The Glow-Worm and Other Beetles

by Jean-Henri Fabre

The point at which the Mouse lies is finally recognized as unassailable. A male appears in the open. He explores the corpse, goes round it, scratches a little at random. He goes back; and immediately the dead body rocks. Is he advising his collaborators of what he has discovered? Is he arranging the work with a view to their establishing themselves elsewhere, on propitious soil?

The facts are far from confirming this idea. When he shakes the body, the others imitate him and push, but without combining their efforts in a given direction, for, after advancing a little towards the edge of the brick, the burden goes back again, returning to the point of departure. In the absence of a concerted understanding, their efforts of leverage are wasted. Nearly three hours are occupied by oscillations which mutually annul one another. The Mouse does not cross the little sand-hill heaped about her by the rakes of the workers.

For the second time, a male appears and makes a round of exploration. A boring is effected in loose earth, close beside the brick. This is a trial excavation, to learn the nature of the soil, a narrow well, of no great depth, into which the insect plunges to half its length. The well-sinker returns to the other workers, who arch their backs, and the load progresses a finger's-breadth towards the point recognized as favourable. Have we done the trick this time? No, for after a while the Mouse recoils. There is no progress towards a solution of the difficulty.

Now two males come out in search of information, each of his own accord. Instead of stopping at the point already sounded, a point most judiciously chosen, it seemed, on account of its proximity, which would save laborious carting, they precipitately scour the whole area of the cage, trying the soil on this side and on that and ploughing superficial furrows in it. They get as far from the brick as the limits of the enclosure permit.

They dig, by preference, against the base of the cover; here they make several borings, without any reason, so far as I can see, the bed of soil being everywhere equally assailable away from the brick; the first point sounded is abandoned for a second, which is rejected in its turn. A third and fourth are tried; then another. At the sixth point the choice is made. In all these cases the excavation is by no means a grave destined to receive the Mouse, but a mere trial boring, of inconsiderable depth and of the diameter of the digger's body.

Back again to the Mouse, who suddenly shakes, swings, advances, recoils, first in one direction, then in another, until in the end the hillock of sand is crossed. Now we are free of the brick and on excellent soil. Little by little the load advances. This is no cartage by a team hauling in the open, but a jerky removal, the work of invisible levers. The body seems to shift of its own accord.

This time, after all those hesitations, the efforts are concerted; at least, the load reaches the region sounded far more rapidly than I expected. Then begins the burial, according to the usual method. It is one o'clock. It has taken the Necrophori halfway round the clock to ascertain the condition of the locality and to displace the Mouse.

In this experiment it appears, in the first place, that the males play a major part in the affairs of the household. Better-equipped, perhaps, than their mates, they make investigations when a difficulty occurs; they inspect the soil, recognize whence the check arises and choose the spot at which the grave shall be dug. In the lengthy experiment of the brick, the two males alone explored the surroundings and set to work to solve the difficulty. Trusting her assistants, the female, motionless beneath the Mouse, awaited the result of their enquiries. The tests which are to follow will confirm the merits of these valiant auxiliaries.

In the second place, the points where the Mouse lies being recognized as presenting an insurmountable resistance, there is no grave dug in advance, a little farther off, in the loose soil. All the attempts are limited, I repeat, to shallow soundings, which inform the insect of the possibility of inhumation.

It is absolute nonsense to speak of their first preparing the grave to which the body will afterwards be carted. In order to excavate the soil, our sextons have to feel the weight of their dead upon their backs. They work only when stimulated by the contact of its fur. Never, never in this world, do they venture to dig a grave unless the body to be buried already occupies the site of the cavity. This is absolutely confirmed by my two months and more of daily observations.