Stunned by this revelation, the questioner turns his back and goes away.
But let us waste no more time with the waggish old soldier and his smart repartees and let us rather come to what was attracting my attention in the harmas laboratory. Some Ammophilæ were exploring on foot, with brief intervals of flight, both the grass and the bare patches of ground. I had seen them as early as the middle of March, when a fine day made its appearance, warming themselves luxuriously in the dusty paths. All belonged to the same species, the Hairy Ammophila (A. hirsuta, Kirb.). I have already written of the hibernation of this Ammophila and her venery in mid-spring, at a period when the other Hunting [[331]]Wasps are still imprisoned in their cocoons; I have described her manner of operating on the caterpillar destined for her grub; I have told of the repeated stings of her dart, distributed over the different nerve-centres. This scientific vivisection I had as yet observed but once; and I longed to see it again. Something might have escaped me on the first occasion, when a long walk had tired me; and, even if I had really seen everything correctly, it was advisable to witness the performance a second time, so as to establish its authenticity beyond all doubt. I may add that one would never weary of the spectacle, even if it were repeated a hundred times over.
I therefore watched my Ammophilæ from the moment of their first appearance; and, as I had them here, within my precincts, only a few steps from my door, I could not fail to catch them hunting, provided that my assiduity were not relaxed. The end of March and the whole of April were spent in vain waiting, either because the moment of nidification had not yet come, or, more probably, because my vigilance was at fault. At last, on the 17th of May, a lucky chance presented itself.
A few Ammophilæ strike me as very busy: suppose we follow one of them, more active than the rest. I detect her giving a last sweep [[332]]of the rake to her burrow, on the smooth, hard path, before introducing her caterpillar, which, already paralysed, must have been abandoned by the huntress, for the time being, a few yards away from the home. The cave is pronounced spick and span, the doorway deemed sufficiently wide to admit a bulky prey; and the Ammophila sets off in search of her captive. She finds it easily. It is a Grey Worm, lying on the ground; and the Ants have already invaded it. This prize, for which the Ants contend with her, is scorned by the huntress. Many predatory Wasps, who temporarily leave their prisoner to go and complete the burrow, or even to begin it, lodge their game high up, on a tuft of verdure, to place it beyond the reach of plunderers. The Ammophila is familiar with this prudent practice; but perhaps she has omitted to take the precaution, or else the heavy prize has fallen to the ground, and now the Ants are tugging in eager rivalry at the sumptuous fare. To drive away those pilferers is impossible: for one sent to the right-about, ten would return to the attack. So the Wasp seems to think; for, realizing the invasion, she resumes her hunting, without indulging in useless strife.
The quest takes place within a radius of ten yards from the nest. The Ammophila explores [[333]]the soil on foot, little by little, without hurrying; she lashes the ground continually with her antennæ curved like a bow. The bare soil, the pebbly bits, the grassy parts are visited without distinction. For nearly three hours, in the heat of the sun, in sultry weather which means rain to-morrow and a few drops to-night, I watch the Ammophila’s search, without taking my eyes from her for a second. What a difficult thing a Grey Worm is to find, for a Wasp who needs it just at that moment!
It is no less difficult for man. The reader knows my method of witnessing the surgical operation to which a Hunting Wasp subjects her prey, with a view to giving her grubs flesh that is lifeless but not dead. I rob the marauder of her spoil and, in exchange, give her a live prey, similar to her own. I was arranging the same manœuvre with regard to the Ammophila, so that, after she had smitten her caterpillar, which she was bound to find at any moment now, I might make her perform the operation a second time. I was therefore in urgent need of a few Grey Worms.
Favier was there, gardening. I called out to him:
‘Come here, quick; I want some Grey Worms!’
I explain the thing to him; for that matter, [[334]]he has known all about it for some time. I have talked to him of my little creatures and the caterpillars which they hunt; he has a general knowledge of the habits of the insect which I am studying. He understands at once and goes in search. He digs at the foot of the lettuces, he scrapes among the strawberry-beds, he inspects the iris-borders. I know his sharp eyes and his intelligence; I have every confidence in him. Meanwhile, time passes.
‘Well, Favier? Where’s that Grey Worm?’