The Life and Love of the Insect

by Jean-Henri Fabre

A more or less enquiring glance is quite surprised to find so small a germ contained in so large a box. What does that tiny egg want with all that space? When carefully examined within, the walls of the chamber prompt another question. They are coated with a fine greenish pap, semi-fluid and shiny, the appearance of which does not agree with the outward or inward aspect of the lump from which the insect has extracted its [[84]]materials. A similar lime-wash is observed in the nest which the Sacred Beetle, the Copris, the Sisyphus, the Geotrupe and other makers of stercoraceous preserves contrive in the very heart of the provisions, to receive the egg; but nowhere have I seen it so plentiful, in proportion, as in the hatching-chamber of the Onthophagus. Long puzzled by this brothy wash, of which the Sacred Beetle provided me with the first instance, I began by taking the thing for a layer of moisture oozing from the bulk of the victuals and collecting on the surface of the enclosure without other effort than capillary action. That was the interpretation which I accepted originally.

I was wrong. The truth is worthy of attention in a very different way. To-day, better-informed by the Onthophagus, I know that this lime-wash itself, this semi-fluid cream, is the product of maternal foresight.

What, then, is this lime-wash found in every cell? The answer is compulsory: it is a produce of the mother, a special gruel, a milk-food elaborated for the benefit of the new-born grub.

The young Pigeon puts his beak into that of his parents, who, with convulsive efforts, force down his gullet first a caseous mash secreted in the crop and next a broth of grains softened by being partially digested. He is fed upon disgorged foods, which are helpful to the weaknesses of an inexperienced stomach. The grub of the Onthophagus is brought up in much the same way, at the start. To assist its first attempts at swallowing, the mother prepares for it, in her crop, a light and strengthening cream.

To pass the dainty from mouth to mouth is, in her case, impossible: the construction of other cells keeps her busy elsewhere. Moreover—and this is a more serious detail—the laying takes place egg by egg, at very long [[85]]intervals, and the hatching is pretty slow: time would fail, had the family to be brought up in the manner of the Pigeons. Another method is perforce needed. The childish pap is disgorged all over the walls of the cabin in such a way that the nursling finds itself surrounded by an abundance of bread-and-jam, in which the bread, the food of the sturdy age, is represented by the uncooked material, as supplied by the sheep, whereas the jam, the mess of the puny age, is represented by the same material daintily prepared beforehand in the mother’s stomach. We shall see the babe presently lick first the jam, all around it, and then stoutly attack the bread. A child among ourselves would behave no otherwise.

I should have liked to catch the mother in the act of disgorging and spreading her broth. I was not able to succeed. Things happen in a narrow retreat, which the eye cannot enter when the pastry-cook is busy; and also her fluster at being exhibited in broad daylight at once stops the work.

If direct observation be lacking, at least the appearance of the material speaks very clearly and tells us that the Onthophagus, here rivalling the Pigeon, but with a different method, disgorges the first mouthfuls for her sons. And the same may be said of the other Dung-beetles skilled in the art of building a hatching-chamber in the centre of the provisions.

No elsewhere, in the insect order, except among the Apidæ, who prepare disgorged food in the shape of honey, is this affection present. The Dung-workers edify us with their morals. Several of them practise association in couples and found a household; several anticipate the suckling, the supreme expression of maternal solicitude, by turning their crop into a nipple. Life has its freaks. [[86]]It settles amid ordure the creatures most highly-endowed with family qualities. True, from there it mounts, with a sudden flight, to the sublimities of the bird.

The little worm is hatched in about a week: a strange and paradoxical being. On its back, it has an enormous sugar-loaf hump, the weight of which drags it over and capsizes it each time it tries to stand on its legs and walk. At every moment, it staggers and falls under the burden of the hunch.

Unable to keep its hump upright, the grub of the Onthophagus lies down on its side and licks the cream of its cell all around it. There is cream everywhere, on the ceiling, on the walls, on the floor. As soon as one spot is thoroughly bared, the consumer moves on a little with the help of its well-shaped legs; it capsizes again and starts licking again. The room is large and plentifully supplied; and the jam-diet lasts some time.