She abounds in the colony under observation. Crouching in the sun, near a burrow, she waits. As soon as the Halictus arrives from the harvest, her legs yellow with pollen, she darts forth and pursues her, keeping behind her in all the turns of her wavering flight. At last, the Hymenopteron suddenly dives indoors. No less suddenly, the other settles on the mole-hill, quite close to the entrance. Motionless, with her head turned towards the front-door, she waits for the Bee to finish her business. The latter reappears at last and, for a few seconds, stands on the threshold of her dwelling, with her head and thorax outside the hole. The Gnat, on her side, does not stir.
Often, they are face to face, separated by a space no wider than a finger’s breadth. Neither of them shows the least excitement. The Halictus—judging, at least, by her tranquillity—takes no notice of the parasite lying in wait for her; the parasite, on the other hand, displays no fear of being punished for her audacity. She remains imperturbable, she, the dwarf, in the presence of the colossus who could crush her with a blow of one of her legs.
In vain I peer to discover some sign of apprehension on either side: nothing in the Halictus points to a knowledge of the danger run by her family; nor does anything in the Dipteron betray the dread of a severe correction. [[202]]Plunderer and plundered stare at each other for a moment; and that is all.
If she liked, the genial giantess could rip up with her claw the little bandit that ruins her home; she could crunch her with her mandibles, pink her with her stiletto. She does nothing of the sort, but leaves the brigand in peace, to sit quite close, motionless, with her red eyes fixed on the threshold of the house. Why this fatuous clemency?
The Bee departs. Forthwith, the Gnat walks in, with no more ceremony than if she were entering her own place. She now chooses among the victualled cells at her ease, for they are all open; she leisurely settles her eggs. No one will disturb her until the Bee’s return. To dust one’s legs with pollen, to distend one’s crop with syrup is a work that takes long a-doing; and the intruder, therefore, has time to spare wherein to commit her felony. Moreover, her chronometer is well-regulated and gives the exact measure of the length of absence. When the Halictus comes back from the fields, the Gnat has decamped. In some favourable spot, not far from the burrow, she awaits the opportunity for a fresh misdeed.
What would happen if a parasite were surprised in her work by the Bee? Nothing serious. I have seen them, greatly daring, follow the Halictus right into the cave and remain there for some time while the mixture of pollen and honey is being prepared. Unable to make use of the paste so long as the harvester is kneading it, they go back to the open air and wait on the threshold for the Bee to come out. They return to the sunlight, unflustered, with calm steps: a clear proof that they have suffered no unpleasantness in the depths where the Halictus works. [[203]]
A tap on the Gnat’s neck if she become too enterprising in the neighbourhood of the cake: that is all that the lady of the house seems to allow herself, to drive away the intruder. There is no serious affray between the robber and the robbed. This is apparent from the bold and undamaged aspect of the dwarf who returns from visiting the giantess engaged down in the burrow.
The Bee, when she comes home, whether laden with provisions or not, hesitates for a while; in a series of rapid zigzags, she moves backwards and forwards, to and fro, at a short distance from the ground. This intricate flight at first suggests the idea that the Hymenopteron is trying to lead her persecutress astray by means of an inextricable net-work of marches and counter-marches. That would certainly be a prudent move on her part; but so much wisdom appears to be denied her.
Her perturbation does not concern the enemy, but rather the difficulty of finding her dwelling, amid the confusion of the mole-hills encroaching one upon the other and the disorder of the lanes of the hamlet, which, owing to landslips of fresh rubbish, alter in appearance from one day to the next. Her hesitation is manifest, for she often blunders and alights at the entrance to a burrow that is not hers. The mistake is at once perceived from the petty details of the doorway.
The investigation is resumed with the same flight in swing-like curves, intermingled with sudden excursions to a distance. At last, the burrow is recognized. The Halictus dives into it with a rush; but, however prompt her disappearance underground, the Gnat is there, perched on the threshold, with her eyes turned to the entrance, waiting for the Bee to come out, so that she may visit the honey-jars in her turn. [[204]]