It is true that the Grasshoppers, similarly equipped, find it even more difficult to make their way out of the earth. Their eggs are laid naked in the ground; no outward passage is prepared for them beforehand. We may assume, therefore, that the mortality must be very high among these improvident ones; legions are bound to perish at the time of the exodus.
This is confirmed by the comparative scarcity of Grasshoppers and the extreme abundance of Locusts. And yet the number of eggs laid is about the same in both cases. The Locust does not, in fact, limit herself to a single casket containing a score of eggs: she puts into the ground two, three and more, which gives a total population approaching that of the Decticus and other Grasshoppers. If, to the greater delight of the consumers of small game, she thrives so well, whereas the Grasshopper, who is quite as fertile but less ingenious, dwindles, does she not owe it to that superb invention, her exit-turret?
One last word upon the tiny insect which, for days on end, fights away with its cervical [[400]]rammer. It is outside at last and rests for a moment, to recover from all that fatigue. Then, suddenly, under the thrust of the throbbing blister, the temporary jacket splits. The rags are pushed back by the hind-legs, which are the last to strip. The thing is done: the creature is free, pale in colouring as yet, but possessing the final larval form.
Then and there, the hind-legs, hitherto stretched in a straight line, adopt the regulation position; the legs fold under the great thighs; and the spring is ready to work. It works. Little Locust makes his entrance into the world and hops for the first time. I offer him a bit of lettuce the size of my finger-nail. He refuses. Before taking nourishment, he must first mature and develop for a while in the sun. [[401]]
[1] 2.34 by .312 inches.—Translator’s Note. [↑]
[2] The big Grey Locust is sometimes subject to the same aberration.—Author’s Note. [↑]
[3] .312 to .351 inch.—Translator’s Note. [↑]