It is easy to emerge from this latter compartment when the time of the exodus has arrived; at its base is an ever-open door, [[326]]a fissure shaped like a button-hole. But how is it possible to escape from the upper storey, separated from the other as it is by a partition? The newly-hatched young are so feeble, so tiny, that they would never be able to break through the membrane. Let us look more closely. The partition is pierced in the centre by a round manhole! The inhabitants of the lower storey can make immediate use of the door of their dwelling-house, the button-hole exit; those of the upper storey can reach it by means of the hole in the floor. Magnificent foresight on the part of the mechanism of the dessication! The mother Kermes, of whom no more is left than an unsubstantial ceiling, contrives in her substance a trap-door without which half her family would die imprisoned.
Owing to its minute proportions, the tiny insect all but escapes the unaided eye. A good magnifying-glass shows it as a tiny Louse, shaped like an egg, the large end of the egg to the fore, and in colour a delicate reddish brown. It has six very active legs. Its motionless future, its lifeless maturity, are prefaced by a quick, toddling walk. The [[327]]long antennæ are in constant vibration; on the hinder part of the body are two long, diaphanous cirri, which will escape remark unless we look for them with sustained attention. There are two black eye-spots.
In the small glass test-tube in which I am observing it, the tiny creature appears to be extremely busy. It strays hither and thither, the antennæ outspread and waving to and fro; it climbs, descends, and climbs again, wandering this way and that, colliding as it goes with the torn skins of the hatched eggs. It is making ready for departure, that is evident. This mere speck of life is about to adventure into the wide world. What does it want? Apparently a sprig of its food plant. I have had an eye to its requirements.
In the orchard is an evergreen oak, one single specimen, a small but sturdy tree some ten to twelve feet in height. About the middle of June, when the young are beginning to appear, I place there some thirty Kermes, still adhering to their supporting twig.
In spite of all my pains, it will be no easy matter to follow the peregrinations of the Kermes’ family, should it disperse itself [[328]]over the tree, as I suppose it will. The traveller is too small and the country to be explored too vast. Moreover, to examine the tips of all the boughs with the magnifying-glass, leaf by leaf, twig by twig, is impracticable; no one’s patience would suffice to the task.
A few days later I inspect those that are within my range. Many migrations have taken place, as is proved by the white filmy skins left by the roadside. As for the young, I cannot see them anywhere, neither on the bark of the twigs, nor on the leaves. Is it possible that they have all attained the inaccessible tips of the boughs? Or can they have gone elsewhere? This is the first problem to be solved, and it must be solved under such conditions that the emigrants cannot escape my gaze.
I transplant some young evergreen oaks ten to twenty inches in height, into flowerpots filled with leaf-mould. On the twigs of each young tree I fix, with a little drop of gum, five or six Kermes, taking especial care not to obstruct the door of emergence. This miniature artificial coppice is placed where it is sheltered from the fiercest heat [[329]]of the sun, in my study, facing one of the windows.
On the 2nd of July I witness a migration. At the hottest time of the day, about two o’clock, the new-born Lice leave their fortress in an innumerable swarm. The young Kermes emerge hastily from the door of their dwelling, the button-hole-shaped cleft; many of them dragging behind them the discarded husk of the egg. For a moment they stand motionless on the domed roof of their spherical house; then they scatter over the neighbouring twigs. Several of them climb upwards and reach the summit of the plant, without appearing to gain much satisfaction from their ascent; some of them climb downwards along their twig, so that I cannot possibly guess what objective the swarm is seeking. It may be that we are witnessing a brief period of disorder, due to the joy of the first few steps in a world of unrestricted freedom; the tiny creatures may be wandering at random, abandoned to the delights of emancipation. Let them do as they will; they will soon quiet down.
On the following day, indeed, I can no longer see a single Louse on the tree; all [[330]]have found their way downwards to the black leaf-mould in the flowerpot, not far from the main stem. This mould, recently watered, is rich in the savours of foliage which has rotted and fallen into dust. There, on a surface barely larger than one’s fingernail, the little creatures have gathered into a closely packed flock. Not one of them moves, so well satisfied do they seem with their pasture, or rather their watering-place. As far as I can see they are feeding, motionless in their well-being.
I do what I can to increase their felicity. To keep the place cool and to provide a little shadow I cover it with a few dead leaves from the evergreen oak, previously moistened in a glass of water. And now, little Lice, you must proceed after your own fashion; I have done for you all that I can!