But in the open country, in the late autumn, fruit is scarce; and, in the absence of sweet pulp, we fall back upon game. Minced Eristalis may well be only a secondary resource of the Wasps. Their refusal of my offerings seems to prove it.
We will now consider the Polistes. Her absolutely Wasp-like shape and costume take nobody in for a moment. She is at once recognized and is mobbed as the Eristalis was, if she dare approach the honey whereat the Wasps are sipping. On neither side, however, is there any attempt at stinging: these [[279]]table-quarrels are not worth the drawing of a dagger. Realizing that she is the weaker and that she is not at home, the Polistes retires. She will come back again and so persistently that the diners end by allowing her to take her seat beside them, a concession very rarely made to the Eristalis. This toleration does not last long: if the Polistes but venture on the combs, this alone arouses a terrible anger and brings about the death of the intruder. No, it is not a good thing to enter the Wasps’-nest, even when the stranger wears the same uniform, pursues the same industry and is almost a fellow-member of the corporation.
Let us now try the Bumble-bee. Here is a male, quite a small one, clad in russet. The poor little beggar is threatened and even hustled, but no more, each time that he passes near a Wasp. Now, however, the scatter-brain comes tumbling from the top of the trelliswork and drops on a comb, in the midst of the busy nurses. I am all eyes as I follow the tragedy. One of them seizes the Bumble-bee by the neck and stabs him in the breast. A few convulsions of the legs follow; and the Bumble-bee is dead. Two other Wasps come to the murderess’ assistance and help her drag the deceased outside. [[280]]Once more, I remark, it is not a good thing to enter the Wasps’ nest, even by accident and without any bad intention.
Here are a few more examples of the savage welcome given to strangers. I do not select my victims; I use them as they happen to come. A rose-tree outside my door supplies me with Hylotoma-larvæ,[2] larvæ shaped like caterpillars. I place one in the midst of the Wasps, who are busy with their cells. Great surprise on the part of the workers confronted by this sort of green dragon, spotted with black! They come near; they withdraw; they again come near. One snaps at it boldly, inflicting a bleeding wound. Others follow her example, bite and endeavour to haul away the wounded creature. The dragon resists, holding now by its fore-legs and now by its hind-legs. The burden is not too heavy, but the insect struggles indefatigably, anchored by its hooks. However, after numerous attempts, the grub, enfeebled by its wounds, is torn from the comb and dragged, all bleeding, to the refuse-pit. It has taken a couple of hours to dislodge it.
With the Hylotoma-larva the Wasps did [[281]]not use the sting, which would have so promptly put an end to all resistance. Perhaps they deemed the wretched grub unworthy of ceremonial death. The expeditious method of the poisoned dagger appears to be reserved for great occasions. Thus perished the Bumble-bee and the Polistes; thus will perish a larva of the Scalary Saperda,[3] an imposing grub extracted that moment from under the bark of a dead cherry-tree.
I fling it on one of the combs. The Wasps are greatly excited by the fall of the monster, which goes into vigorous contortions. Five or six at a time assail it, first quickly biting into it and then pricking it with their stings. In a couple of minutes the grub, stabbed through and through, no longer stirs. As for carrying the huge dead body out of the nest, that is another matter; it is too heavy, much too heavy. What will the Wasps do? Unable to shift the grub, they eat it where it lies, or rather they drain it dry, drinking its blood. An hour later, flaccid now and greatly diminished in weight, the cumbrous corpse is dragged outside the walls. [[282]]
The rest of my notes would only repeat the same results. If he keep a certain distance, the stranger is tolerated, no matter what his race, his costume or his habits. If he pass near a Wasp, a threat warns him and puts him to flight. If he go to the pool of honey, when the refectory is already occupied by the Wasps, it seldom happens that the daring intruder is not molested and driven from the banquet. So far, blows of no great gravity suffice. But, if he have the misfortune to enter the actual nest, he comes to a bad end, pierced by the Wasps’ stings or at least disembowelled by the fangs of their mandibles. His corpse goes to join the other refuse in the basement.
Protected with this fierce vigilance against the invasion of all intruders and deliciously spoon-fed on honey, on that excellent honey which causes Fly-meat to be forgotten, the larvæ prosper greatly in my breeding-cage, though of course not all. In the Wasps’-nest, as everywhere, there are weaklings who are cut down before their time.
I see these puny sufferers refuse their food and slowly pine away. The nurses perceive it even more clearly. They bend their heads over the sorely-tried grub, they sound it with their antennæ, they pronounce it incurable. [[283]]Then the creature at point of death, often of a sickly brown, is torn ruthlessly from its cell and dragged outside the nest. In the brutal commonwealth of the Wasps, the invalid is merely a clout, to be got rid of as quickly as possible, for fear of contagion.
Woe to the sick among these rude professors of hygiene! Any and every cripple is expelled and thrown to the maggot waiting to eat him in the catacombs below. Should the experimenter intervene, matters take an even more atrocious turn. I remove from their cells a few larvæ and nymphs in excellent health and place them on the surface of the combs. Once outside the cells, where the nymphs were maturing under a silken cupola, while the larvæ were being spoon-fed with the utmost tenderness, the delicate creatures are mere hateful obstacles and useless encumbrances. Ferociously the workers tug at them, disembowel them and even eat a little of them. After this cannibal repast, the victims are carted outside the nest. Incapable of reentering their cradles, even with assistance, larvæ and nymphs, stripped bare, perish, slain by their nurses.