CEROCOMÆ, MYLABRES AND ZONITES

All has not been told concerning the Meloidæ, those strange parasites, some of which, the Sitares and the Oil-beetles, attach themselves, like the tiniest of Lice, to the fleece of various Bees to get themselves carried into the cell where they will destroy the egg and afterwards feed upon the ration of honey. A most unexpected discovery, made a few hundred yards from my door, has warned me once again how dangerous it is to generalize. To take it for granted, as the mass of data hitherto collected seemed to justify us in doing, that all the Meloidæ of our country usurp the stores of honey accumulated by the Bees, was surely a most judicious and natural generalization. Many have accepted it without hesitation; and I for my part was one of them. For on what are we to base our conviction when we imagine that we are stating a law? We think to take our stand upon the general; and we plunge into the quicksands of error. And behold, the law of the Meloidæ has to be struck off the statutes, a fate common to many others, as this chapter will prove.

On the 16th of July, 1883, I was digging, with my son Émile, in the sandy heap where, a few days earlier, I had been observing the labours and the surgery of the Mantis-killing Tachytes. My purpose was to collect a few cocoons of this Digger-wasp. The cocoons were turning up in abundance under my pocket-trowel, when Émile presented me with an unknown object. Absorbed in my task of collection, I slipped the find into my box without examining it further than with a rapid glance. We left the spot. Half-way home, the ardour of my search became assuaged; and a thought of the problematical object, so negligently dropped into the box among the cocoons, flashed across my mind.

"Hullo!" I said to myself. "Suppose it were that? Why not? But, no, yes, it is that; that's just what it is!"

Then, suddenly turning to Émile, who was rather surprised by this soliloquy:

"My boy," I said, "you have had a magnificent find. It's a pseudochrysalis of the Meloidæ. It's a document of incalculable value; you've struck a fresh vein in the extraordinary records of these creatures. Let us look at it closely and at once."

The thing was taken from the box, dusted by blowing on it and carefully examined. I really had before my eyes the pseudochrysalis of some Meloid. Its shape was unfamiliar to me. No matter: I was an old hand and could not mistake its source. Everything assured me that I was on the track of an insect that rivalled the Sitares and the Oil-beetles in the strangeness of its transformations; and, what was a still more precious fact, its occurrence amid the burrows of the Mantis-killer told me that its habits would be wholly different.

"It's very hot, my poor Émile; we are both of us pretty done. Never mind: let's go back to our sand-hill and dig and have another search. I must have the larva that comes before the pseudochrysalis; I must, if possible, have the insect that comes out of it."

Success responded amply to our zeal. We found a goodly number of pseudochrysalids. More often still, we unearthed larvæ which were busy eating the Mantes, the rations of the Tachytes. Are these really the larvæ that turn into the pseudochrysalids? It seems very probable, but there is room for doubt. Rearing them at home will dispel the mists of probability and replace them by the light of certainty. But that is all: I have not a vestige of the perfect insect to inform me of the nature of the parasite. The future, let us hope, will fill this gap. Such was the result of the first trench opened in the heap of sand. Later searches enriched my harvest a little, without furnishing me with fresh data.

Let us now proceed to examine my double find. And first of all the pseudochrysalis, which put me on the alert. It is a motionless, rigid body, of a waxen yellow, smooth, shiny, curved like a fish-hook towards the head, which is inflected. Under a very powerful magnifying-glass the surface is seen to be strewn with very tiny points which are slightly raised and shinier than the surface. There are thirteen segments, including the head. The dorsal surface is convex, the ventral surface flat. A blunt ridge divides the two surfaces. The three thoracic segments bear each a pair of tiny conical nipples, of a deep rusty red, signs of the future legs. The stigmata are very distinct, appearing as specks of a deeper red than the rest of the integuments. There is one pair, the largest, on the second segment of the thorax, almost on the line dividing it from the first segment. Then follow eight pairs, one on each segment of the abdomen except the last, making in all nine pairs of stigmata. The last pair, that of the eighth abdominal segment, is the smallest.

The anal extremity displays no peculiarity. The cephalic mask comprises eight cone-shaped tubercles, dark red like the tubercles of the legs. Six of these are arranged in two lateral rows; the others are between the two rows. In each row of three nipples, the one in the middle is the largest; it no doubt corresponds with the mandibles. The length of this organism varies greatly, fluctuating between 8 and 15 millimetres.1 Its width is from 3 to 4 millimetres.2

1 .312 to .585 inch.—Translator's Note.

2 .117 to .156 inch.—Translator's Note.

Apart from the general configuration, it will be seen that we have here the strikingly characteristic appearance of the pseudochrysalids of the Sitares, Oil-beetles and Zonites. There are the same rigid integuments, of the red of a cough-lozenge or virgin wax; the same cephalic mask, in which the future mouth-parts are represented by faintly marked tubercles; the same thoracic studs, which are the vestiges of the legs; the same distribution of the stigmata. I was therefore firmly convinced that the parasite of the Mantis-hunters could only be a Meloid.

Let us also record the description of the strange larva found devouring the heap of Mantes in the burrows of the Tachytes. It is naked, blind, white, soft and sharply curved. Its general appearance suggests the larva of some Weevil. I should be even more accurate if I compared it with the secondary larva of Meloe cicatricosus, of which I once published a drawing in the Annales des sciences naturelles.3 If we reduce the dimensions considerably, we shall have something very like the parasite of the Tachytes.

3 It was his essays in this periodical, on the metamorphoses of the Sitares and Oil-beetles, that procured Fabre his first reputation as an entomologist.—Translator's Note.

The head is large, faintly tinged with red. The mandibles are strong, bent into a pointed hook, black at the tip and a fiery red at the base. The antennæ are very short, inserted close to the root of the mandibles. I count three joints: the first thick and globular, the other two cylindrical, the second of these cut short abruptly. There are twelve segments, apart from the head, divided by fairly definite grooves. The first thoracic segment is a little longer than the rest, with the dorsal plate very slightly tinged with russet, as is the top of the head. Beginning with the tenth segment, the body tapers a little. A slight scalloped rim divides the dorsal from the ventral surface.

The legs are short, white and transparent and end in a feeble claw. A pair of stigmata on the mesothorax, near the line of junction with the prothorax; a stigma on either side of the first eight abdominal segments; in all nine pairs of stigmata, distributed like those of the pseudochrysalis. These stigmata are small, tinged with red and rather difficult to distinguish. Varying in size, like the pseudochrysalid which seems to come from it, this larva averages nearly half an inch in length and an eighth of an inch in width.

The six little legs, feeble though they be, perform services which one would not at first suspect. They embrace the Mantis that is being devoured and hold her under the mandibles, while the grub, lying on its side, takes its meal at its ease. They also serve for locomotion. On a firm surface, such as the wooden top of my table, the larva can move about quite well; it toddles along, dragging its belly, with its body straight from end to end. On fine, loose sand, change of position becomes difficult. The grub now bends itself into a bow; it wriggles upon its back, upon its side; it crawls a little way; it digs and heaves with its mandibles. But let a less crumbling support come to its assistance; and pilgrimages of some length are not beyond its powers.

I reared my guests in a box divided into compartments by means of paper partitions. Each space, representing about the capacity of a Tachytes-cell, received its layer of sand, its pile of Mantes and its larva. And more than one disturbance arose in this refectory, where I had reckoned upon keeping the banqueters isolated one from the other, each at its special table. This larva, which had finished its ration the day before, was discovered next day in another chamber, where it was sharing its neighbour's repast. It had therefore climbed the partition, which for that matter was of no great height, or else had forced its way through some chink. This is enough, I think, to prove that the grub is not a strict stay-at-home, as are the larvæ of the Sitares and the Oil-beetles when devouring the ration of the Anthophora.

I imagine that, in the burrows of the Tachytes, the grub, when its heap of Mantes is consumed, moves from cell to cell until it has satisfied its appetite. Its subterranean excursions cannot cover a wide range, but they enable it to visit a few adjacent cells. I have mentioned how greatly the Tachytes' provision of Mantes varies.4 The smaller rations certainly fall to the males, which are puny dwarfs compared with their companions; the more plentiful fall to the females. The parasitic grub to which fate has allotted the scanty masculine ration has not perhaps sufficient with this share; it wants an extra portion, which it can obtain by changing its cell. If it be favoured by chance, it will eat according to the measure of its hunger and will attain the full development of which its race allows; if it wander about without finding anything, it will fast and will remain small. This would explain the differences which I note in both the grubs and the pseudochrysalids, differences amounting in linear dimensions to a hundred per cent and more. The rations, rare or abundant according to the cells lit upon, would determine the size of the parasite.

4 The essay on the Tachytes has not yet appeared in English. It will form part of a volume entitled More Hunting Wasps.—Translator's Note.

During the active period, the larva undergoes a few moults; I have witnessed at least one of these. The creature stripped of its skin appears as it was before, without any change of form. It instantly resumes its meal, which was interrupted while the old skin was shed; it embraces with its legs another Mantis on the heap and proceeds to nibble her. Whether simple or multiple, this moult has nothing in common with the renewals due to the hypermetamorphosis, which so profoundly change the creature's appearance.

Ten days' rearing in the partitioned box is enough to prove how right I was when I looked upon the parasitic larva feeding on Mantes as the origin of the pseudochrysalis, the object of my eager attention. The creature, which I kept supplied with additional food as long as it accepted it, stops eating at last. It becomes motionless, retracts its head slightly and bends itself into a hook. Then the skin splits across the head and down the thorax. The tattered slough is thrust back; and the pseudochrysalis appears in sight, absolutely naked. It is white at first, as the larva was; but by degrees and fairly rapidly it turns to the russet hue of virgin wax, with a brighter red at the tips of the various tubercles which indicate the future legs and mouth-parts. This shedding of the skin, which leaves the body of the pseudochrysalis uncovered, recalls the mode of transformation observed in the Oil-beetles and is different from that of the Sitares and the Zonites, whose pseudochrysalis remains wholly enveloped in the skin of the secondary larva, a sort of bag which is sometimes loose, sometimes tight and always unbroken.

The mist that surrounded us at the outset is dispelled. This is indeed a Meloid, a true Meloid, one of the strangest anomalies among the parasites of its tribe. Instead of living on the honey of a Bee, it feeds on the skewerful of Mantes provided by a Tachytes. The North-American naturalists have taught us lately that honey is not always the diet of the Blister-beetles: some Meloidæ in the United States devour the packets of eggs laid by the Grasshoppers. This is a legitimate acquisition on their part, not an illegal seizure of the food-stores of others. No one, as far as I am aware, had as yet suspected the true parasitism of a carnivorous Meloid. It is nevertheless very remarkable to find in the Blister-beetles, on both sides of the Atlantic, this weakness for the flavour of Locust: one devours her eggs; the other a representative of the order, in the shape of the Praying Mantis and her kin.

Who will explain to me this predilection for the Orthopteron in a tribe whose chief, the Oil-beetle, accepts nothing but the mess of honey? Why do insects which appear close together in all our classifications possess such opposite tastes? If they spring from a common stock, how did the consumption of flesh supplant the consumption of honey? How did the Lamb become a Wolf? This is the great problem which was once set us, in an inverse form, by the Spotted Sapyga, a honey-eating relative of the flesh-eating Scolia.5 I submit the question to whom it may concern.

5 The essays on these will appear in the volume, entitled The Hunting Wasps, aforementioned.—Translator's Note.

The following year, at the beginning of June, some of my pseudochrysalids split open transversely behind the head and lengthwise down the whole of the median line of the back, except the last two or three segments. From it emerges the tertiary larva, which, from a simple examination with the pocket-lens, appears to me, in its general features, identical with the secondary larva, the one which eats the Tachytes' provisions. It is naked and pale-yellow, the colour of butter. It is active and wriggles with awkward movements. Ordinarily it lies upon its side, but it can also stand in the normal position. The creature is then trying to use its legs, without finding sufficient purchase to enable it to walk. A few days later, it relapses into complete repose.

Thirteen segments, including the head, which is large, with a quadrilateral cranium, rounded at the sides. Short antennæ, consisting of three knotted joints. Powerful curved mandibles, with two or three little teeth at the end, of a fairly bright red. Labial palpi rather bulky, short and with three joints, like the antennæ. The mouth-parts, labrum, mandibles and palpi are movable and stir slightly, as though seeking food. A small brown speck near the base of each antenna, marking the place of the future eyes. Prothorax wider than the segments that come after it. These are all of one width and are distinctly divided by a furrow and a slight lateral rim. Legs short, transparent, without a terminal claw. They are three-jointed stumps. Pale stigmata, eight pairs of them, placed as in the pseudochrysalis, that is, the first and largest pair on the line dividing the first two segments of the thorax and the seven others on the first seven abdominal segments. The secondary larva and the pseudochrysalis also have a very small stigma on the penultimate segment of the abdomen. This stigma has disappeared in the tertiary larva; at least I cannot detect it with the aid of a good magnifying-glass.

Lastly, we find the same strong mandibles as in the secondary larva, the same feeble legs, the same appearance of a Weevil-grub. The movements return, but are less clearly marked than in the primary form. The passage through the pseudochrysalid state has led to no change that is really worth describing. The creature, after this singular phase, is what it was before. The Meloes and Sitares, for that matter, behave similarly.

Then what can be the meaning of this pseudochrysalid stage, which, when passed, leads precisely to the point of departure? The Meloid seems to be revolving in a circle: it undoes what it has just done, it draws back after advancing. The idea sometimes occurs to me to look upon the pseudochrysalis as a sort of egg of a superior organization, starting from which the insect follows the ordinary law of entomological phases and passes through the successive stages of larva, nymph and perfect insect. The first hatching, that of the normal egg, makes the Meloid go through the larval dimorphism of the Anthrax and the Leucospis. The primary larva finds its way to the victuals; the secondary larva consumes them. The second hatching, that of the pseudochrysalis, reverts to the usual course, so that the insect passes through the three customary forms: larva, nymph, adult.

The tertiary larval stage is of brief duration, lasting about a fortnight. The larva then sheds its skin by a longitudinal rent along the back, as did the secondary larva, uncovering the nymph, in which we recognize the Beetle, the genus and species being almost determinable by the antennæ.

The second year's development turned out badly. The few nymphs which I obtained about the middle of June shrivelled up without attaining the perfect form. Some pseudochrysalids remained on my hands without showing any sign of approaching transformation. I attributed this delay to lack of warmth. I was in fact keeping them in the shade, on a what-not, in my study, whereas under natural conditions they are exposed to the hottest sun, beneath a layer of sand a few inches deep. To imitate these conditions without burying my charges, whose progress I wished to follow comfortably, I placed the pseudochrysalids that remained on a layer of fresh sand at the bottom of a glass receiver. Direct exposure to the sun was impracticable: it would have been fatal at a period when life is subterranean. To avoid it, I tied over the mouth of the receiver a few thicknesses of black cloth, to represent the natural screen of sand; and the apparatus thus prepared was exposed for some weeks to the most brilliant sunshine in my window. Under the cloth cover, which, owing to its colour, favours the absorption of heat, the temperature, during the day-time, became that of an oven; and yet the pseudochrysalids persisted in remaining stationary. The end of July was near and nothing indicated a speedy hatching. Convinced that my attempts at heating would be fruitless, I replaced the pseudochrysalids in the shade, on the shelves, in glass tubes. Here they passed a second year, still in the same condition.

June returned once more and with it the appearance of the tertiary larva, followed by the nymph. For the second time this stage of development was not exceeded; the one and only nymph that I succeeded in obtaining shrivelled, like those of the year before. Will these two failures, arising no doubt from the overdry atmosphere of my receivers, conceal from us the genus and the species of the Mantis-eating Meloid? Fortunately, no. The riddle is easily solved by deduction and comparison.

The only Melodiæ in my part of the country which, though their habits are still unknown, might correspond in size with either the larva or the pseudochrysalis in question are the Twelve-pointed Mylabris and Schaeffer's Cerocoma. I find the first in July on the flowers of the sea scabious; I find the second at the end of May and in June on the heads of the Îles d'Hyères everlasting. This last date is best-suited to explain the presence of the parasitic larva and its pseudochrysalis in the Tachytes' burrows from July onwards. Moreover, the Cerocoma is very abundant in the neighbourhood of the sand-heaps haunted by the Tachytes, while the Mylabris does not occur there. Nor is this all: the few nymphs obtained have curious antennæ, ending in a full, irregular tuft, the like of which is found only in the antennæ of the male Cerocoma. The Mylabris, therefore, must be eliminated; the antennæ, in the nymph, must be regularly jointed, as they are in the perfect insect. There remains the Cerocoma.

Any lingering doubts may be dispelled: by good fortune, a friend of mine, Dr. Beauregard, who is preparing a masterly work upon the Blister-beetles, had some pseudochrysalids of Schreber's Cerocoma in his possession. Having visited Sérignan for the purpose of scientific investigations, he had searched the Tachytes' sand-heaps in my company and taken back to Paris a few pseudochrysalids of grubs fed on Mantes, in order to follow their development. His attempts, like mine, had miscarried; but, on comparing the Sérignan pseudochrysalids with those of Schreber's Cerocoma, which came from Aramon, near Avignon, he was able to establish the closest resemblance between the two organisms. Everything therefore confirms the supposition that my discovery can relate only to Schaeffer's Cerocoma. As for the other, it must be eliminated: its extreme rarity in my neighbourhood is a sufficient reason.

It is tiresome that the diet of the Aramon Meloid is not known. If I allowed myself to be guided by analogy, I should be inclined to regard Schreber's Cerocoma as a parasite of Tachytes tarsina, who buries her hoards of young Locusts in the high sandy banks. In that case, the two Cerocomæ would have a similar diet. But I leave it to Dr. Beauregard to elucidate this important characteristic.

The riddle is deciphered: the Meloid that eats Praying Mantes is Schaeffer's Cerocoma, of whom I find plenty, in the spring, on the blossoms of the everlasting. Whenever I see it, my attention is attracted by an unusual peculiarity: the great difference of size that is able to exist between one specimen and another, albeit of the same sex. I see stunted creatures, females as well as males, which are barely one third the length of their better-developed companions. The Twelve-spotted Mylabris and the Four-spotted Mylabris present differences quite as pronounced in this respect.

The cause which makes a dwarf or a giant of the same insect, irrespective of its sex, can be only the smaller or greater quantity of food. If the larva, as I suspect, is obliged to find the Tachytes' game-larder for itself and to visit a second and a third, when the first is too frugally furnished, it may be imagined that the hazard of the road does not favour all in the same way, but rather allots abundance to one and penury to another. The grub that does not eat its fill remains small, while the one that gluts itself grows fat. These differences of size, in themselves, betray parasitism. If a mother's pains had amassed the food, or if the family had had the industry to obtain it direct instead of robbing others, the ration would be practically equal for all; and the inequalities in size would be reduced to those which often occur between the two sexes.

They speak, moreover, of a precarious, risky parasitism, wherein the Meloid is not sure of finding its food, which the Sitaris finds so deftly, getting itself carried by the Anthophora, after being born at the very entrance to the Bee's galleries and leaving its retreat only to slip into its host's fleece. A vagabond obliged to find for itself the food that suits it, the Cerocoma incurs the risk of Lenten fare.

One chapter is lacking to complete the history of Schaeffer's Cerocoma: that which treats of the beginning, the laying of the eggs, the egg itself and the primary larva. While watching the development of the Mantis-eating parasite, I took my precautions, in the first year, to discover its starting-point. By eliminating what was known to me and seeking among the Meloidæ of my neighbourhood for the size that corresponded with the pseudochrysalids unearthed from the Tachytes' burrows, I found, as I have said, only Schaeffer's Cerocoma and the Twelve-spotted Mylabris. I undertook to rear these in order to obtain their eggs.

As a standard of comparison, the Four-spotted Mylabris, of a more imposing size, was added to the first two. A fourth, Zonitis mutica, whom I did not need to consult, knowing that she was not connected with the matter in hand and being familiar with her pseudochrysalis, completed my school of egg-layers. I proposed, if possible, to obtain her primary larva. Lastly, I had formerly reared some Cantharides with the object of observing their egg-laying. In all, five species of Blister-beetles, reared in a breeding-cage, have left a few lines of notes in my records.

The method of rearing is of the simplest. Each species is placed under a large wire-gauze dome standing in a basin filled with earth. In the middle of the enclosure is a bottle full of water, in which the food soaks and keeps fresh. For the Cantharides, this is a bundle of ash-twigs; for the Four-spotted Mylabris, a bunch of bindweed (Convolvus arvensis) or psoralea (P. biluminosa), of which the insect nibbles only the corollæ. For the Twelve-spotted Mylabris, I provide blossoms of the scabious (Scabiosa maritima); for the Zonitis, the full-blown heads of the eryngo (Eryngium campestre); for Schaeffer's Cerocoma, the heads of the Îles d'Hyères everlasting (Helichrysum stoechas). These three last nibble more particularly the anthers, more rarely the petals, never the leaves.

A sorry intellect and sorry manners, which hardly repay the minute cares involved in the rearing. To browse, to love her lord, to dig a hole in the earth and carelessly to bury her eggs in it: that is the whole life of the adult Meloid. The dull creature acquires a little interest only at the moment when the male begins to toy with his mate. Every species has its own ritual in declaring its passion; and it is not beneath the dignity of the observer to witness the manifestations, sometimes so very strange, of the universal Eros, who rules the world and brings a tremor to even the lowest of the brute creation. This is the ultimate aim of the insect, which becomes transfigured for this solemn function and then dies, having no more to do.

A curious book might be written on the subject of love among the beasts. Long ago the subject tempted me. For a quarter of a century my notes have been slumbering, dustily, in a corner of my library. I extract from them the following details concerning the Cantharides. I am not the first, I know, to describe the amorous preludes of the Meloid of the Ash-tree; but the change of narrator may give the narrative a certain value: it confirms what has already been said and throws light upon some points which may have escaped notice.

A female Cantharides is peacefully nibbling her leaf. A lover comes upon the scene, approaches her from behind, suddenly mounts upon her back and embraces her with his two pairs of hind-legs. Then with his abdomen, which he lengthens as much as possible, he energetically slaps that of the female, on the right side and the left by turns. It is like the strokes of a washerwoman's bat, delivered with frenzied rapidity. With his antennæ and his fore-legs, which remain free, he furiously lashes the neck of the victim. While the blows fall thick as hail, in front and behind, the head and corselet of the amorous swain are shaken by an extravagant swaying and trembling. You would think that the creature was having an epileptic fit.

Meanwhile, the beloved makes herself small, opening her wing-cases slightly, hiding her head and tucking her abdomen under her, as though to escape the erotic thunderstorm that is bursting upon her back. But the paroxysm calms down. The male extends his fore-legs, shaken by a nervous tremor, like the arms of a cross and in this ecstatic posture seems to call upon the heavens to witness the ardour of his desires. The antennæ and the belly are held motionless, in a straight line; the head and the corselet alone continue to heave rapidly up and down. This period of repose does not last long. Short as it is, the female, her appetite undisturbed by the passionate protestations of her wooer, imperturbably resumes the nibbling of her leaf.

Another paroxysm bursts forth. Once more the male's blows rain upon the neck of the tightly-clasped victim, who hastens to bow her head upon her breast. But he has no intention of allowing his lady-love to escape. With his fore-legs, using a special notch placed at the juncture of the leg and the tarsus, he seizes both her antennæ. The tarsus folds back; and the antennæ are held as in a vice. The suitor pulls; and the callous one is forced to raise her head. In this posture the male reminds one of a horseman proudly sitting his steed and holding the reins in both hands. Thus mastering his mount, he is sometimes motionless and sometimes frenzied in his demonstrations. Then, with his long abdomen, he lashes the female's hinder-parts, first on one side, then on the other; the front part he flogs, hammers and pounds with blows of his antennæ, head and feet. The object of his desires will be unfeeling indeed if she refuse to surrender to so passionate a declaration.

Nevertheless she still requires entreating. The impassioned lover resumes his ecstatic immobility, with his quivering arms outstretched like the limbs of a cross. At brief intervals the amorous outbursts, with blows conscientiously distributed, recur in alternation with periods of repose, during which the male holds his fore-legs crosswise, or else masters the female by the bridle of her antennæ. At last the flagellated beauty allows herself to be touched by the charm attendant on his thumps. She yields. Coupling takes place and lasts for twenty hours. The heroic part of the male's performance is over. Dragged backwards behind the female, the poor fellow strives to uncouple himself. His mate carts him about from leaf to leaf, wherever she pleases, so that she may choose the bit of green stuff to her taste. Sometimes he also takes a gallant resolve and, like the female, begins to browse. You lucky creatures, who, so as not to lose a moment of your four or five weeks' existence, yoke together the cravings of love and hunger! Your motto is, "A short life and a merry one."

The Cerocoma, who is a golden green like the Cantharides, seems to have partly adopted the amorous rites of her rival in dress. The male, always the elegant sex in the insect tribe, wears special ornaments. The horns or antennæ, magnificently complicated, form as it were two tufts of a thick head of hair. It is to this that the name Cerocoma refers: the creature crested with its horns. When a bright sun shines into the breeding-cage, it is not long before the insects form couples on the bunch of everlastings. Hoisted on the female, whom he embraces and holds with his two pairs of hind-legs, the male sways his head and corselet up and down, all in a piece. This oscillatory movement has not the fiery precipitation of that of the Cantharides; it is calmer and as it were rhythmical. The abdomen moreover remains motionless and seems unskilled in those slaps, as of a washerwoman's bat, which the amorous denizen of the ash-tree so vigorously distributes with his belly.

While the front half of the body swings up and down, the fore-legs execute magnetic passes on either side of the tight-clasped female, moving with a sort of twirl, so rapidly that the eye can hardly follow them. The female appears insensible to this flagellatory twirl. She innocently curls her antennæ. The rejected suitor leaves her and moves on to another. His dizzy, twirling passes, his protestations are everywhere refused. The moment has not yet arrived, or rather the spot is not propitious. Captivity appears to weigh upon the future mothers. Before listening to their wooers they must have the open air, the sudden joyful flight from cluster to cluster on the sunlit slope, all gold with everlastings. Apart from the idyll of the twirling passes, a mitigated form of the Cantharides' blows, the Cerocoma refused to yield before my eyes to the last act of the bridal.

Among males the same oscillations of the body and the same lateral flagellations are frequently practised. While the upper one makes a tremendous to-do and whirls his legs, the one under him keeps quiet. Sometimes a third scatterbrain comes on the scene, sometimes even a fourth, and mounts upon the heap of his predecessors. The uppermost bobs up and down and makes swift rowing-strokes with his fore-legs; the others remain motionless. Thus are the sorrows of the rejected beguiled for a moment.

The Zonites, a rude clan, grazing on the heads of the prickly eryngo, despise all tender preliminaries. A few rapid vibrations of the antennæ on the males' part; and that is all. The declaration could not be briefer. The pairing, with the creatures placed end to end, lasts nearly an hour.

The Mylabres also must be very expeditious in their preliminaries, so much so that my cages, which were kept well-stocked for two summers, provided me with numerous batches of eggs without giving me a single opportunity of catching the males in the least bit of a flirtation. Let us therefore consider the egg-laying.

This takes place in August for our two species of Mylabres. In the vegetable mould which does duty as a floor to the wire-gauze dome, the mother digs a pit four-fifths of an inch deep and as wide as her body. This is the place for the eggs. The laying lasts barely half an hour. I have seen it last thirty-six hours with Sitares. This quickness of the Mylabris points to an incomparably less numerous family. The hiding-place is next closed. The mother sweeps up the rubbish with her fore-legs, collects it with the rake of her mandibles and pushes it back into the pit, into which she now descends to stamp upon the powdery layer and cram it down with her hind-legs, which I see swiftly working. When this layer is well packed, she starts raking together fresh material to complete the filling of the hole, which is carefully trampled stratum by stratum.

I take the mother from her pit while she is engaged in filling it up. Delicately, with the tip of a camel-hair pencil, I move her a couple of inches. The Beetle does not return to her batch of eggs, does not even look for it. She climbs up the wire gauze and proceeds to graze among her companions on the bindweed or scabious, without troubling herself further about her eggs, whose hiding-place is only half-filled. A second mother, whom I move only one inch, is no longer able to return to her task, or rather does not think of doing so. I take a third, after shifting her just as slightly, and, while the forgetful creature is climbing up the trellis-work, bring her back to the pit. I replace her with her head at the opening. The mother stands motionless, looking thoroughly perplexed. She sways her head, passes her front tarsi through her mandibles, then moves away and climbs to the top of the dome without attempting anything. In each of these three cases I have to finish filling in the pit myself. What then are this maternity, which the touch of a brush causes to forget its duties, and this memory, which is lost at a distance of an inch from the spot? Compare with these shortcomings of the adult the expert machinations of the primary larva, which knows where its victuals are and as its first action introduces itself into the dwelling of the host that is to feed it. How can time and experience be factors of instinct? The newborn animalcule amazes us with its foresight; the adult insect astonishes us with its stupidity.

With both Mylabres, the batch consists of some forty eggs, a very small number compared with those of the Oil-beetle and the Sitaris. This limited family was already foreseen, judging by the short space of time which the egg-layer spends in her underground lodging. The eggs of the Twelve-spotted Mylabris are white, cylindrical, rounded at both ends and measure a millimetre and a half in length by half a millimetre in width.6 Those of the Four-spotted Mylabris are straw coloured and of an elongated oval, a trifle fuller at one end than at the other. Length, two millimetres; width, a little under one millimetre.7

6 .058 x .019 inch.—Translator's Note.

7 .078 x .039 inch.—Translator's Note.

Of all the batches of eggs collected, one alone hatched. The rest were probably sterile, a suspicion corroborated by the lack of pairing in the breeding-cage. Laid at the end of July, the eggs of the Twelve-spotted Mylabris began to hatch on the 5th of September. The primary larva of this Meloid is still unknown, so far as I am aware; and I shall describe it in detail. It will be the starting-point of a chapter which perhaps will give us some fresh sidelights upon the history of the hypermetamorphosis.

The larva is nearly 2 millimetres long.8 Coming out of a good-sized egg, it is endowed with greater vigour than the larvæ of the Sitares and Oil-beetles. The head is large, rounded, slightly wider than the prothorax and of a rather brighter red. Mandibles powerful, sharp, curved, with the ends crossing, of the same colour as the head, darker at the tips. Eyes black, prominent, globular, very distinct. Antennæ fairly long, with three joints, the last thinner and pointed. Palpi very much pronounced.

8 .078 inch.—Translator's Note.

The first thoracic segment has very nearly the same diameter as the head and is much longer than those which come after. It forms a sort of cuirass equal in length to almost three abdominal segments. It is squared off in front in a straight line and is rounded at the sides and at the back. Its colour is bright red. The second ring is hardly a third as long as the first. It is also red, but a little browner. The third is dark brown, with a touch of green to it. This tint is repeated throughout the abdomen, so that in the matter of colouring the creature is divided into two sections: the front, which is a fairly bright red, includes the head and the first two thoracic segments; the second, which is a greenish brown, includes the third thoracic segment and the nine abdominal rings.

The three pairs of legs are pale red, strong and long, considering the creature's smallness. They end in a single long, sharp claw.

The abdomen has nine segments, all of an olive brown. The membranous spaces which connect them are white, so that, from the second thoracic ring downwards, the tiny creature is alternatively ringed with white and olive brown. All the brown rings bristle with short, sparse hairs. The anal segment, which is narrower than the rest, bears at the tip two long cirri, very fine, slightly waved and almost as long as the whole abdomen.

This description enables us to picture a sturdy little creature, capable of biting lustily with its mandibles, exploring the country with its big eyes and moving about with six strong harpoons as a support. We no longer have to do with the puny louse of the Oil-beetle, which lies in ambush on a cichoriaceous blossom in order to slip into the fleece of a harvesting Bee; nor with the black atom of the Sitaris, which swarms in a heap on the spot where it is hatched, at the Anthophora's door. I see the young Mylabris striding eagerly up and down the glass tube in which it was born.

What is it seeking? What does it want? I give it a Bee, a Halictus,9 to see if it will settle on the insect, as the Sitares and Oil-beetles would not fail to do. My offer is scorned. It is not a winged conveyance that my prisoners require.

9 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chaps. xii. to xiv.—Translator's Note.

The primary larva of the Mylabris therefore does not imitate those of the Sitaris and the Oil-beetle; it does not settle in the fleece of its host to get itself carried to the cell crammed with victuals. The task of seeking and finding the heap of food falls upon its own shoulders. The small number of the eggs that constitute a batch also leads to the same conclusion. Remember that the primary larva of the Oil-beetle, for instance, settles on any insect that happens to pay a momentary visit to the flower in which the tiny creature is on the look-out. Whether this visitor be hairy or smooth-skinned, a manufacturer of honey, a canner of animal flesh or without any determined calling, whether she be Spider, Butterfly, Fly or Beetle makes no difference: the instant the little yellow louse espies the new arrival, it perches on her back and leaves with her. And now it all depends on luck! How many of these stray travellers must be lost; how many will never be carried into a warehouse full of honey, their sole food! Therefore, to remedy this enormous waste, the mother produces an innumerable family. The Oil-beetle's batch of eggs is prodigious. Prodigious too is that of the Sitaris, who is exposed to similar misadventures.

If, with her thirty or forty eggs, the Mylabris had to run the same risks, perhaps not one larva would reach the desired goal. For so strictly limited a family a safer method is needed. The young larva must not get itself carried to the game-basket, or more probably to the honey-pot, at the risk of never reaching it; it must travel on its own legs. Allowing myself to be guided by the logic of things, I shall therefore complete the story of the Twelve-spotted Mylabris as follows.

The mother lays her eggs underground near the spots frequented by the foster-mothers. The recently-hatched young grubs leave their lodgings in September and travel within a restricted radius in search of burrows containing food. The little creature's sturdy legs allow of these underground investigations. The mandibles, which are just as strong, necessarily play their part. The parasite, on forcing its way into the food-pit, finds itself faced with either the egg or the young larva of the Bee. These are competitors, whom it is important to get rid of as quickly as possible. The hooks of the mandibles now come into play, tearing the egg or the defenceless grub. After this act of brigandage, which may be compared with that of the primary larva of the Sitaris ripping open and drinking the contents of the Anthophora's egg, the Meloid, now the sole possessor of the victuals, doffs its battle array and becomes the pot-bellied grub, the consumer of the property so brutally acquired. These are merely suspicions on my part, nothing more. Direct observation will, I believe, confirm them, so close is their connection with the known facts.

Two Zonites, both visitors of the eryngo-heads during the heats of summer, are among the Meloidæ of my part of the country. They are Zonitis mutica and Z. præusta. I have spoken of the first in another volume;10 I have mentioned its pseudochrysalis found in the cells of two Osmiæ, namely, the Three-pronged Osmia, which piles its cells in a dry bramble-stem, and the Three-horned Osmia and also Latreille's Osmia, both of which exploit the nests of the Chalicodoma of the Sheds. The second Zonitis is to-day adding its quota of evidence to a story which is still very incomplete. I have obtained the Burnt Zonitis, in the first place, from the cotton pouches of Anthidium scapulare, who, like the Three-toothed Osmia, makes her nests in the brambles; in the second place, from the wallets of Megachile sericans, made with little round disks of the leaves of the common acacia; in the third place, from the cells which Anthidium bellicosum11 builds with partitions of resin in the shell of a dead Snail. This last Anthidium is the victim also of the Unarmed Zonitis. Thus we have two closely-related exploiters for the same victim.

10 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chaps. i., iii. and x.—Translator's Note.

11 For the Cotton-bee, Leaf-cutter and Resin-bee mentioned, cf. Bramble-bees and Others: passim.—Translator's Note.

During the last fortnight of July, I witness the emergence of the Burnt Zonitis from the pseudochrysalis. The latter is cylindrical, slightly curved and rounded at both ends. It is closely wrapped in the cast skin of the secondary larva, a skin consisting of a diaphanous bag, without any outlet, with running along each side a white tracheal thread which connects the various stigmatic apertures. I easily recognize the seven abdominal stigmata; they are round and diminish slightly in width from front to back. I also detect the thoracic stigma. Lastly, I perceive the legs, which are quite small, with weak claws, incapable of supporting the creature. Of the mouth-parts I see plainly only the mandibles, which are short, weak and brown. In short, the secondary larva was soft, white, big-bellied, blind, with rudimentary legs. Similar results were furnished by the shed skin of the secondary larva of Zonitis mutica, consisting, like the other, of a bag without an opening, fitting closely over the pseudochrysalis.

Let us continue our examination of the relics of the Burnt Zonitis. The pseudochrysalis is red, the colour of a cough-lozenge. It remains intact after opening, except in front, where the adult insect has emerged. In shape it is a cylindrical bag, with firm, elastic walls. The segmentation is plainly visible. The magnifying-glass shows the fine star-shaped dots already observed in the Unarmed Zonitis. The stigmatic apertures have a projecting, dark-red rim. They are all, even the last, clearly marked. The signs of the legs are mere studs, hardly protruding, a little darker than the rest of the skin. The cephalic mask is reduced to a few mouldings which are not easy to distinguish.

At the bottom of this pseudochrysalidal sheath I find a little white wad which, when placed in water, softened and then patiently unravelled with the tip of a paint-brush, yields a white, powdery substance, which is uric acid, the usual product of the work of the nymphosis, and a rumpled membrane, in which I recognize the cast skin of the nymph. There should still be the tertiary larva, of which I see not a trace. But, on taking a needle and gradually breaking the envelope of the pseudochrysalis, after soaking it awhile in water, I see it dividing into two layers, one an outer layer, brittle, horny in appearance and currant-red; the other an inner layer, consisting of a transparent, flexible pellicle. There can be no doubt that this inner layer represents the tertiary larva, whose skin is left adhering to the envelope of the pseudochrysalis. It is fairly thick and tough, but I cannot detach it except in shreds, so closely does it adhere to the horny, crumbly sheath.

Since I possessed a fair number of pseudochrysalids, I sacrificed a few in order to ascertain their contents on the approach of the final transformations. Well, I never found anything that I could detach; I never succeeded in extracting a larva in its tertiary form, though this larva is so easily obtained from the amber pouches of the Sitares and, in the Oil-beetles and Cerocomæ, emerges of its own accord from the split wrapper of the pseudochrysalis. When, for the first time, the stiff shell encloses a body which does not adhere to the rest, this body is a nymph and nothing else. The wall surrounding it is a dull white inside. I attribute this colouring to the cast skin of the tertiary larva, which was inseparably fixed to the shell of the pseudochrysalis.

The Zonites, therefore, display a peculiarity which is not offered by the other Meloidæ, namely, a series of tightly-fitting shells, one within the other. The pseudochrysalis is enclosed in the skin of the secondary larva, a skin which forms a pouch without an orifice, fitted very closely to its contents. The slough of the tertiary larva fits even more closely to the inner surface of the pseudochrysalid sheath. The nymph alone does not adhere to its envelope. In the Cerocomæ and the Oil-beetles, each form of the hypermetamorphosis becomes detached from the preceding skin by a complete extraction; the contents are removed from the ruptured container and have no further connection with it. In the Sitares, the successive casts are not ruptured and remain enclosed inside one another, but with an interval between, so that the tertiary larva can move and turn as it wishes in its multiple enclosure. In the Zonites, there is the same arrangement, with this difference, that, until the nymph appears, there is no empty space between one slough and the next. The tertiary larva cannot budge. It is not free, as witness its cast skin, which fits so precisely to the envelope of the pseudochrysalis. This form would therefore pass unperceived if its existence were not proclaimed by the membrane which lines the inside of the pseudochrysalid pouch.

To complete the story of the Zonites, the primary larva is lacking. I do not yet know it, for, when rearing the insect under wire-gauze covers, I never succeeded in obtaining a batch of eggs.