THE COMMON WASP (continued)

The Mason-Wasps by Jean-Henri Fabre, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE COMMON WASP (continued) CHAPTER XI. THE COMMON WASP (continued) Of the calamities that befall the Wasp when winter arrives, the worst remains to be told. Foreseeing the approach of failing power, the neuters, hitherto the tenderest of nurses, become savage exterminators: “Let us leave no orphans,” they say to themselves; “no one would tend them after we are gone. Let us kill everything, belated eggs and larvæ alike. A violent end is preferable to slow death by starvation.” A massacre of the innocents ensues. Seized by the scruff of the neck and brutally extirpated from their cells, the larvæ are dragged out of the nest and thrown into the vat at the bottom of the crypt; the eggs, those delicate morsels, are ripped open and devoured. Will it be possible for me to witness this tragic end of the city, not in the fulness of its horror—that ambition is too far beyond my resources—but at least in some of its scenes? Let us try. In October, I place under cover a few fragments of a nest which have been saved [ ]from asphyxiation. By moderating the dose of petrol I can easily obtain a number of Wasps afflicted merely with a passing torpor, which enables me to collect them without being stung and which disappears as the sufferers are exposed to the air. Note also that, even with a fairly strong dose of petrol, capable of killing all the adults, the larvæ do not succumb. Mere digesting bellies, they hold out when the more delicately-organized adults perish. Safe from misadventure, I have been able in this way to establish in a cage a portion of a nest rich in eggs and larvæ, with some hundred neuters as attendants. 271 To facilitate my inspection, I separate the combs and place them side by side, with the openings of the cells turned upwards. This arrangement, which reverses the normal, does not appear to annoy my captives, who, soon recovering from their disturbance, set to work as if nothing unusual had occurred. In case they should wish to build, I give them a slip of soft wood to draw upon. Lastly, I feed them with honey, poured into a pool on a strip of paper and renewed daily. The underground cavern is represented by a large earthen pan surmounted by a wire-gauze cover. A cardboard dome, placed over the [ ]cover or removed at will, provides alternately the obscurity demanded by the Wasps’ labours and the light needed for my observations. 272 The work is continued from one day to another. The Wasps attend at the same time to the larvæ and to the house. The builders begin to erect a wall round the most thickly-colonized combs. Do they intend to repair the disaster and build a new envelope, which will replace the vanished enclosing wall? The progress of the operation seems to tell us no. They are simply continuing the work which my terrible flask and my spade have interrupted. Over an area embracing hardly a third of the comb, they erect an arched roof of paper scales which would have been joined to the envelope of the nest had it been intact. They are not beginning again; they are continuing. In any case, the sort of tent thus obtained shelters but a small part of the disk of cells. This is not for lack of materials. To begin with, there is the slip of wood, providing, in my opinion, an excellent supply of fibrous scraps. But the Wasps do not touch it. Perhaps I have chosen the wrong sort of piece, being but ill-versed in the secrets of Vespian paper-making.[ ] 273 To these raw materials, which are troublesome to work, they prefer the old cells, now fallen into disuse. In these the felted fibres are ready prepared and have only to be reduced to pulp again. With a slight expenditure of saliva and a little grinding in the mandibles, it yields a product of the highest quality. The uninhabited cells, therefore, are demolished by degrees, nibbled and razed to their foundations. Out of the ruins a sort of canopy is built. New cells would be constructed in the same way if they were needed. This confirms what the upper stories with demolished cells made us foresee: the Wasps build new cells with old. The feeding of the grubs deserves examination even more than this roofing-work. One would never weary of the spectacle of these rough fighters converted into tender nurses. The barracks are turned into a crèche. What care, what vigilance in the rearing of the grubs! Let us watch one of the busy Wasps. Her crop swollen with honey, she halts in front of a cell; almost pensively she bends her head into the orifice; she questions the recluse with the tip of her antenna. The larva wakes and gapes at her, like the fledgeling when the mother-bird returns to the nest with food.[ ] 274 For a moment, the awakened larva swings its head to and fro: it is blind and is trying to feel the pap brought to it. The two mouths meet; a drop of syrup passes from the nurse’s mouth to the nurseling’s. That is enough for the moment. Now for the next. The Wasp moves on, to continue her duties elsewhere. The larva, on its side, licks the base of its neck for a few seconds. There is here, at the moment when the grub is being served with food, a sort of projecting bib, a temporary dewlap which forms a porringer and receives what trickles from the lips. After swallowing the bulk of the ration, the larva finishes its meal by gathering up the crumbs which have fallen on its bib. Then the swelling disappears; and the grub, withdrawing a little way into its cell, resumes its sweet slumbers. The better to watch this curious fashion of eating, I happen by good luck to have a few powerful Hornet-larvæ. I slip them singly into paper sheaths, which will represent their natal cells. Thus swaddled, my fat babies lend themselves excellently to observation when I myself distribute their rations. In my young days, we had a trick of tapping [ ]with our finger the incipient tail of the Sparrow whom we were rearing. The pupil at once yawned, ready to receive his food. I like to imagine that this system of bird-training is still in vogue. But there is no need of these stimulating preliminaries to arouse the appetite of the Hornet’s offspring. They yawn of their own accord at the least touch that I give to their cell. The lucky creatures have ever-ready stomachs. 275 Taking a piece of straw with a drop of honey hanging from it, I place the delicious ration between the grub’s mandibles. There is too much for a single mouthful. But the breast swells into a dewlap which catches the surplus. Here the grub will take a few more sips, at its leisure, after swallowing the spoonful which it received direct. When there is no more left, when the pectoral platter is licked clean, the swelling disappears and the larva resumes its immobility. Thanks to this short-lived swelling, suddenly flung out and as suddenly withdrawn, the diner has its table spread beneath its chin; without assistance from others, it finishes its meal alone. When fed in my cage, the Wasps’ grubs have their heads up; and what escapes their lips collects upon the dewlap. When fed [ ]normally, in the Wasps’-nest, they have their heads down. In this position is the protuberance on the breast of any service? I cannot doubt it. 276 By slightly bending its head, the larva can always deposit on its projecting bib a portion of the copious mouthful, which adheres to it by reason of its stickiness. Further, there is nothing to tell us that the nurse does not herself deposit the surplus of her helping on this spot. Whether it be above or below the mouth, right way up or upside down, the pectoral porringer fulfils its office because of the sticky nature of the food. It is a temporary saucer which shortens the work of serving and enables the grub to feed in a more or less leisurely fashion and without too much gluttony. In the cage my Wasps are fed with honey, which they disgorge for the larvæ, once their crops are full. Both nurses and nurselings seem to thrive on this diet. Nevertheless, I know that the usual food is game. I have described elsewhere the hunting of the Eristalis by the Common Wasp and of the Hive-bee by the Hornet. The moment she is caught, the big Fly in particular is dismembered; [ ]the head, wings, legs and belly, those meagre portions, are cut off with snips of the shears. There remains the breast, which is rich in muscular tissues. This is the booty which, minced small upon the spot and reduced to a pill, is carried to the nest as a feast for the larvæ. 1 277 To honey, therefore, let us add game. I slip a few Eristales under the wire dome. At first the newcomers are not molested. The turbulent Flies, fluttering, buzzing, butting their heads against the wire-gauze, create no sensation in the cage. The inmates take no notice of them. If one of them pass too near to a Wasp, the Wasp just raises her head, as though in threat. That is quite enough; the Fly decamps. Matters become more serious around the strip of paper covered with honey. The refectory is assiduously frequented by the Wasps. If the Eristalis, watching jealously from afar, venture to approach, one of the banqueters separates from the group, rushes headlong at the daring one, catches her by the leg and sends her to the right-about. The encounter is not really grave except when the Fly commits the imprudence of alighting on a comb. Then the Wasps fling themselves upon the hapless intruder, roll her over [ ]and over, cuff her and drub her and drag her outside crippled or, as often as not, dead. The body is disdainfully rejected. 278 I renew my attempts in vain; I cannot reproduce the scenes which I used to witness on the aster-blossoms: the capture of the Eristalis and her reduction to mincemeat for the larvæ. Perhaps this strong animal fare is distributed only on certain occasions which are not realized in my cage; or perhaps—and I more incline to favour this idea—honey is judged to be better than meat. My prisoners have plenty of it, served up fresh daily. The nurselings thrive on this diet; and the salmis of Flies is rejected in consequence. 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 [ ]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. 279 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. [ ]Once more, I remark, it is not a good thing to enter the Wasps’ nest, even by accident and without any bad intention. 280 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, 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. 2 With the Hylotoma-larva the Wasps did [ ]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, an imposing grub extracted that moment from under the bark of a dead cherry-tree. 281 3 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. [ ]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. 283 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. In the cage, however, the grubs generally display a well-fed, glossy skin, a certificate of good health. But see what happens on the [ ]advent of the first cold nights of November. The building proceeds with diminished enthusiasm; the visits to the pool of honey are less assiduous. Household duties are relaxed. Grubs gaping with hunger receive tardy relief, or are even neglected. Profound uneasiness seizes upon the nurses. Their former devotion is succeeded by indifference, which soon turns to aversion. What is the use of continuing attentions which presently will become impossible? In view of the imminent famine, our beloved nurselings must die a tragic death. 284 The neuters, in fact, grab the late-born larvæ, these to-day, those to-morrow, sooner or later the rest, and root them out of their cells with the same violence which they would employ against a stranger or a lifeless body; they tug at them, savagely rend them; and all this poor flesh is sent down to the pit. Before much longer, the neuters themselves, the executioners, are languidly dragging what remains of their lives. At length they also succumb, killed by the weather. November is not yet past; and nothing is left alive in my cage. The final massacre of the tardy larvæ must take place underground in more or less the same manner, but on a larger scale.[ ] 285 Day after day the catacombs of the Wasps’-nest receive the dead and dying hurled down from above, sickly larvæ and such Wasps as have been injured by accident. Rare in the prosperous season, these falls into the charnel-heap become increasingly frequent as winter approaches. When the late-born grubs are being exterminated and above all at the moment of the final catastrophe, when the adults, males, females and neuters, are dying in their thousands, the manna descends in a copious downfall daily. The host of devourers has hastened up, receiving only a little at first, but foreseeing great junketings in the future. By the end of November, the bottom of the crypt is a swarming hostelry, dominated numerically by the grubs of certain Flies, those undertakers of the Wasps’-nests. I gather great numbers of the larvæ of the Volucella, who deserves a chapter to herself, by reason of her fame. I find here, poking its tapering head into the bellies of the corpses, a naked, white, pointed maggot, smaller than that of the Luciliæ. It works promiscuously with a second, even smaller grub, brown and clad in a prickly smock. I come upon a dwarf [ ]which, looping and unlooping, wriggles about like the Cheese-mites. 4 286 All of them are dissecting, dismembering and disembowelling with so much zeal that, when February arrives, they have not yet had time to shrink into pupæ. It is so pleasant here, sheltered against the inclemencies of the weather, in the snug basement, with provisions in abundance! Why hurry? These smug eaters expect to consume the heap of victuals before hardening their skin into a barrel. They linger so long over their banquet that I forget to secure them for my rearing-phials; and I can say no more about their history. In the charnel-houses of Moles and Snakes in my aerial retting-vats, I used to note, from time to time, the arrival of the largest of our Staphylini, S. maxillosus, who, in passing, would make a brief stay under the putrid mass and then proceed to pursue her business elsewhere. The Wasps’ charnel-house similarly has short-winged Beetles among its habitual visitors. I often come upon Quedius fulgidas, Fab., there, the one with the red wing-cases. But this time it is not a temporary hostelry; it is a family establishment, [ ]for the adult Staphylinus is accompanied by her larva. I also find Wood-lice and Millipedes, of the genus Polydesma, both inferior trenchermen, feeding probably on the humours oozing from the dead. 5 6 287 Let us also mention one of the outstanding insect-eaters, the tiniest of our mammals, the Shrew, who is smaller than the Common Mouse. At the time of the final catastrophe, when sickness has calmed the aggressive fury of the Wasps, the visitor with the pointed muzzle steals into the nest. Exploited by a pair of Shrew-mice, the dying crowd is soon reduced to a heap of remnants which the maggots end by clearing out. The ruins themselves will perish. A caterpillar that develops later into a mean-looking, whitish Moth; a Cryptophagus, a tiny reddish Beetle; and a larva of one of the Dermestes (Attagenus pellio), clad in scaly gold velvet, gnaw the floors of the stages and crumble the whole dwelling. A few pinches of dust, a few shreds of brown paper are all that remains, by the return of spring, of the Vespian city and its thirty thousand inhabitants. 7 About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jean-Henri Fabre (2021). The Mason-WaspsT. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. 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