It is towards the end of July that this Sphex tears open the cocoon which until then has protected it, and flies away from its subterranean cradle. During the whole of August one constantly sees it seeking drops of honey on the spiny heads of Eryngium campestre, the commonest of such robust plants as brave the dog days. But this careless life is brief, for in the earliest days of September the Sphex has begun the hard existence of miner and hunter. It is usually on some small flat spot on banks along a road that the dwelling is established, only there must be two indispensable conditions—a sandy soil easy to work, and sun. Beyond this no precaution is taken to shelter the domicile against autumn rain and winter frost. A horizontal position, unsheltered, beaten by rain and wind, suit the Sphex perfectly, so long as it is exposed to the sun. But when the work is half-way through, if heavy rain should come, it is sad to see next day galleries in course of construction choked with sand and finally abandoned. Rarely does the Sphex work in solitude; it is in small bands of ten, twenty, or more excavators that the claim selected is worked. One must have spent some days watching one of these colonies in order to form any idea of the restless activity, the feverish haste, the abrupt movements, of these hard-working miners. They rapidly attack the ground with the rakes of their forefeet, canis instar, as Linnæus says. A puppy does not show more energy in scratching up the ground in play. At the same time each labourer hums a joyous song—shrill, high-pitched, interrupted at short intervals, and modulated by vibrations of wings and thorax. One would think they were a troop of merry comrades, stimulating one another to work by a cadenced rhythm. Meanwhile, the sand flies, falling in fine dust on their quivering wings, and the heavier gravel, pulled out bit by bit, rolls far away. If a bit resist too much, the insect goes at it with a high note, reminding one of the cry with which a woodcutter accompanies the stroke of his axe. Under the redoubled efforts of tarsi and mandibles the cavity is already sketched out, and the Sphex can already dart into it. Then comes a lively interchange of forward movements to detach material, and of backward to brush out fragments. In this hurried coming and going the Sphex does not so much walk as dart forward, as though impelled by a spring. With panting abdomen, antennæ vibrating, the whole body moved by a strong thrill, she springs forward and is out of sight. You still hear the unwearied hum underground, and one sees from time to time hind legs pushing backward a wave of sand to the mouth of the burrow. From time to time labour underground is interrupted either that the Sphex may dust herself in the sunlight, and get rid of grains of dust which insinuate themselves into delicate joints and hamper the liberty of her movements, or that she make a reconnaissance in the neighbourhood.