By way of plumes, the male wears at the end of his short antennæ seven large superposed leaves, which, opening and closing like a fan, betray the emotions of the moment. At first sight one would take this superb foliage for a sense-organ of great perfection, capable of perceiving subtle odours, almost inaudible waves of sound or other means of information unknown to our senses; but the female warns us not to go too far in this direction. Her maternal duties demand that she should possess a susceptibility to impressions at least as great as that of the other sex; and yet her antennary plumes are very small and consist of six niggardly leaves. Then what is the use of the male’s enormous fan? The seven-leaved apparatus is to the Pine-chafer what his long, quivering horns are to the Capricorn and the panoply of the forehead to the Onthophagus and the forked antlers of the mandibles to the Stag-beetle. Each decks himself in his own fashion with nuptial extravagances. The handsome Cockchafer appears at the summer solstice, almost simultaneously with the first Cicadæ. [55] His punctual advent gives him a place in the entomological calendar, which is no less regular than that of the seasons. When the longest days come, those days which seem endless and gild the harvest, he never fails to hurry to his tree. The Midsummer bonfires, reminiscent of the festivals of the sun, which the children kindle in the village streets, are no more punctual in date. At this season, every evening, in the gloaming, if the weather be still, the Cockchafer comes to visit the pine-trees in the enclosure. I follow his evolutions with my eyes. With a silent, impetuous flight, the males especially veer to and fro, displaying their great antennary plumes; they make for the branches where the females await them; they fly back and forth, visible as dark streaks against the pallor of the sky, from which the last remnants of daylight are fading. They settle, take flight again and resume their busy rounds. What do they do up there, evening after evening, during the fortnight of the festival? The thing is evident: they are wooing the ladies and they continue to pay their respects until night has fallen. Next morning, both males and females commonly occupy the lower branches. They lie singly motionless, indifferent to passing events. They do not avoid the hand put out to seize them. Hanging by their hind-legs, most of them nibbling a pine-needle, they slumber drowsily, with the morsel, in their mouths. When twilight returns, they resume their frolics.