To-day, moreover, it is wild weather; the _bise_ is moaning, glacial, cracking one's lips. One needs a robust faith to go out on such a day in order to inspect the thickets. Yet if the beetle with the long beak exploits the acorns, as I think it does, the time presses if I am to catch it at its work. The acorns, still green, have acquired their full growth. In two or three weeks they will attain the chestnut brown of perfect maturity, quickly followed by their fall. My seemingly futile pilgrimage ends in success. On the evergreen oaks I surprise a Balaninus with the trunk half sunk in an acorn. Careful observation is impossible while the branches are shaken by the _mistral_. I detach the twig and lay it gently upon the ground. The insect takes no notice of its removal; it continues its work. I crouch beside it, sheltered from the storm behind a mass of underwood, and watch operations. Shod with adhesive sandals which later on, in my laboratory, will allow it rapidly to climb a vertical sheet of glass, the elephant-beetle is solidly established on the smooth, steep curvature of the acorn. It is working its drill. Slowly and awkwardly it moves around its implanted weapon, describing a semicircle whose centre is the point of the drill, and then another semicircle in the reverse direction. This is repeated over and over again; the movement, in short, is identical with that we give to a bradawl when boring a hole in a plank. Little by little the rostrum sinks into the acorn. At the end of an hour it has entirely disappeared. A short period of repose follows, and finally the instrument is withdrawn. What is going to happen next? Nothing on this occasion. The Balaninus abandons its work and solemnly retires, disappearing among the withered leaves. For the day there is nothing more to be learned. But my interest is now awakened. On calm days, more favourable to the entomologist, I return to the woods, and I soon have sufficient insects to people my laboratory cages. Foreseeing a serious difficulty in the slowness with which the beetle labours, I prefer to study them indoors, with the unlimited leisure only to be found in one's own home. The precaution is fortunate. If I had tried to continue as I began, and to observe the Balaninus in the liberty of the woods, I should never, even with the greatest good fortune, have had the patience to follow to the end the choice of the acorn, the boring of the hole, and the laying of the eggs, so meticulously deliberate is the insect in all its affairs; as the reader will soon be able to judge.