When all was gathered, the band wished to retreat, but not one of the prisoners paid any attention to the central hole by which he had arrived. Gobbling uneasily, they passed again and again across the bridge whose arch was yawning beside them; they circled round against the palisade, treading a hundred times in their own footprints; they thrust their necks, with their crimson wattles, through the bars; and there, with their beaks in the open air, they fought and struggled until they were exhausted. Remember, O inept one, what happened but a little while ago; think of the tunnel that led you hither! If that poor brain of yours contains an atom of ability, put two ideas together and remind yourself that the passage by which you entered is there and open for your escape! You will do nothing of the kind. The light, an irresistible attraction, holds you subjugated against the palisade; and the shadow of the yawning pit, which has but lately permitted you to enter and will quite as readily permit you to go out, leaves you indifferent. To recognize the use of this opening you would have to reflect a little, to recall the past; but this tiny retrospective calculation is beyond your powers. So the trapper, returning a few days later, will find a rich booty, the entire flock imprisoned! Of poor intellectual repute, does the Turkey deserve his name for stupidity? He does not appear to be more limited than another. Audubon depicts him as endowed with certain useful ruses, in particular when he has to baffle the attacks of his nocturnal enemy, the Virginian Owl. As for his behaviour in the snare with the underground passage, any other bird, impassioned of the light, would do the same. Under rather more difficult conditions, the Necrophorus repeats the ineptness of the Turkey. When he wishes to return to the daylight, after resting in a short burrow against the rim of the cover, the Beetle, seeing a little light filtering through the loose soil, reascends the entrance-well, incapable of telling himself that he has only to prolong the tunnel as far in the opposite direction to reach the outer world beyond the wall and gain his freedom. Here again is one in whom we shall seek in vain for any sign of reflection. Like the rest, in spite of his legendary renown, he has no guide but the unconscious promptings of instinct. CHAPTER XIII THE GIANT SCARITES The military profession can hardly be said to favour the talents. Consider the Carabus, or Ground-beetle, that fiery warrior among the insect people. What can he do? In the way of industry, nothing or next to nothing. Nevertheless the dull butcher is magnificent in his indescribably sumptuous jerkin. It has the refulgency of copper pyrites, of gold, of Florentine bronze. While clad in black, he enriches his sombre costume with a vivid amethyst hem. On the wing-cases, which fit him like a cuirass, he wears little chains of alternate pins and bosses.