Next morning, at about eight, I mark them on the thorax with two white spots, to distinguish them from yesterday’s lot, who were marked with only one; and I set them free, one after the other, in the middle of the street. Each Cerceris released first shoots straight up between the two rows of houses, as though to escape as soon as possible from the narrow street and gain the spacious horizons; then, rising above the roofs, she at once darts away vigorously towards the south. And it was from the south that I brought them; it is in the south that their burrows are. Nine times, with nine prisoners, freed one after the other, I had this striking instance of the way in which the insect stranded far from home takes without hesitation the right direction for returning to the nest. I myself was at the burrows a few hours later. I saw several of yesterday’s Cerceres, recognizing them by the one white spot on the thorax; but I saw none of those whom I had just let loose. Had they not been able to find their home again? Were they hunting? Or were they hiding in their galleries to recover from the excitement of such a trial? I do not know. Next day I paid a fresh visit; and this time I had the satisfaction of finding at work, as active as though nothing out of the way had happened, five of the Cerceres with two white spots on the thorax. A journey of quite two miles, the town with its houses, its roofs, its smoky chimneys, all things so new to these utter rustics, had not prevented them from going back to the nest. When taken from his brood and carried to enormous distances, the Pigeon returns promptly to the dovecote. If we wanted to work out a proportion between the length of the journey and the size of the creature, how greatly superior to the Pigeon would be the Cerceris, who finds her burrow after being carried a distance of two miles! The bulk of the insect is not a cubic centimetre, [41] whereas that of the Pigeon must be quite a cubic decimetre, [42] if not more. The bird, being a thousand times larger than the Wasp, ought therefore, in order to rival her, to find the dovecote at a distance of two thousand miles, which is thrice the greatest length of France from north to south. I do not know that a Carrier-pigeon has ever performed such a feat. But power of flight and, still less, lucidity of instinct are qualities that cannot be measured by the yard. Comparative size cannot here be taken into consideration; and we must just look upon the insect as a worthy rival of the bird, without deciding which of the two has the advantage.