But here, with a loud buzz, comes a Sphex who, returning from the chase, stops on a neighbouring bush, holding in her mandibles, by one antenna, a large Cricket, several times her own weight. Exhausted by the burden, she takes a moment’s rest. Then she once more grips her captive between her feet and, with a supreme effort, covers in one flight the width of the ravine that separates her from her home. She alights heavily on the level ground where I am watching, in the very middle of a Sphex village. The rest of the journey is performed on foot. The Wasp, not at all intimidated by my presence, bestrides her victim and advances, bearing her head proudly aloft and hauling the Cricket, who trails between her legs, by an antenna held in her mandibles. If the ground be bare, it is easy to drag the victim along; but, should some grass-tuft spread the network of its shoots across the road, it is curious to observe the amazement of the Sphex when one of these little ropes suddenly thwarts her efforts; it is curious to witness her marches and counter-marches, her reiterated attempts, until the obstacle is overcome, either with the aid of the wings or by means of a clever deviation. The Cricket is at last conveyed to his destination and is so placed that his antennæ exactly touch the mouth of the burrow. The Sphex then abandons her prey and descends hurriedly to the bottom of the cave. A few seconds later we see her reappear, showing her head out of doors and giving a little cry of delight. The Cricket’s antennæ are within her reach; she seizes them and the game is brought quickly down to the lair.