You see: no journey, no carting, no preparations. The cake is carried down to the cellar by armfuls and at the identical spot where it is lying. The insect repeats, with an eye to its grubs, what it did when working for itself. As for the burrow, which is marked by a large mole-hill, it is a roomy cave dug at a depth of some twenty centimetres. [14] I observe a greater width, a greater perfection than in the temporary abodes occupied by the Copris at times of revelry. But let us leave the insect working in a state of liberty. The evidence supplied by chance meetings would be incomplete, fragmentary and disconnected. An examination in the volery is much to be preferred; and the Copris lends himself to this most admirably. Let us first watch the storing. In the discreet dusk of the twilight, I see him appear on the threshold of his burrow. He has mounted from the depths, he has come to gather his harvest. He has not long to seek: the provisions are there, outside the door, plentifully served and renewed by my care. Timidly, prepared to retreat at the least alarm, he walks up to them with a slow and measured step. The shield cuts and rummages, the fore-legs extract. An armful is separated from the rest, quite a modest armful, crumbling to pieces. The Copris drags it backwards and disappears underground. In less than two minutes, he is back again. Never forgetting his caution, he questions the neighbouring space with the outspread leaflets of his antennæ before crossing the threshold of his dwelling. A distance of two or three inches separates him from the heap. It is a serious matter for him to venture so far. He would have preferred the victuals exactly over his door, forming a roof to the house. This would avoid his having to go out, always a source of anxiety. I have decided otherwise. To facilitate my observations, I have placed the victuals just on one side. Little by little, the alarmist grows accustomed to the open air and accustomed to my presence, which, for that matter, I render as discreet as possible. The taking down of the armfuls is repeated indefinitely. They are always shapeless scraps, morsels such as one might pick off with a small pair of pincers. Having learnt what I want to know about the method of warehousing, I leave the insect to its work, which continues for the best part of the night. On the following days, nothing: the Copris goes out no more. Enough treasure has been amassed in a single night’s sitting. Let us wait a while and leave the insect time to stow its harvest as it pleases.