To satisfy these, the insect has been equally well-inspired. The neck of the calabash is pierced, in the direction of its axis, with a tiny channel which would admit at most the thinnest of straws. Inside, this conduit opens at the top of the dome of the hatching-chamber; outside, at the tip of the nipple, it spreads into a wide mouth-piece. This is the ventilating-shaft, protected against intruders by its extreme narrowness and by grains of dust which obstruct it a little, without stopping it up. It is simply marvellous, I said. Was I wrong? If a construction of this sort is a fortuitous result, we must admit that blind chance is gifted with extraordinary foresight. How does the awkward insect manage to carry so delicate and complex a piece of building through? Exploring the pampas as I do through the eyes of an intermediary, my only guide in this question is the structure of the work, a structure whence we can deduct the workman’s methods without going far wrong. I therefore imagine the labour to proceed like this: a small carcass is found, the oozing of which has softened the underlying loam. The insect collects more or less of this loam, according to the richness of the vein. There are no precise limits here. If the plastic material abound, the collector is lavish with it and the provision-box becomes all the more solid. Then enormous calabashes are obtained, exceeding a hen’s egg in volume and formed of an outer wall a couple of centimetres thick. [22] But a mass of this description is beyond the strength of the modeller, is badly handled and betrays, in its outline, the clumsiness of an over-difficult task. If the material be rare, the insect confines its harvesting to what is strictly necessary; and then, freer in its movements, it obtains a magnificently regular gourd. The loam is probably first kneaded into a ball and then scooped out into a large and very thick cup, by means of the pressure of the fore-legs and the work of the shield. Even thus do the Copris and the Sacred Beetle act when preparing, on the top of their round ball, the bowl in which the egg will be laid before the final manipulation of the ovoid or pear. In this first business, Phanæus is simply a potter. So long as it be plastic, any clay serves his turn, however meagrely it be saturated with the juices emanating from the carcass.