The Life of the Fly; With Which are Interspersed Some Chapters of AutobiographyFabre, Jean-Henri
Science
The Life of the Fly; With Which are Interspersed Some Chapters of Autobiography
Fabre, Jean-Henri
Diptera; Flies
Here is some further evidence: the grub has plunged, head downwards,
into an empty cell, which is too small to contain the whole of it.
Its hindquarters stick out, very visibly. For long hours, it remains
motionless in this position. At every moment, wasps pass and repass
close by. Three of them, at one time together, at another separately,
come and nibble at the edges of the cell; they break off particles which
they reduce to paste for a new piece of work. The passers by, intent
upon their business, may not perceive the intruder; but these three
certainly do. During their work of demolition, they touch the grub with
their legs, their antennae, their palpi; and yet none of them minds it.
The fat grub, so easily recognized by its queer figure, is left alone;
and this in broad daylight, where everybody can see it. What must it be
when the profound darkness of the burrows protects the visitor with its
mysteries!
I have been experimenting all along with big Volucella grubs, colored
with the dirty red which comes with age. What effect will pure white
produce? I sprinkle on the surface of the combs some larvae that have
lately left the egg. The tiny, snow-white grubs make for the nearest
cells, go down into them, come out again and hunt elsewhere. The
wasps peaceably let them go their way, as heedless of the little white
invaders as of the big red ones. Sometimes, when it enters an occupied
cell, the little creature is seized by the owner, the wasp grub, which
nabs it and turns and returns it between its mandibles. Is this a
defensive bite? No, the wasp grub has merely blundered, taking its
visitor for a proffered mouthful. There is no great harm done. Thanks
to its suppleness, the little grub emerges from the grip intact and
continues its investigations.
It might occur to us to attribute this tolerance to some lack of
penetration in the wasps' vision. What follows will undeceive us: I
place separately, in empty cells, a grub of Saperda scalaria and a
Volucella grub, both of them white and selected so as not to fill the
cell entirely. Their presence is revealed only by the paleness of
the hind part which serves as a plug to the opening. A superficial
examination would leave the nature of the recluse undecided. The wasps
make no mistake: they extirpate the Saperda grub, kill it, fling it on
the dust heap; they leave the Volucella grub in peace.
The two strangers are quite well recognized in the secrecy of the cells:
one is the intruder that must be turned out; the other is the regular
visitor that must be respected. Sight helps, for things take place in
the daylight, under glass; but the wasps have other means of information
in the dimness of the burrow. When I produce darkness by covering the
apparatus with a screen, the murder of the trespassers is accomplished
just the same. For so say the police regulations of the wasps' nest: any
stranger discovered must be slain and thrown on the midden.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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