The Wonders of Instinct: Chapters in the Psychology of InsectsFabre, Jean-Henri
Science
The Wonders of Instinct: Chapters in the Psychology of Insects
Fabre, Jean-Henri
Insects; Instinct
This presumes, it is true, an exemplary patience on the Lycosa's part;
for the burrow has naught that can serve to entice victims. At best,
the ledge provided by the turret may, at rare intervals, tempt some
weary wayfarer to use it as a resting-place. But, if the quarry do not
come to-day, it is sure to come to-morrow, the next day, or later, for
the Locusts hop innumerable in the waste-land, nor are they always able
to regulate their leaps. Some day or other, chance is bound to bring
one of them within the purlieus of the burrow. This is the moment to
spring upon the pilgrim from the ramparts. Until then, we maintain a
stoical vigilance. We shall dine when we can; but we shall end by
dining.
The Lycosa, therefore, well aware of these lingering eventualities,
waits and is not unduly distressed by a prolonged abstinence. She has
an accommodating stomach, which is satisfied to be gorged to-day and to
remain empty afterwards for goodness knows how long. I have sometimes
neglected my catering duties for weeks at a time; and my boarders have
been none the worse for it. After a more or less protracted fast, they
do not pine away, but are smitten with a wolf-like hunger. All these
ravenous eaters are alike: they guzzle to excess to-day, in
anticipation of to-morrow's dearth.
THE LAYING.
Chance, a poor stand-by, sometimes contrives very well. At the
beginning of the month of August, the children call me to the far side
of the enclosure, rejoicing in a find which they have made under the
rosemary-bushes. It is a magnificent Lycosa, with an enormous belly,
the sign of an impending delivery.
Early one morning, ten days later, I find her preparing for her
confinement. A silk network is first spun on the ground, covering an
extent about equal to the palm of one's hand. It is coarse and
shapeless, but firmly fixed. This is the floor on which the Spider
means to operate.
On this foundation, which acts as a protection from the sand, the
Lycosa fashions a round mat, the size of a two-franc piece and made of
superb white silk. With a gentle, uniform movement, which might be
regulated by the wheels of a delicate piece of clockwork, the tip of
the abdomen rises and falls, each time touching the supporting base a
little farther away, until the extreme scope of the mechanism is
attained.
Then, without the Spider's moving her position, the oscillation is
resumed in the opposite direction. By means of this alternate motion,
interspersed with numerous contacts, a segment of the sheet is
obtained, of a very accurate texture. When this is done, the Spider
moves a little along a circular line and the loom works in the same
manner on another segment.
The silk disk, a sort of hardy concave paten, now no longer receives
anything from the spinnerets in its centre; the marginal belt alone
increases in thickness. The piece thus becomes a bowl-shaped porringer,
surrounded by a wide, flat edge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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