INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE 



should try to move the body of an elephant. The little 

 wasp clasped one of the spider's legs firmly in her man- 

 dibles, and then with braced feet and the wildest flutter 

 of wings made gallant but futile attempts to get it 

 started. Now she lost her hold on the ground, and wings 

 and legs were all whirling desperately in the air. Now 

 her feet grasped a loose ball of earth, and, feeling that 

 something was moving, she renewed her efforts. The 

 pellet was drawn nearer and began to rotate around 

 the wasp, while she seemed to be under the impression 

 that she was moving forward. After a few minutes of 

 vigorous exercise, she paused, perhaps to see how she 

 was getting on, and the bit of earth rolled away; so 

 that when the attack was renewed, it was under the old 

 discouraging conditions. She was the impersonation of 

 perseverance and energy; but after half an hour (no 

 one knows how long she had been at it before we came) 

 she gave it up, and with many reluctant circlings flew 

 away. It was probably experiences of this kind that 

 developed in some of her relatives the habit of digging 

 the grave under the victim, and thus saving the trouble 

 of transportation. 



At another time, we saw a biguttatus trying to run 

 backward with a little bit of a spider, which she had 

 lifted from the ground and was carrying in her man 



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