INSTINCT IN INSECTS. i 9 



Huber did not clearly draw the distinction, nor could he do so in his 

 time, between that which is instinct and that which is the share of in- 

 telligence in those acts which he witnessed. It is clear that these two 

 orders of faculties are constantly combined. It is by reason of their 

 perfection in instinct that intelligence appears so clearly in these little 

 beings. The construction of the ant-hill is an act of instinct : the 

 choice and distribution of its materials partake of intelligence. A 

 thousand traits reveal the thought which perceives, deliberates, wills, 

 executes. We may cite the observed fact of a crowd of ants dragging 

 with great effort a beetle's wing toward their hole. The opening is 

 too small, the wing will not go in. The workers drop it a moment, 

 tear down a piece of the wall, and renew their attempt. Some push 

 it from outside, others drag it from within. Fruitless effort ! The su- 

 perb spoil, which will make an entire ceiling, will not pass yet ; they 

 drop it once more ; the breach is widened, and the wing at last is 

 swallowed up in the cavern, where perhaps ten partitions must be torn 

 down to carry it to the proper place. The wing once got in, they re- 

 build the wall, and restore its former dimensions to the entrance. We 

 cannot cite, in the case of monkeys watched in captivity in menageries, 

 a single instance so clearly showing deliberation and common judg- 

 ment. 



The social phenomena presented by the higher animals are unfor- 

 tunately very little known. We know scarcely any thing of what goes 

 on in a habitation of beavers ; we know nothing of the habits of the 

 republican sparrow, which builds a city for its nest ; the insect com- 

 munities are the most perfect ones that have been studied hitherto. So 

 soon as a society exists, there are understanding and concurrence of all 

 at every moment to reach a definite object. No zoologist now doubts 

 that insects of the same species may communicate with each other, 

 under certain circumstances, by a language of which the methods elude 

 us. Blanchard says of the ant : " It has its ideas, and communicates 

 them ; " but a singular detail of the history of the sacred scarabee 

 shows this still more clearly. The female, as we know, wraps up her 

 newly-laid egg in a ball of manure, the nourishment for the coming 

 grub. The point now is to transport the ball into a suitable place, 

 where it may be buried. The insect rolls along, with its hind-claws, 

 or, if necessary, hoists with its head, this little world, in which the 

 Egyptians found an emblem for their myths. Sometimes the journey 

 is pretty long ; the ball, lifted to the ridge of a mole-hill, rolls down 

 the other side, and so much is gained. But, if a rut or a crevice is 

 encountered, the precious globe drops to the bottom, and would be 

 hopelessly lost if the scarabee had only its own strength to depend on 

 for mounting that steep wall. It struggles in vain, and begins again 

 twenty times over ; at last it seems to desert its load, and flies off. 

 Wait and watch ; after a little while you will see the insect coming 

 back, but not alone now. It is followed by two, three, four, five com- 



