VI THE YELLOW-WINGED SPHEX 8i 



tears open the cocoon which until then has pro- 

 tected it, and flies away from its subterranean 

 cradle. During the whole of August one constantly 

 sees it seeking drops of honey on the spiny heads 

 of Eryngium campestre, the commonest of such 

 robust plants as brave the dog days. But this 

 careless life is brief, for in the earliest days of 

 September the Sphex has begun the hard existence 

 of miner and hunter. It is usually on some small 

 flat spot on banks along a road that the dwelling is 

 established, only there must be two indispensable 

 conditions — a sandy soil easy to work, and sun. 

 Beyond this no precaution is taken to shelter the 

 domicile against autumn rain and winter frost. A 

 horizontal position, unsheltered, beaten by rain and 

 wind, suit the Sphex perfectly, so long as it is 

 exposed to the sun. But when the work is half- 

 way through, if heavy rain should come, it is sad to 

 see next day galleries in course of construction 

 choked with sand and finally abandoned. 



Rarely does the Sphex work in solitude ; it is in 

 small bands of ten, twenty, or more excavators that 

 the claim selected is worked. One must have spent 

 some days watching one of these colonies in order to 

 form any idea of the restless activity, the feverish 

 haste, the abrupt movements, of these hard-working 

 miners. They rapidly attack the ground with the 

 rakes of their forefeet, canis instar, as Linnaeus 

 says. A puppy does not show more energy in 

 scratching up the ground in play. At the same 

 time each labourer hums a joyous song — shrill, high- 

 pitched, interrupted at short intervals, and modu- 

 lated by vibrations of wings and thorax. One 



G 



