FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



regular, no matter how much the slope may vary — to 

 any rolling process. Indeed I already knew that so 

 large a mess could not have been rolled into a hole that 

 it nearly fills. Besides, the strength of the insect would 

 be unequal to moving so great a load. 



Every time I go to the jar the evidence is the same. 

 I always see the mother Beetle twisted on top of the 

 lump, feeling here and feeling there, giving little taps, 

 and making the thing smooth. Never do I catch her 

 looking as if she wanted to turn the block. It is clear as 

 daylight that rolling has nothing to do with the matter. 



At last it is ready. The baker divides his lump of 

 dough into smaller lumps, each of which will become a 

 loaf. The Copris does the same thing. By making 

 a circular cut with the sharp edge of her forehead, and 

 at the same time using the saw of her fore-legs, she de- 

 taches from the mass a piece of the size she requires. 

 In giving this stroke she has no hesitation: there are 

 no after-touches, adding a bit here and taking off a bit 

 there. Straight away, with one sharp, decisive cut, she 

 obtains the proper-sized lump. 



Next comes the question of shaping it. Clasping it 

 as best she can in her short arms, so little adapted, one 

 would think, for work of this kind, the Copris rounds 

 her lump of food by pressure, and pressure only. Sol- 



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