FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



the others burrow or skulk in some temporary refuge, 

 a refuge obtained free of cost and abandoned without 

 regret. Several of them create marvels with a view to 

 settling their family: cotton satchels, baskets made of 

 leaves, towers of cement. Some live permanently in 

 ambush, lying in wait for their prey. The Tiger-beetle, 

 for instance, digs himself a perpendicular hole, which 

 he stops up with his flat, bronze head. If any other 

 insect steps on this deceptive trap-door it immediately 

 tips up, and the unhappy wayfarer disappears into the 

 gulf. The Ant-lion makes a slanting funnel in the 

 sand. Its victim, the Ant, slides down the slant and 

 is then stoned, from the bottom of the funnel, by the 

 hunter, who turns his neck into a catapult. But these 

 are all temporary refuges or traps. 



The laboriously constructed home, in which the insect 

 settles down with no intention of moving, either in the 

 happy spring or in the woeful winter season; the real 

 manor-house, built for peace and comfort, and not as 

 a hunting-box or a nursery- — this is known to the Cricket 

 alone. On some sunny, grassy slope he is the owner of 

 a hermitage. While all the others lead vagabond lives, 

 sleeping in the open air or under the casual shelter of 

 a dead leaf or a stone, or the pealing bark of an old tree, 

 he is a privileged person with a permanent address. 



The making of a home is a serious problem. It has 



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