FABKE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



in his stack. My tastes bring a smile to his lips; he 

 wonders by what whimsy I prefer wood that is worm- 

 eaten to sound wood, which burns so much better. I 

 liave my views on the subject, and the wortliy man 

 submits to them. 



A fine oak-trunk, seamed with scars and gashed with 

 wounds, contains many treasures for my studies. The 

 mallet drives home, the wedges bite, the wood splits; 

 and within, in the dry and hollow parts, are revealed 

 groups of various insects who are capable of living 

 through the cold season, and have here taken up their 

 winter quarters. In the low-roofed galleries built by 

 some Beetle the Osmia Bee has piled her cells one above 

 the other. In the deserted chambers and vestibules 

 Megachiles have arranged their leafy jars. In the live 

 wood, filled with juicy sap, the larva of the Capricorn, 

 the chief author of the oak's undoing, has set up its home. 

 Truly they are strange creatures, these grubs: bits of 

 intestines crawling about! In the middle of Autumn 

 I find them of two different ages. The older are almost 

 as thick as one's finger; the others hardly attain the 

 diameter of a pencil. I find, in addition, the pupa or 

 nymph more or less fully coloured, and the perfect insect 

 ready to leave the trunk when the hot weather comes 

 again. Life inside the wood, therefore, lasts for three 

 years. 

 How is this longperiod of solitude and captivity spent? 



[210] 



