FABRE'S BOOK OF INSECTS 



Among insects the pupa — the transition stage, when 

 the creature is no longer a grub but is not yet a perfect 

 insect — is generally a striking picture of complete weak- 

 ness. A sort of mummy, tightly bound in swaddling- 

 clothes, motionless and unconscious, it awaits its trans- 

 formation. Its tender flesh is hardly solid; its limbs are 

 transparent as crystals, and are held fixed in their place, 

 lest a movement should disturb the work of development. 

 In the same way, to secure his recovery, a patient whose 

 bones are broken is held bound in the surgeon's bandages. 



Well, here, by a strange reversal of the usual state of 

 things, a stupendous task is laid upon the pupa of the 

 Anthrax. It is the pupa that has to toil, to strive, to ex- 

 haust itself in efforts to burst the wall and open the way 

 out. To the pupa falls the desperate duty, to the full- 

 grown insect the joy of resting in the sun. The result of 

 these unusual conditions is that the pupa possesses a 

 strange and complicated set of tools that is in no way 

 suggested by the grub nor recalled by the perfect Fly. 

 This set of tools includes a collection of ploughshares, 

 gimlets, hooks, spears, and other implements that are not 

 found in our trades nor named in our dictionaries. I 

 will do my best to describe the strange gear. 



By the time that July is nearly over the Anthrax has 

 finished eating the Bee-grub. From that time until the 

 following May it lies motionless in the Mason-bee's 

 cocoon, beside the remains of its victim. When the fine 



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