The Bluebottle: The Laying 



where she brushes her hind-legs one against 

 the other. In particular, before using it again, 

 she cleans, smoothes and polishes her laying- 

 tool, the probe that places the eggs. Then, 

 feeling her womb still teeming, she returns to 

 the same spot at the joint of the beak. The 

 delivery is resumed, to cease presently and 

 then begin anew. A couple of hours are thus 

 spent in alternate standing near the eye and 

 resting on the wire-gauze. 



At last, it is over. The Fly does not go 

 back to the bird, a proof that her ovaries are 

 exhausted. The next day, she is dead. The 

 eggs are dabbed in a continuous layer, at the 

 entrance to the throat, at the root of the 

 tongue, on the membrane of the palate. Their 

 number appears considerable; the whole inside 

 of the gu)let is white with them. I fix a little 

 wooden prop between the two mandibles of 

 the beak, to keep them open and enable me to 

 see what happens. 



I learn in this way that the hatching takes 

 place in a couple of days. As soon as they are 

 born, the young vermin, a swarming mass, 

 leave the place where they are and disappear 

 down the throat. To enquire further into the 

 work is useless for the moment. We shall 



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