More Beetles 



On the 2nd of June, the total number of 

 pellets carried down amounts to 225. It is 

 a splendid hoard. Shortly after, the father 

 dies of old age. I find him near the mouth 

 of the burrow, convulsively clutching his last 

 pellet which he had not had time to carry 

 down. The malady of age has surprised 

 him in the midst of his labours, has struck 

 him down on the harvest-field. 



The widow continues her domestic work. 

 To the riches amassed by the deceased, she 

 adds, by her own activity, in the course of 

 the month, thirty more pellets, making in all, 

 since the foundation of the household, 255. 

 Then comes the great heat, which favours 

 idleness and slumber. The mother does not 

 show herself any longer. 



What does she do down below, in her cool 

 cellar? Like the Copris mother apparently, 

 she looks after her brood, going from cell to 

 cell, sounding the cakes, investigating what 

 is happening inside. It would be an act of 

 barbarism to disturb her. We will wait till 

 she comes out, accompanied by her offspring. 



Let us profit by this long interval of rest 



to set forth the little that I have gathered 



from my attempts at rearing the Minotaur in 



a glass tube on the regulation diet. The 



144 



