AMMOPHILA AND HER CATERPILLARS 



matter as she is herself. She picks up the caterpillar, 

 brings it to the mouth of the burrow, and lays it down. 

 Then, backing in herself, she catches it in her mandi- 

 bles and drags it out of sight, leaving us full of admira- 

 tion and delight. 



How clear and accurate must be the observing powers 

 of these wonderful little creatures ! Every patch of ground 

 must, for them, have its own character ; a pebble here, 

 a larger stone there, a trifling tuft of grass — these must 

 be their landmarks. And the wonder of it is that their 

 interest in each nest is so temporary. A burrow is dug, 

 provisioned and closed up, all in two or three days, and 

 then another is made in a new place with everything to 

 learn over again. 



From this time on to the first of September our garden 

 was full of these wasps, and they never lost their fasci- 

 nation for us; although, owing to a decided difference be- 

 tween their taste and ours as to what constituted pleasant 

 weather, all our knowledge of them was gained by the 

 sweat of our brows. When we wished to utilize the cool 

 hours of the morning or of the late afternoon in studying 

 them, or thought to take advantage of a cloud which cast 

 a grateful shade over the sun at noonday, where were 

 our Ammophiles ? Out of sight entirely, or at best only 

 to be seen idhng about on the flowers of the onion or 



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