The Sacred Beetle: the Ball 



I supply fresh provisions, derived from 

 the Mule or, better, the Sheep. The scent 

 of the heap carries the news far and wide. 

 The Beetles hasten up from every direction, 

 extending and waving the reddish feathers 

 of their antennae, a sign of acute excitement. 

 Those who were dozing underground split 

 the sandy ceiling and sally forth from their 

 cellars. They are now all at the banquet, 

 not without quarrels among neighbours, who 

 fight for the best bits and knock one another 

 over with sudden back-handers from their 

 wide fore-legs. Things calm down; and, 

 without further disputes for the moment, 

 each gets all that he can out of the spot where 

 he happens to be. 



The foundation of the structure is, as a 

 rule, a bit that is almost round of itself. 

 This is the kernel which, enlarged by success- 

 ive layers, will become the ultimate ball, the 

 size of an apricot. Having tested it and 

 found it suitable, the owner leaves it as it is; 

 or, at other times, he may clean it a httle, 

 scraping the outside, which is rough with 

 bits of sand. It is now a question of con- 

 structing the ball upon this foundation. 

 The tools are the six-toothed rake of the 

 semicircular shield and the broad shovels of 

 the fore-legs, which are likewise armed on 

 6i 



