The Hunting Wasps 



Sphex goes back to her capture, harnesses 

 herself to the antennae and boldly passes un- 

 der the blade of grass whereon the other sits 

 perched. By the direction of her head we 

 can see that she is on her guard and that she 

 holds the enemy rooted, motionless, under 

 the menace of her eyes. Her courage meets 

 with the reward which it deserves: the prey 

 is stored away without further mishap. 



A word more on the Praying Mantis, or, 

 as they say in Provence, lou Prego Dieou, the 

 Pray-to-God. Her long, pale-green wings, 

 like spreading veils, her head raised heaven- 

 wards, her folded arms, crossed upon her 

 breast, are in fact a sort of travesty of a nun 

 in ecstasy. And yet she is a ferocious crea- 

 ture, loving carnage. Though not her fa- 

 vourite spots, the work-yards of the various 

 Digger-wasps receive her visits pretty fre- 

 quently. Posted near the burrows, on some 

 bramble or other, she waits for chance to 

 bring within her reach some of the arrivals, 

 forming a double capture for her, as she 

 seizes both the huntress and her prey. Her 

 patience is long put to the test: the Wasp 

 suspects something and is on her guard; still, 

 from time to time, a rash one gets caught. 

 With a sudden rustle of wings half-unfurled 

 190 



