The Ignorance of Instinct 



Having done this and put the stolen prey 

 safely away in a box, I yield my place to the 

 Sphex, who has been on the watch beside me 

 while I was rifling her home. Finding the 

 door open, she goes in and stays for a few 

 moments. Then she comes out and resumes 

 her work where I interrupted it, that is to 

 say, she starts conscientiously stopping the 

 entrance to the cell by sweeping dust back- 

 wards and carrying grains of sand, which she 

 continues to heap up with scrupulous care, as 

 though she were doing useful work. When 

 the door is once again thoroughly walled up, 

 the insect brushes itself, seems to give a 

 glance of satisfaction at the task accomplished 

 and finally flies away. 



The Sphex must have known that the bur- 

 row contained nothing, because she went in- 

 side and even stayed there for some time; 

 and yet, after this inspection of the pillaged 

 abode, she once more proceeds to close up 

 the cell with the same care as though nothing 

 out of the way had happened. Can she be 

 proposing to use this burrow later, to return 

 to it with a fresh victim and lay a new egg 

 there? If so, her work of closing would be 

 intended to prevent the access of intruders to 

 the dwelling during her absence; it would be 

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