The Hunting Wasps 



which she had lifted. She ran hurriedly 

 this way and that around the thyme, inspect- 

 ing every crevice that could give access to 

 what lay below. She was not digging her- 

 self a home but hunting some game hidden 

 underground; this was evident from her be- 

 haviour, which resembled that of a Dog 

 trying to dig a Rabbit out of his hole. Pre- 

 sently, excited by what was happening over- 

 head and close-pressed by the Ammophila, 

 a big Grey Worm made up his mind to leave 

 his lair and come up to the light of day. 

 That settled him: the huntress was on the 

 spot at once, gripping him by the skin of his 

 neck and holding tight in spite of his con- 

 tortions. Perched on the monster's back, 

 the Wasp bent her abdomen and deliberately, 

 without hurrying, like a surgeon thoroughly 

 acquainted with his patient's anatomy, drove 

 her lancet into the ventral surface of each 

 of the victim's segments, from the first to the 

 last. Not a ring was left without receiv- 

 ing a stab; all, whether with legs or without, 

 were dealt with in order, from front to back. 

 That is what I saw with all the leisure and 

 ease that an observation needs in order to 

 be above reproach. The Wasp acts with a 

 precision that would make science turn green 

 270 



