The Elephant Weevil 



while the branches are being lashed and 

 shaken by the mistral. I break off the twig 

 and lay it gently on the ground. The insect 

 takes no notice of its removal and goes on 

 with its job. I squat down beside it, shel- 

 tered from the gale behind a clump of brush- 

 wood, and watch operations. 



Shod with clinging sandals which will 

 enable her later, in my cages, to scale a 

 perpendicular pane of glass, the Weevil is 

 firmly fixed on the smooth and sloping curve 

 of the acorn. She is working her drill. 

 Slowly and awkwardly she moves around her 

 implanted rod, describes a semicircle whose 

 centre is the perforated point and then, 

 retracing her steps, describes the semicircle in 

 the reverse direction. And this is repeated 

 several times over. We do the same when, 

 by an alternating movement of the wrist, 

 we make a hole in a piece of wood with a 

 bradawl. 



Little by little, the rostrum enters. In 

 an hour's time, it has disappeared entirely. 

 A brief rest follows. Then at last the 

 instrument is withdrawn. What will hap- 

 pen next? Nothing more, this time. The 

 91 



