The Mason-bees 



I choose a clearing in the middle of the copses. 

 All around is a great expanse of dense woods, 

 shutting out the horizon on every side; on 

 the south, in the direction of the nests, a cur- 

 tain of hills rises to a height of some three 

 hundred feet above the spot at which I stand. 

 The wind is not strong, but it is blowing in 

 the opposite direction to that which my in- 

 sects will have to take in order to reach their 

 home. I turn my back on Serignan, so that, 

 when leaving my fingers, the Bees, to return to 

 the nest, will be obliged to fly sideways, to 

 right and left of me; I mark the insects and 

 release them one by one. I begin operations 

 at twenty minutes past ten. 



One-half of the Bees seem rather indolent, 

 flutter about for a while, drop to the ground, 

 appear to recover their spirits and then start 

 off. The other half show greater decision. 

 Although the insects have to fight against the 

 soft wind that is blowing from the south, they 

 make straight for the nest. All go south, 

 after describing a few circles, a few loops 

 around us. There is no exception in the case 

 of any of those whose departure we are able 

 to follow. The fact is noted by myself and 

 my colleague beyond dispute or doubt. My 

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