A BEE-HUNTER 165 



The first care of the mothers is the welfare of the 

 family. So far all we know of the Philanthus concerns 

 her talent for murder. Let us consider her as a mother. 

 We have seen her hunt on her own account ; let us 

 now watch her hunt for her offspring, for the race. 

 Nothing is simpler than to distinguish between the two 

 kinds of hunting. When the insect wants a few good 

 mouthfuls of honey and nothing else, she abandons the 

 bee contemptuously when she has emptied its stomach. 

 It is so much valueless waste, which will shrivel where 

 it lies and be dissected by ants. If, on the other hand, 

 she intends to place it in the larder as a provision for her 

 larvae, she clasps it with her two intermediate legs, and, 

 walking on the other four, drags it to and fro along the 

 edge of the bell-glass in search of an exit so that she may 

 fly off with her prey. Having recognised the circular 

 wall as impassable, she climbs its sides, now holding 

 the bee in her mandibles by the antennae, clinging as she 

 climbs to the vertical polished surface with all six feet. 

 She gains the summit of the glass, stays for a little while 

 in the flask-like cavity of the terminal button or handle, 

 returns to the ground, and resumes her circuit of the 

 glass and her climbing, relinquishing the bee only after 

 an obstinate attempt to escape with it. The persistence 

 with which the Philanthus retains her clasp upon the 

 encumbering burden shows plainly that the game would 

 go straight to the larder were the insect at liberty. 



Those bees intended for the larvae are stung under the 

 chin like the others ; they are true corpses ; they are 

 manipulated, squeezed, exhausted of their honey, just as 

 the others. There is no difference in the method of 

 capture nor in their after-treatment. 



