98 Transactions of the 



respectful distance. What, then, is to become of oiir poor 

 ant lion ? In its appetite it is a perfect epicure, never, how- 

 ever great may be its hunger, deigning to taste of a carcase 

 unless it has previously had the privilege of killing it, and 

 then extracting only the finer juices. ... It accomplishes 

 by artifice what all its open efforts would have been unequal 

 to. It digs in loose sand a conical pit, in the bottom of 

 which it conceals itself, and there seizes upon the insects 

 which, chancing to stumble over the margin, are precipitated 

 down the sides to the centre. . . . Its first concern is to find 

 a soil of loose, dry sand. . . . Its next step is to trace in the 

 sand a circle. . . . This being done, it proceeds to excavate 

 the cavity by throwing out the sand in a mode not less 

 singular than effective. Placing itself in the inside of the 

 circle, it thrusts the hind part of its body under the sand, 

 and with one of its fore legs, that serves as a shovel, it 

 charges its flat and square head with a load, which it imme- 

 diately throws over the outside of the circle, with a jerk 

 strong enough to carry it to the distance of several inches. 

 Walking backwards, and constantly repeating the process, 

 it soon arrives at the part of the circle from which it set out. 

 It then traces a new one, and by a repetition of these 

 manoeuvres at length arrives at the bottom of its cavity. . . . 

 It will readily occur, however, that to use one leg as a shovel 

 exclusively throughout the whole of such a toilsome opera- 

 tion would be extremely painful and wearisome. For this 

 difiiculty our ingenious pioneer has a resource. After 

 finishing the excavation of owe circular furrow, it traces the 

 next in an opposite direction, and thus alternately exercises 

 each of its legs without tiring either. . . . When all ob- 

 stacles are overcome, and the pit is finished, it presents 

 itself as a conical hole about two inches deep, gradually con- 

 tracting to a point at the bottom, and about three inches 

 wide at the top. The ant lion now takes its station at the 

 bottom of the pit, and that its gruff appearance may not 

 scare the passengers which approach its den, covers itself with 

 sand, all except the points of its expanded forceps. It is not 

 long before an ant on its travels, fearing no haiTu, steps 

 upon the margin of the pit. . . . The faithless sand slides 

 from under its feet — its struggles but hasten its descent, and 

 it is precipitated headlong into the jaws of the concealed 

 devourer. Sometimes, however, it happens that the ant is 

 able to stop itself midway, and with all haste scrambles up 

 again. No sooner does the ant lion perceive this (for, being 

 furnished with six eyes on each side of his head, he is 



