THE ANT AND THE CRICKET. 143 



The Ant and the Cricket. 



BY EDWARD J. BURNHA.M. 



One day in August the Boy and I were watching a beau- 

 tiful striped caterpillar, as it munched away upon a leaf of 

 a scrub oak at the edge of the woods in which we had 

 our camp. The leaf and the caterpillar were scarcely more 

 than a foot from the ground, which in that place was cov- 

 ered by a growth of tall, thin grass, for it was in an old 

 and unoccupied pasture. 



As we knelt to obser\'e more closely the process of snip- 

 ping the bits of leaf, we saw an ant seize a cricket in the 

 grass on the ground beneath. The ant was one of the kind 

 common in pastures in New England, having a black body 

 and reddish or orange head and shoulders. The cricket 

 was the familiar small, black field cricket, evidently a fe- 

 male, as shown by the long ovipositor. Although a amall 

 creature, it was many times larger and heavier than the 

 ant which seized upon it. 



The cricket struggled desperately for a moment and then 

 apparently lesigned itself to its fate, although it was doubt- 

 less only awaiting an opportunity to take a strong leap 

 with its long hind legs. The opportunity, however, never 

 came. 



The ant stood still for some time, evidently sinking one 

 mandible deeper and deeper between the hard plates of the 

 thorax, and thus securing a firm hold upon its victim. Then 

 the homeward journey was begun — one of the most inter- 

 esting, if not one of the most exciting, journeys that we ev- 

 er followed. The grass, of the kind known to the farmer as 

 "white top," was thin in the poor soil of the worn-out and 

 neglected pastures, but the stalks were nevertheless near 



