The Life of the Caterpillar 



of his burrow, a few Sheep-droppings, ancient, 

 olive-shaped remains dried by the summer 

 sun. He heaps them in a stack at the bottom 

 of his larder, shuts the door and eats. When 

 the provisions are all crumbed and drained 

 of their niggardly juices, he climbs back to 

 the surface and renews his stores. Thus does 

 he spend the winter, never resting from his 

 work, except when the weather is too severe. 



The second object of my observations in 

 the pine-wood is the Bolboceras. His bur- 

 rows, distributed here and there, among those 

 of the Minotaur, are easily distinguished. 

 The Phalangist's are surmounted by a bulky 

 mound the materials of which are heaped into 

 a cylinder as long as one's finger. Each of 

 these rolls is a load of rubbish pushed outside 

 by the digger, thrusting with his back from 

 below. The orifice moreover is closed when- 

 ever the Beetle is at home, either enlarging 

 the shaft or peacefully enjoying his possess- 

 ions. 



The Bolboceras' lodging is open and sur- 

 rounded merely by a padding of sand. Its 

 depth is slight, nine inches, hardly more. It 

 goes straight down in very loose soil. It is 

 easily inspected, therefore, if we take care first 

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