The Life of the Grasshopper 



prised I know not how of the quarry, here 

 he comes, picking up one by one, with the tip 

 of his slender tongue, the stray insects that 

 have escaped the Ants. They make a small 

 mouthful but an exquisite one, so it seems, 

 to judge by the blinking of the reptile's eye. 

 For each little wretch gulped down, its lid 

 half-closes, a sign of profound satisfaction. 

 I drive away the bold Lizard who ventures 

 to perpetrate his raid before my eyes. He 

 comes back again and, this time, pays dearly 

 for his rashness. If I let him have his way, 

 I should have nothing left. 



Is this all? Not yet. Another ravager, 

 the smallest of all but not the least formida- 

 ble, has anticipated the Lizard and the Ant. 

 This is a very tiny Hymenopteron armed 

 with a probe, a Chalcis, who establishes her 

 eggs in the newly-built nest. The Mantis' 

 brood shares the fate of the Cicada's: 

 parasitic vermin attack the eggs and empty 

 the shells. Out of all that I have collected I 

 often obtain nothing or hardly anything. 

 The Chalcis has been that way. 



Let us gather up what the various ex- 

 terminators, known or unknown, have left 

 me. When newly hatched, the larva is of a 

 pale hue, white faintly tinged with yellow. 

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