The Cricket: the Burrow 



cement. Some carnivorous larvae dwell in 

 permanent ambuscades, where they lie in wait 

 for their prey. The Tiger-beetle, among 

 others, digs itself a perpendicular hole, 

 which it closes with its flat, bronze head. 

 Whoever ventures on the insidious foot- 

 bridge vanishes down the gulf, whose trap- 

 door at once tips up and disappears beneath 

 the feet of the wayfarer. The Ant-lion 

 makes a funnel in the sand. The Ant slides 

 down its very loose slope and is bombarded 

 with projectiles hurled from the bottom of 

 the crater by the hunter, who turns his neck 

 into a catapult. But these are all temporary 

 refuges, nests or traps. 



The laboriously constructed residence, in 

 which the insect settles down with no inten- 

 tion of moving, either in the happy spring or 

 the woful winter season; the real manor, 

 built for peace and comfort and not as a 

 hunting-box or a nursery: this is known 

 to the Cricket alone. On some sunny, grassy 

 slope he is the owner of a hermitage. 

 While all the others lead vagabond lives, 

 sleeping in the open air or under the casual 

 shelter of a dead leaf, a stone, or the peeling 

 bark of an old tree, he is a privileged person 

 with a permanent address. 

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