More Beetles 



and often makes us wait in vain. Chance 

 favours us. Here is a Metallic Cetonia 

 dropping in from some neighbouring spot. 

 In wide circles she flies once or twice over 

 the heap; she inspects the lie of the land 

 from above and selects a point easy of ac- 

 cess. Whoosh! She pounces upon it, digs 

 with her head and legs and forthwith makes 

 her way in. Which way will she go? 



At first the sense of hearing tells us of the 

 direction followed: we hear a rustling of 

 withered leaves as long as the insect is work- 

 ing through the dry outer layer. Then 

 nothing but silence: the Cetonia has reached 

 the moist centre of the heap. Here and 

 here only must the laying take place, so that 

 the grub emerging from the egg may find 

 soft food at hand without seeking for it. 

 Let us leave the mother to her task and re- 

 turn a couple of hours later. 



But first let us reflect upon what has just 

 occurred. A magnificent insect, a living gem 

 of goldsmith's work, was slumbering just 

 now at the heart of a rose, on the satin of its 

 petals, in the sweetness of its scent. And 

 now this voluptuary in her golden tunic, this 

 sipper of ambrosia, suddenly leaves her 

 flower and buries herself in corruption; she 

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