The Beaded Trox 



made a mistake. Then what does it want? 



It is under hairy ordure that I find the 

 insect, always there and never any else- 

 where. Rarely does a lump of this rough 

 felt fail to conceal a few of them. Under 

 their tight-fitting wing-cases, they have only 

 quite rudimentary wings, unsuited to flight. 

 These short-legged creatures hasten to the 

 titbit and gather about it on foot. They 

 come from afar, from all points of the com- 

 pass, guided by the scent. Once more, what 

 is the origin of this felt, which has a strong 

 enough stench in the fresh state to attract 

 its consumers from such a distance? 



At last I have my answer. Investigations 

 patiently pursued on the slopes of the hills, 

 above all near the farms, furnish me with a 

 decisive piece of evidence. This is a mass 

 of filth, full of fur and Trox-beetles, like 

 the others, but this time a regular nugget, 

 all glittering with wing-cases of the Golden 

 Carabus. 1 Eureka! Never did Dog, even 

 though starving, feed on Beetles, least of all 

 on acrid Carabi. Only the Fox, in time of 

 dearth, accepts such food, in the absence of 

 anything better. Later on he makes up for 



1 Or True Ground-beetles. Cf. Chapters XIV and XV 

 of the present volume. Translator's Note. 

 63 



