THE BLUEBOTTLE 105 



The insect becomes aware of what is under the feathers 

 by the manner in which these react. If scent lends its 

 assistance, it can only be very slightly, for the game 

 is not yet high. The wound is soon found. No drop 

 of blood is near it, for it is closed by a plug of down 

 rammed into it by the shot. The Fly takes up her posi- 

 tion without separating the feathers or uncovering the 

 wound. She remains here for two hours without stir- 

 ring, motionless, with her abdomen concealed beneath 

 the plumage. My eager curiosity does not distract her 

 from her business for a moment. 



When she has finished, I take her place. There is 

 nothing either on the skin or at the mouth of the wound. 

 I have to withdraw the downy plug and dig to some depth 

 before discovering the eggs. The ovipositor has there- 

 fore lengthened its extensible tube and pushed beyond 

 the feather stopper driven in by the lead. The eggs are 

 in one packet ; they number about three hundred. 



When the beak and eyes are rendered inaccessible, 

 when the body, moreover, has no wounds, the laying 

 still takes place, but this time in a hesitating and niggardly 

 fashion. I pluck the bird completely, the better to watch 

 what happens ; also, I cover the head with a paper hood 

 to close the usual means of access. For a long time, with 

 jerky steps, the mother explores the body in every direc- 

 tion; she takes her stand by preference on the head, 

 which she sounds by tapping on it with her front tarsi. 

 She knows that the openings which she needs are there, 

 under the paper; but she also knows how frail are her 

 grubs, how powerless to pierce their way through the 



