The Nest-building Odynerus 



game, which is more or less young, more or 

 less plump. 



Whether big or small, all the head of 

 game are absolutely motionless. Armed 

 with a magnifying-glass, I watch in vain for 

 any oscillation of the palpi, any quivering 

 of the tarsi, any pulsation of the abdomen, 

 symptoms of life so frequently observed 

 in the victims of the predatory Wasps. 

 There is nothing, ever. Can the larvae 

 stabbed by the Odynerus be really dead? 

 Can the provisions consist of actual corpses? 

 By no means: their profound inertia does 

 not preclude a remnant of life. The proofs 

 are striking. 



To begin with, inspected cell by cell, my 

 bundle of reeds tells me that the big larvae, 

 those which have acquired their full de- 

 velopment, very often adhere by their 

 hinder part to the walls of the cell. The 

 meaning of this detail is evident. Cap- 

 tured when the metamorphosis was at hand, 

 the grub, despite the blows of the stiletto, 

 has made its usual preparations: it has hung 

 itself firmly to the adjoining support, the 

 earthen partition or the tube of the reed, 

 just as it fastens itself to the poplar-leaf. 

 The creature is so fresh in appearance and 

 its anal adhesion is so accurate that I ac- 

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