More Beetles 



I do not abandon this idea of mine. If 

 the mother did not come out with the young- 

 sters, there must have been — and in fact 

 there were, as we shall see — important rea- 

 sons for it. Right at the bottom of the 

 column of sand, in the part which is coolest 

 thanks to the large, frequently watered 

 flower-pot, are eight sausages, eight portions 

 of preserved food admirably worked into a 

 fine paste. These are grouped in different 

 stories, close together and each communica- 

 ting with the main corridor by a short pas- 

 sage. Since each of these sausages was a 

 ration, the brood amounts to eight. This 

 restricted family was anticipated. When 

 rearing becomes a costly matter, the mothers 

 wisely limit their fecundity. 



But here is an unexpected state of affairs: 

 the food-cylinders contain no adult, not even 

 a nymph; they have nothing but grubs in 

 them, though these are glossy with health 

 and almost fat enough to clamour for nym- 

 phosis. This check in their development 

 arouses surprise, at a time when the new 

 generation is full-grown, leaves the native 

 homestead and is beginning to dig the win- 

 ter burrows. The Minotaur mother's sur- 

 prise must have exceeded my own. Weary 

 ISO 



