ii6 The Life of the Spider 



Let us now see what we can do with younger 

 Lycosae, who are at the burxowing-stage. I 

 dig out five or six at the end of February. 

 They are half the size of the old ones ; their 

 burrows are equal in diameter to my little 

 finger. Rubbish quite fresh-spread around the 

 pit bears witness to the recent date of the 

 excavations. 



Relegated to their wire cages, these young 

 Lycosae behave differently according as the soil 

 placed at their disposal is or is not already 

 provided with a burrow made by me. A burrow 

 is hardly the word : I give them but the nucleus 

 of a shaft, about an inch deep, to lure them on. 

 When in possession of this rudimentary lair, 

 the Spider does not hesitate to pursue the work 

 which I have interrupted in the fields. At 

 night, she digs with a will. I can see this by 

 the heap of rubbish flung aside. She at last 

 obtains a house to suit her, a house surmounted 

 by the usual turret. 



The others, on the contrary, those Spiders 

 for whom the thrust of my pencil has not 

 contrived an entrance-hall representing, to a 

 certain extent, the natural gallery whence I 



