The Life of the Weevil 



comes that of man, calculating how much 

 bacon his harvest will bring him. One 

 regret mingles with the rejoicings, that is to 

 see so many acorns scattered on the ground, 

 pierced, spoilt, good for nothing. Man in- 

 veighs against the author of the damage. 

 To listen to him, you would think that the 

 forest were his alone and that the oaks bore 

 fruit only for his Pig. 



"My friend," I would say to him, "the 

 forest-ranger can't summon the delinquent 

 and this is just as well, for our self-seeking, 

 which is inclined to look upon the acorn-crop 

 only in the light of a string of sausages, 

 would lead to tiresome results. The oak 

 invites the whole world to enjoy its fruits. 

 We take the biggest share, because we are 

 the strongest. That is only our right. . . . 

 But what ranks ever so much higher is a 

 fair division among the various consumers, 

 great and small, all of whom play their part 

 in this world. If it is well that the Black- 

 bird should whistle and gladden the burgeon- 

 ing of the spring, then let us not take it ill 

 that the acorns are rotten. For here the 

 Blackbird's dessert is prepared, the Weevil, 



