THE INSECT WORLD AT CLOSE RANGE 25 



ingless strokes; dabs of color placed together like the patches of a 

 crazy quilt. So we may liken this new, or insect world, to these 

 strokes and dabs that collectively make the painting. In a word the 

 new world consists of the particles that, heaped together, compose the 

 mountain, the valley and the desert of our own. 



When we were coaxed from our study by the excitement of dis- 

 covery, we stepped across the lawn into a field of waving hay. It 

 was bordered with a heavy growth of weeds and other vegetation. 

 Stopping to analyze, we found a jungle of the insect world. At the 

 other end of the field the farmers were already swinging their 

 scythes thus the jungle vanished in a day. 



We journeyed on to another field, so recently turned over by the 

 plough that vegetation had only appeared at intervals. There were 

 three hundred furrows, mountain ranges to an insect. There were 

 stones bearing plough wounds, a few drassid spiders under them and 

 here and there a fat white grub rolling helplessly about. 



Next we passed through a patch of asparagus with its rounded fruit. 

 Beyond this a clear little puddle was sighted over which dragon 

 flies hovered, occasionally swooping down upon smaller insects. The 

 far bank of the puddle was composed of sand and stones heaped to- 

 gether like conglomerate, but in front was a muddy flat upon which 

 some frightened creature had dropped its animal prey. 



In the flesh of this unfortunate we found a swarm of maggots, 

 young flies whose duty it is to liquefy such objects and return death to 

 life. Beneath the carrion a rove beetle lay in wait for unwary mother 

 flies who came to lay their eggs in the game. 



Leaving the pond for pastures new, we crossed a sandy field. Here 

 several ant lions had made their pitfalls to entrap blundering ants, in 

 whose formic acid they find nourishment and a pleasing flavor. 



And so we might travel on and on, endlessly were it not for winter. 

 Frosts are messengers of death in the insect world. Each drop of 



