MY WOODLAND INTIMATES 



have heard but for his oft-quoted and not over- 

 chivalrous couplet: 



Happy the cicadas' lives, 



Since they all have voiceless wives. 



Was it the presence of a shrew in his own 

 household or the sharp tongue of a neighbor's 

 wife that evoked the cynical exclamation? 



Now and then the song breaks off with a splut- 

 tering, crackling expostulation, which probably 

 represents the cicada's last words ; for the indica- 

 tions are that his enemy has found him and that 

 his singing days are ended. 



I thought it an act of neighborly kindness when 

 I first caught sight of a cicada making its way 

 along through the air with a sand-hornet on its 

 back, but a little observation revealed the fact that 

 the hornet was the transporter and the cicada the 

 transported ; for when the hornet captures a cica- 

 da it is his custom to sting the insect into helpless- 

 ness, in order to carry it to an underground store- 

 house prepared for its reception by the sand-hor- 

 net or " digger-wasp " itself. But the provision- 

 room is intended to serve as a nursery also; as, 

 when the hornet has safely stowed away its vic- 

 tim, it deposits a single egg on the prey and gives 

 [18] 



