THE LANDING. 245 



I have often heard it at a distance of twenty feet, above 

 the hum and stir of myriads of other insects. It is a 

 sound much like the z-ing of a harvest-fly (cicada), but 

 even more steady, uniform, and unceasing. Not even 

 is the creature quiet when at home. Although the bur- 

 row is often half a metre in depth, still, by placing the 

 ear to the entrance of the retreat, we can hear the omi- 

 nous, angry buzzing, a casting of curses at every living 

 creature that it can by any possibility afflict. Let him 

 who would witness the climax of ill-temper watch for 

 a while a velvet stinging ant, the formidable scarlet 

 Mutilla oceidentalis. 



Had I not seen the Mutilla enter her subterranean 

 abode, I should never have suspected that here, in the 

 clean, closely shorn sod was the entrance to a consider- 

 able excavation. Not a trace of her tunnelling was now 

 visible except the clean circular opening in the ground. 

 Had there ever been ? If so, what had become of the 

 earth removed by this insect ? The same may be asked 

 of many another animal earth retreat. 



It is presumed that whenever a mammal burrows into 

 the ground, the earth removed is brought to the surface 

 and scattered about the entrance, and there it remains 

 until slowly removed by the rain, or blown away by 

 some high wind, or, if not thus scattered abroad, that 

 the grass springs up through it, and so effectually con- 

 ceals all trace of it. Is all this presumption true ? As 

 a matter of fact, does every burrowing animal bring to 

 the surface all the earth it displaces in making its bur- 

 row? 



My attention having been called to this subject early 



