The Hunting Wasps 



tion, any signs whatever of maternal joy? 

 If you think so, you need only repeat my ex- 

 periments to persuade yourself to the con- 

 trary. The Bembex does not recognize her 

 larva at all; it is to her a worthless thing, 

 something in her way, a nuisance. She 

 walks over the grub, treads on it ruthlessly, 

 as she hurries to and fro. When she wants 

 to try and dig at the bottom of the cell, she 

 thrusts it back with a brutal kick; she shoves 

 it on one side, topples it over, flings it out as 

 unceremoniously as if it were a big bit of 

 gravel that hindered her in her work. Thus 

 knocked about, the grub thinks of defending 

 itself. I have seen it seize its mother by 

 the tarsus with no more ceremony than it 

 shows when it bites off the leg of its prey, 

 the Fly. The struggle was hotly contested; 

 but at last the fierce mandibles let go and the 

 mother vanished in terror, making a shrill 

 whimpering noise with her wings. This un- 

 natural sight of the son biting his mother 

 and perhaps even trying to eat her is uncom- 

 mon and is brought about by circumstances 

 which the observer has not at his command; 

 but what can always be witnessed is the 

 Wasp's profound indifference towards her 

 offspring and the brutal contempt with which 

 348 



