The Hunting Wasps 



The bare soil, the pebbly bits, the grassy 

 parts are visited without distinction. For 

 nearly three hours, in the heat of the sun, in 

 sultry weather which means rain to-morrow 

 and a few drops to-night, I watch the Am- 

 mophila's search, without taking my eyes 

 from her for a second. What a difficult 

 thing a Grey Worm is to find, for a Wasp 

 who needs it just at that moment ! 



It is no less difficult for man. The reader 

 knows my method of witnessing the surgical 

 operation to which a Hunting Wasp subjects 

 her prey, with a view to giving her grubs 

 flesh that is lifeless but not dead. I rob the 

 marauder of her spoil and, in exchange, give 

 her a live prey, similar to her own. I was 

 arranging the same manoeuvre with regard to 

 the Ammophila, so that, after she had smit- 

 ten her caterpillar, which she was bound to 

 find at any moment now, I might make her 

 perform the operation a second time. I was 

 therefore in urgent need of a few Grey 

 Worms. 



Favier was there, gardening. I called out 

 to him: 



'* Come here, quick; I want some Grey 

 Worms!" 



I explain the thing to him; for that mat- 

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