The Banded Epeira 



puffed into an extra-fine wadding. It is a 

 fleecy cloud, an incomparable quilt, softer 

 than any swan's-down. This is the screen 

 set up against loss of heat. 



And what does this cosy mass protect? 

 See: in the middle of the eiderdown hangs a 

 cylindrical pocket, round at the bottom, cut 

 square at the top and closed with a padded 

 lid. It is made of extremely fine satin; it 

 contains the Epeira's eggs, pretty little orange- 

 coloured beads, which, glued together, form 

 a globule the size of a pea. This is the treas- 

 ure to be defended against the asperities of 

 the winter. 



Now that we know the structure of the 

 work, let us try to see in what manner the 

 spinstress sets about it. The observation is 

 not an easy one, for the Banded Epeira is a 

 night-worker. She needs nocturnal quiet in 

 order not to go astray amid the complicated 

 rules that guide her industry. Now and 

 again, at very early hours in the morning, I 

 have happened to catch her working, which 

 enables me to sum up the progress of the 

 operations. 



My subjects are busy in their bell-shaped 

 cages, at about the middle of August. A 

 fa 



