Narbonne Lycosa: Climbing-Instinct 



fourth year. In the winter, in the fields, I 

 used to find large mothers, carting their 

 young, and others not much more than half 

 their size. The whole series, therefore, repre- 

 sented three generations. And now, in my 

 earthenware pans, after the departure of the 

 family, the old matrons still carry on and con- 

 tinue as strong as ever. Every outward ap- 

 pearance tells us that, after becoming great- 

 grandmothers, they still keep themselves fit 

 for propagating their species. 



The facts correspond with these anticipa- 

 tions. When September returns, my captives 

 are dragging a bag as bulky as that of last 

 year. For a long time, even when the eggs of 

 the others have been hatched for some weeks 

 past, the mothers come daily to the threshold 

 of the burrow and hold out their wallets for 

 incubation by the sun. Their perseverance 

 is not rewarded : nothing issues from the satin 

 purse; nothing stirs within. Why? Because, 

 in the prison of my cages, the eggs have had 

 no father. Tired of waiting and at last recog- 

 nizing the barrenness of their produce, they 

 push the bag of eggs outside the burrow and 

 trouble about it no more. At the return of 

 spring, by which time the family, if developed 



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