Bramble-bees and Others 



daughters, the heiresses of the maternal es- 

 tablishment, are at work, display wonderful 

 vigilance. The more I see of them, the more 

 I admire them. In the cool hours of the early 

 morning, when the pollen-flour is not suffi- 

 ciently ripened by the sun and the harvesters 

 are still indoors, I see them at their posts, at 

 the top of the gallery. Here, motionless, 

 their heads flush with the earth, they bar the 

 door to all invaders. If I look at them 

 closely, they retreat a little and, in the shadow, 

 await the indiscreet observer's departure. 



I return when the harvesting is in full 

 swing, between eight o'clock and twelve. 

 There is now, as the Halicti go in or out, a 

 succession of prompt withdrawals to open the 

 door and of ascents to close it. The portress 

 is in the full exercise of her functions. 



In the afternoon, the heat is too great and 

 the workers do not go to the fields. Retiring 

 to the bottom of the house, they varnish the 

 new cells, they make the round loaf that is to 

 receive the egg. The grandmother is still up- 

 stairs, stopping the door with her bald head. 

 For her, there is no siesta during the stifling 

 hours: the safety of the household requires 

 her to forego it. 



410 



