Bramble-bees and Others 



clement month, subject to sudden returns of 

 frost. When none as yet, even among her 

 near kinswomen, dares to sally forth from 

 winter-quarters, she pluckily goes to work, 

 shine the sun ever so little. Like the Zebra 

 Halictus, she has two generations a year, one 

 in spring and one in summer; like her, too, she 

 settles by preference in the hard ruts of the 

 country-roads. 



Her mole-hills, those humble mounds any 

 two of which would go easily into a Hen's egg, 

 rise innumerous in my path, the path by the 

 almond-trees which is the happy hunting- 

 ground of my curiosity to-day. This path is 

 a ribbon of road three paces wide, worn into 

 ruts by the Mule's hoofs and the wheels of 

 the farm-carts. A coppice of holm-oaks shel- 

 ters it from the north-wind. In this Eden 

 with its well-caked soil, its warmth and quiet, 

 the little Halictus has multiplied her mole- 

 hills to such a degree that I cannot take a step 

 without crushing some of them. The acci- 

 dent is not serious: the miner, safe under- 

 ground, will be able to scramble up the crum- 

 bling sides of the mine and repair the thresh- 

 old of the trampled home, 



I make a point of measuring the density of 



420 



