The Wisdom of Instinct 167 



Ephippigers, carrying a sword at the end of her 

 belly, like the game which I have abstracted. 

 The dispossessed Wasp stamps her feet two or 

 three times ; and that is the only sign of im- 

 patience which she gives. She goes for her 

 new prey, which is too stout, too obese even to 

 try to avoid pursuit, grips it with her mandibles 

 by the saddle-shaped corselet, gets astride and, 

 curving her abdomen, slips the end of it under 

 the Ephippiger's thorax. Here, no doubt, 

 some stings are administered, though I am 

 unable to state the number exactly, because of 

 the difficulty of observation. The Ephippiger, 

 a peaceable victim, suffers herself to be operated 

 on without resistance ; she is like the silly 

 Sheep of our slaughter-houses. The Sphex 

 takes her time and wields her lancet with a 

 deliberation which favours accuracy of aim. So 

 far, the observer has nothing to complain of ; 

 but the prey touches the ground with its breast 

 and belly, and exactly what happens under- 

 neath escapes his eye. As for interfering and 

 lifting the Ephippiger a little, so as to see 

 better, that must not be thought of : the 

 murderess would resheathe her weapon and 

 retire. The act that follows is easy to observe. 

 After stabbing the thorax, the tip of the 

 abdomen appears under the victim's neck, 

 which the operator forces open by pressing the 



