A Parasite of the Bembex 285 



emits it when there is no peril. But who is the 

 enemy ? Can it be I, sitting here and watch- 

 ing ? Why, no : I am nothing to her, nothing 

 but a shapeless mass unworthy of her attention. 

 The formidable enemy, the fearsome foe that 

 must be avoided at all costs, is there, sitting 

 motionless on the sand, near the house. It is 

 a miserable little Fly, feeble and inoffensive 

 in appearance. This insignificant Gnat is the 

 terror of the Bembex. The scourge of the Fly- 

 tribe, the fierce slayer who so swiftly wrings 

 the necks of colossal Gad-flies sated with blood 

 from an Ox's back, does not enter her own 

 residence because she sees herself watched by 

 another Fly, a regular pigmj^ who would make 

 scarcely a mouthful for her larvae. 



Why does she not pounce upon her and get 

 rid of the little wretch ? The Wasp is quick 

 enough on the wing to catch her ; and, small 

 though the capture be, the larvae will not scorn 

 it, since any sort of Fly suits them. But no : 

 the Bembex flees from a foe whom she could 

 cut to bits with a single stroke of her mandibles ; 

 it is to me as though I saw my Cat fleeing in 

 terror from a Mouse. The ardent huntress of 

 Flies is hunted by a Fly, and a small one at that. 

 I bow before the facts without hoping ever to 

 understand this inversion of the parts played 

 by each insect. To be able to rid yourself 



