The Spanish Copris: the Eggs 



under the heap. It is a rough cavern, large 

 enough to hold an apple. Here is intro- 

 duced, bit by bit, the stuff that is just over 

 his head or at any rate lying on the threshold 

 of the cavern; here is engulfed, in no definite 

 shape, an enormous supply of victuals, bear- 

 ing eloquent witness to the insect's gluttony. 

 As long as the hoard lasts, the Copris, en- 

 grossed in the pleasures of the table, does 

 not return to the surface. The home is not 

 abandoned until the larder is emptied, when 

 the insect recommences its nocturnal quest, 

 finds a new treasure and scoops out another 

 temporary dwelling. 



As his trade is merely that of a gatherer 

 of manure, shovelling in the stuff without any 

 preliminary manipulation, the Copris is 

 evidently quite ignorant, for the time being, 

 of the art of l^neading and modelling a 

 globular loaf. Besides, his short, clumsy 

 legs seem utterly Irreconcilable with any such 

 art. 



In May, or June at latest, comes laylng- 

 tlme. The insect, so ready to fill its own 

 belly with the most sordid materials, becomes 

 particular where the portion of its family Is 

 concerned. Like the Sacred Beetle, like the 

 Gymnopleurus, It now wants the soft produce 

 of the Sheep, deposited in a single slab. 



187 



