The Spanish Copris: the Eggs 



Assiduously she goes from one to another, 

 feels them, listens to them, touches them up 

 at points where my eye can perceive no flaw. 

 Her clumsy, horn-shod foot, more sensitive 

 in darkness than my retina in broad daylight, 

 is perhaps discovering incipient cracks or de- 

 fective workmanship in the matter of con- 

 sistency which must be attended to, in order 

 to prevent the air from entering and drying 

 up the eggs. The prudent mother therefore 

 slips in and out of the narrow spaces between 

 the cradles, Inspecting them carefully and 

 remedying any accident, no matter how 

 trifling. If I disturb her, she sometimes rubs 

 the tip of her abdomen against the edge of 

 her wing-cases, producing a soft rustling 

 noise, which is almost a murmur of com- 

 plaint. Thus, between scrupulous care and 

 brief slumbers beside her group of cradles, 

 the mother passes the three months essential 

 to the evolution of the family. 



I seem to catch a glimpse of the reason for 

 this long watch. The pill-rollers, whether 

 Scarabs or Gymnopleurl, never have more 

 than a single pear, a single ovoid in their 

 burrows. The mass of foodstuff, which at 

 times is rolled from a great distance, is 

 necessarily limited by the Insect's own limita- 

 tions of strength. It is enough for one 



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