INTELLIGENCE OF FLOWERS 



Let us now see what happens when an insect enters the 

 flower. She lands on the lower lip, outspread to receive her, 

 and, attracted by the scent of the nectar, seeks to reach the 

 horn that contains it, right at the back. But the passage is 

 purposely very narrow; and the insect's head, as she advances, 

 necessarily strikes the stoup. The latter, sensitive to the least 

 shock, is at once ripped along a suitable line and lays bare 

 the two little balls steeped in the viscid fluid. These, coming 

 into immediate contact with the visitor's skull, fasten to it and 

 become firmly stuck to it, so that, when the insect leaves the 

 flower, she carries them away and, with them, the two stalks 

 which rise from them and which end in the packets of tied- 

 up pollen. We therefore have the insect capped with two 

 straight, bottle-shaped horns. The unconscious artisan of a 

 difficult work now visits a neighbouring flower. If her horns 

 remained stiff, they would simply strike with their packets of 

 pollen the other packets of pollen soaking in the vigilant 

 stoup ; and no event would spring from this mingling of pol- 

 len with pollen. (But here the Orchid's genius, experience 

 and foresight become apparent. It has minutely calculated 

 the time needed for the insect to suck the nectar and repair 

 to the next flower; and it has ascertained that this requires, 



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