The Life of the Weevil 
but, should the gardener leave the artichoke 
a few late heads, these are accepted by the 
Larinus as eagerly as the cardoon’s. Under 
different names, the two plants are merely 
horticultural varieties; and the Weevil, a 
thorough expert, makes no mistake about it. 
Under the scorching July sun, a cardoon- 
head exploited by the Larini is a sight worth 
seeing. Drunk with heat, busily staggering 
amid the thicket of blue florets, they dive 
with their tails in the air, sinking and even 
disappearing into the depths of the shaggy 
forest. 
What do they do down there? It is not 
possible to observe them directly; but a local 
inspection after the work is finished will tell 
us. Between the tufts of hairs, not far from 
the base, they clear with the rostrum a place 
to receive their egg. If they are able to 
reach a seed, they rid it of its feathers and 
cut a shallow cup in it, an egg-cup as it were. 
The probe is pushed no farther. The fleshy 
dome, the tasty heart which one would at 
first suppose to be the favourite morsel, is 
never attacked by the pregnant mothers. 
As might have been expected, so rich an 
establishment implies a numerous population. 
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