The Elephant Weevil 
is the Weevil’s favourite. Its acorns are 
firm, long in shape and moderate in size; the 
cup is covered with little warts. Those of 
the durmast oak are generally stunted, short, 
wrinkled and subject to premature falls. 
The dryness of the Sérignan hills does not 
suit them. The Weevil therefore accepts 
them only in the absence of something better. 
The humility of the kermes, a dwarf shrub, 
a truly comic oak, which a man can step over 
at a stride, is contrasted by the wealth of 
its acorns, which are large, swelling ovoids, 
set in a cup bristling with sharp scales. The 
Weevil could not have a better home. It 
forms a strong dwelling and a copious store- 
house. 
I place a few sprigs from these three oaks, 
well-furnished with acorns, under the dome 
of my wire-gauze covers, with their ends 
dipped in a tumbler of water to keep them 
fresh; I install a suitable number of couples; 
lastly, I stand the cages on the window-sills 
of my study, where they get the direct sun- 
light for the greater part of the day. Let 
us now possess our souls in patience and keep 
a constant watch. We shall be rewarded. 
The exploitation of the acorn is worth seeing. 
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