The Life of the Weevil 
comes that of man, calculating how much 
bacon his harvest will bring him. One 
regret mingles with the rejoicings, that is to 
see sO many acorns scattered on the ground, 
pierced, spoilt, good for nothing. Man in- 
veighs against the author of the damage. 
To listen to him, you would think that the 
forest were his alone and that the oaks bore 
fruit only for his Pig. 
“My friend,” I would say to him, “‘the 
forest-ranger can’t summon the delinquent 
and this is just as well, for our self-seeking, 
which is inclined to look upon the acorn-crop 
only in the light of a string of sausages, 
would lead to tiresome results. The oak 
invites the whole world to enjoy its fruits. 
We take the biggest share, because we are 
the strongest. That is only our right... . 
But what ranks ever so much higher is a 
fair division among the various consumers, 
great and small, all of whom play their part 
in this world. If it is well that the Black- 
bird should whistle and gladden the burgeon- 
ing of the spring, then let us not take it ill 
that the acorns are rotten. For here the 
Blackbird’s dessert is prepared, the Weevil, 
IIo 
