The Pea-Weevil: The Eggs 
single ration the impetuous ovaries always 
offer a multiplicity of consumers. 
My notes are unanimous on this point. 
The number of eggs laid on a pod always 
exceeds and often in a scandalous fashion 
the number of peas available. However 
scanty the food-wallet may be, the guests 
are superabundant. Dividing the number 
of eggs perceived on a given pod by that 
of the peas inside it, I find from five to eight 
claimants for each pea; I find as many as 
ten; and there is nothing to tell me that the 
prodigality does not go farther still. Many 
are called, but few are chosen! Why all 
these supernumeraries, who are necessarily 
excluded from the banquet for want of 
space? 
The eggs are a fairly bright amber-yellow, 
cylindrical in form, smooth and rounded at 
both ends. They are a millimetre long at 
most.1_ Each of them is fixed to the pod by 
a thin network of threads of coagulated 
albumen. Neither the rain nor the wind can 
loosen their hold. 
The mother often emits them two at a 
1% inch.—Translator’s Note. 
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