Sept. 15, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
4*3 
straws. These she was to pick up and hand 
out from among the litter of her cage. No 
constant order was to be observed in making 
these requests; but whenever she handed a num¬ 
ber not asked for her offer was to be refused, 
while if she gave the proper number her offer 
was to be accepted, and she was to receive a 
piece of fruit in payment. In this way the ape 
had learned to associate these three numbers 
with the names. As soon as the animal under¬ 
stood what was required, she never failed to give 
the number of straws asked for. Her educa¬ 
tion was then completed in a similar manner 
from three to four, and from four to five straws. 
Sally rarely made mistakes up to that number; 
but above five and up to ten, to which one of the 
keepers endeavored to advance her education, 
the result is uncertain. It is evident that she 
understands the words seven, eight, nine and ten 
to betoken numbers higher than those below 
them. When she was asked for any number 
above six. she always gave some number over 
six and under ten. She sometimes doubled over 
a straw to make it present two ends, and was 
supposed (thus) to hasten the attainment of her 
The Library of Natural History is published 
by The University Society, Inc., 78 Fifth avenue, 
New York city. 
Some Common Insects. 
BY CLARENCE M. WEED. 
III.—The Potter Wasps. 
One of the most curious and interesting of 
all the architectural devices made by insects is 
found in the earthen cells shown in the accom¬ 
panying picture, from a photograph taken by Mr. 
A. H. Verrill. These strange cells are made of 
clay by the species of wasp illustrated above 
them, and are constructed with much architect¬ 
ural skill. They are to be found every summer 
in a great variety of situations, the insects ap¬ 
parently choosing almost any slender support on 
which there are projections that will help to 
hold the clay walls in place. They are frequently 
to be found upon various brier-bearing plants, 
and occasionally I have found them upon wire 
netting. 
This insect is called the fraternal potter wasp 
and it belongs to the genus Eumenes. It is an 
interesting and rather pretty little insect about 
three-quarters of an inch long, black except for 
various yellow markings, with the waist very 
slender and thread-like. The mother wasps build 
the curious cells out of bits of sand cemented 
together by the saliva of the insect, often having 
a curiously projecting rim which is suggestive of 
the mouth of a jug, like the one shown in the 
lower cell of the illustration. 
As is the case with so many of the wasps that 
work in clay, these cells are made for holding 
the victims upon which the larva are to feed. 
When the little tenement is nearly finished, the 
mother wasp searches leaves and stems to find 
small caterpillars, which she paralyzes by sting¬ 
ing, and carries to the earthen cell, crowding 
them inside until the cell is nearly full. Then 
just within the top of the cell she deposits an 
egg and closes the cell by cementing over the 
open hole a firm cap. 
Shortly after the hole has thus been closed, the 
egg laid by the mother wasp hatches into a tiny 
whitish larva that immediately begins to feed 
upon the helpless victims immured beside it. It 
continues to suck their juices for weeks, grad¬ 
ually increasing in size until at last, when it 
has reached the end of its provisions, it is large 
enough to change to the pupal or chrysalis state. 
This change takes place within the earthen cell, 
which thus serves as a protective covering dur¬ 
ing the quiet period that is to ensue between the 
time when the larva casts its skin to become a 
pupa, and the pupa casts its skin to become an 
adult wasp. Within this period the body of the 
larva is rebuilt in so wonderful a way that the 
hard-bodied beautiful wasp is able to emerge 
from the pupa with sharp teeth, by means of 
which it gnaws a hole in the wall of its tenement 
and emerges to the outer world to fly in the hot 
sunshine and visit various flowers, as well as to 
continue the cycle of insect life. 
Some exceedingly interesting observations upon 
the life history of the European potter wasps 
have been made by a noted French entomologist, 
J. H. Favre. He discovered that the egg is hung 
CELLS OF POTTER WASP. 
Photographed by A. H. Verrill. 
from the top of the cell, being attached by a 
thread as fine as a spider’s web. This serves to 
keep it out of the reach of the mass of semi- 
paralyzed caterpillars, and when the egg hatches 
into a tiny maggot the latter utilizes the empty 
egg shell as a sort of sheath to hold it in posi¬ 
tion while it feeds upon the victims below. After 
the wasp larva gets large enough to shift for 
itself among the caterpillars without danger of 
injury, it no longer utilizes the empty egg shell 
for its protection. 
The Autumn Choristers. 
On the evening of August 7 we had the 
heaviest storm of the season. Such a play of 
lightning, crashing of thunder and downpour of 
rain are seldom seen. Yet during it all the 
locusts did not intermit their songs. It was 
most curious and impressive in a way to hear 
between the deafening peals of thunder the soft 
drowsy cadence of the insects. The words of 
an old Japanese poet fitted the situation almost 
exactly: “Hark! how the thunder god rages! 
And lo! how his eye flashes across the heavens! 
Destruction seems impending o’er the world. Yet 
the locusts and the cicadae calmly sing on. They 
seem only to be conscious that it is the season 
of love.” 
On the evening following the storm the 
katydid was . heard the first time'. But for sev¬ 
eral evenings after it was silent. Why was this? 
Possibly a change in the temperature was the 
cause. 
The snowy tree cricket commenced its concert 
unusually early this year. But none too soon, for 
albeit its “song” is so suggestive of the waning 
year it is always a delight to the ear. I said “song,” 
but as a matter of fact, the insect has. two songs. 
one for the day and the other for the night. The 
latter, however, is the one with which we are 
most familiar and is far superior to the former. 
It has in it something of the very spirit of night 
and sleep and peace. It hardly seems a sound. 
Rather is it, as Hawthorne expressed it, “audible 
stillness.” Withal it is particularly audible in 
the neighborhood of large woods—suggesting the 
continuous ringing of sleighbells at a distance, or 
in a measure the rolling of small stones over a 
sheet of clear ice. The effect is soothing in the 
extreme. 
While the snowy cricket sings, the other 
crickets are not silent. The common field cricket 
is very' musical at night. Its song, which is 
high-pitched, is'at once cheery and sad. It lasts 
long after the nights have commenced to get chill. 
Another little field cricket sings a persistent 
song, which reminds one of the Italian fruit 
vendor’s chestnut, which he uses as a steam 
valve. The mole cricket sings a decidedly plain¬ 
tive ditty. But it is not heard SO' often as the 
others. The house cricket ( Gryllus domesticus), 
which is so well-known in Europe, is not common 
in this country and is rarely met with around a 
house. Perhaps the absence of the hearth 'in 
our houses will explain this. In the old countries 
the insect is generally found in the neighborhood 
of the hearth, which it appears to love. Its song, 
by association, has become the musical symbol 
of domestic cheer and comfort—in Europe, that 
is. Here we only hear it, as a rule, by the way- 
side, and it makes no particular impression on 
us, for it is not especially musical—a jerky, in¬ 
termittent cri-cri or cri-kt, that is all. It need 
hardly be added that it is from this cry the word 
cricket is derived. 
One of the most extraordinary things con¬ 
nected with the Gryllidce family is their power 
of maintaining their song. If, as an eminent au¬ 
thority (Scudder) has stated, the katydid makes 
200 notes per minute, how many must the field 
cricket make? Probably three or four times as 
many. And this not for a short time but for 
hour after hour! What a tremendous energy is 
stored in that minute little body! The only 
parallel we can find for it is in the electric wire. 
The chief characteristic of the grand autumn 
chorus is its harmony. The notes of the various 
Locustidce and Gryllidce blend admirably. Even 
the somewhat strident iterations of the katydid, 
being perfectly rhythmic, form a base to the treble 
of the crickets. 
But jarring notes are occasionally heard—not 
from the insects, however, but from the feathered 
tribe, who have now ceased to sing and seem 
possessed of a spirit of unrest and discontent. 
The robin utters a sullen kuk-nuk —the thrush an 
anxious tzuit-twit —the catbird a fretful meiv. 
Still more unpleasant than these are the harsh 
guttural call of the fish crow, or the wailing un¬ 
canny cry of the screech owl. 
As evening closes in, you observe vaguely 
against the sky a dark bird winging its way 
slowly toward the woods and uttering an oc¬ 
casional qu-aak! It is Corvus ossifragus return¬ 
ing from his fishing in the creeks and bays. 
What a discordant bird! you think. But pres¬ 
ently, when with the rising of the moon you hear 
that other cry floating weirdly on the waste air, 
you think the qu-aak of the fish crow decidedly 
musical by comparison. 
They pass, as do other jarring notes of night¬ 
fall, and the song of the crickets alone is heard 
-—filling the air and seeming to emphasize the 
silence and peace. Frank Moonan 
New York, September. 
Pigeons Reported in Pennsylvania. 
A letter has been received by Secretary 
Kalbfus. of the State Game Commission, from 
H. H. Rishel, of Clearfield county, Pa., saying 
that wild pigeons are returning to that State, 
and for the past season a flock of 300 have 
roosted near his home. These birds disap¬ 
peared twenty-five years ago, and were supposed 
to be extinct in that county. Dr. Kalbfus says 
the indications are that they may return Time 
was when there were millions of these birds in 
every part of Pennsylvania and New Jersey 
every spring and fall.—Dover (N. J.) Index. 
