The other Hunting Wasps that pursue the chase far afield grip, drag, carry their prey, after depriving it of movement, each in her own fashion and, laden with their burden, make prolonged attempts to escape from the bell-glass and to gain the burrow. Discouraged by these futile endeavours, they abandon them at last. The Scolia does not remove her quarry, which lies on its back for an indefinite time on the actual spot of the sacrifice. When she has withdrawn her dagger from the wound, she leaves her victim where it lies and, without taking further notice of it, begins to flutter against the side of the glass. The paralysed carcase is not transported elsewhere, into a special cellar; there where the struggle has occurred it receives, upon its extended abdomen, the egg whence the consumer of the succulent tit-bit will emerge, thus saving the expense of setting up house. It goes without saying that under the bell-glass the laying does not take place:
the mother is too cautious to abandon her egg to the perils of the open air.
Why then, recognizing the absence of her underground burrow, does the Scolia uselessly pursue the Cetonia with the frantic ardour of the Philanthus flinging herself upon the Bee? The action of the Philanthus is explained by her passion for honey; hence the murders committed in excess of the needs of her family. The Scolia leaves us perplexed: she takes nothing from the Cetonia-grub, which is left without an egg; she stabs, though well aware of the uselessness of her action: the heap of mould is lacking and it is not her custom to transport her prey. The other prisoners, once the blow is struck, at least seek to escape with their capture between their legs; the Scolia attempts nothing.
After due reflection, I lump together in my suspicions all these surgeons and ask myself whether they possess the slightest foresight, where the egg is concerned. When, exhausted by their burden, they recognize the impossibility of escape, the more expert among them ought not to begin all over again; yet they do so begin a few minutes later. These wonderful anatomists know absolutely nothing about anything, they do not even know what their victims are good for. Admirable artists in killing and paralysis, they kill or paralyse at every favourable opportunity, no matter what the final result as regards the egg. Their talent, which leaves our science speechless, has not a shadow of consciousness of the task accomplished.
A second detail strikes me: the desperate persistence of the Scolia. I have seen the struggle continue for more than a quarter of an hour, with frequent alternations of good luck and bad, before the Wasp achieved the required position and reached with the end of her abdomen the spot where the sting should penetrate. During these assaults, which were resumed as soon as they were repulsed, the aggressor repeatedly applied the tip of her belly to the larva, but without unsheathing, as I could see by the absence of the start which the larva gives when it feels the pain of the sting. The Scolia therefore does not prick the Cetonia anywhere until the weapon covers the requisite spot. If no wounds are inflicted elsewhere, this is not in any way due to the structure of the larva, which is soft and vulnerable all over, except in the head. The point sought by the sting is no more unprotected than any other part of the skin.
In the scuffle, the Scolia, curved into a bow, is sometimes seized by the vice-like grip of the Cetonia-grub, which is violently coiling and uncoiling. Heedless of the powerful grip, the Wasp does not let go for a moment, either with her mandibles or with the tip of her abdomen. At such times the two creatures, locked in a mutual embrace, turn over and over in a mad whirl, each of them now on top, now underneath. When it contrives to rid itself of its enemy, the larva uncoils again, stretches itself out and proceeds to make off upon its back with all possible speed. Its defensive ruses are exhausted. Formerly, before I had seen things for myself, taking probability as my guide I willingly granted to the larva the trick of the Hedgehog, who rolls himself into a ball and sets the Dog at defiance.
Coiled upon itself, with an energy which my fingers have some difficulty in overcoming, the larva, I thought, would defy the Scolia, powerless to unroll it and disdaining any point but the one selected. I hoped and believed that it possessed this means of defence, a means both efficacious and extremely simple. I had presumed too much upon its ingenuity. Instead of imitating the Hedgehog and remaining contracted, it flees, belly in air;it foolishly adopts the very posture which allows the Scolia to mount to the assault and to reach the spot for the fatal stroke. The silly beast reminds me of the giddy Bee who comes and flings herself into the clutches of the Philanthus. Yet another who has learnt no lesson from the struggle for life.
