:>* OCSB LIBRARY THE MASON-BEES THE MASON-BEES BY J. HENRI FABRE TRANSLATED BY ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS FELLOW OF TH1 ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1914 Copyright, 1914 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY CONTENTS PAGE TRANSLATOR'S NOTE vii I THE MASON-BEES I II EXPERIMENTS 30 III EXCHANGING THE NESTS . .56 IV MORE ENQUIRIES INTO MASON-BEES 73 V THE STORY OF MY CATS . .109 VI THE RED ANTS 124 VII SOME REFLECTIONS UPON INSECT PSYCHOLOGY 158 VIII PARASITES I9O IX THE THEORY OF PARASITISM . .217 X THE TRIE ULATIONS OF THE MASON- BEE 250 XI THE LEUCOSPES 277 INDEX 311 TRANSLATOR'S NOTE volume contains all the essays on the THISChalicodomae, or Mason-bees proper, which so greatly enhance the interest of the early volumes of the Souvenirs ento- mologiques. I have also included an essay on the author's Cats and one on Red Ants the only study of Ants comprised in the Souvenirs both of which bear upon the sense of direction possessed by the Bees. Those treating of the Osmiae, who are also Mason- bees, although not usually known by that name, will be found in a separate volume, which I have called Bramble Bees and Others, and in which I have collected all that Fabre has written on such other Wild Bees as the Megachiles, or Leaf-cutters, the Cotton-bees, the Resin-bees, and the Halicti. The essays entitled The Mason-bees, Ex- periments and Exchanging the Nests form the last three chapters of Insect Life, translated by the author of Mademoiselle Mori and pub- lished by Messrs. Macmillan, who, with the greatest courtesy and kindness have given me their permission to include a new translation yii Translator's Note of these chapters in the present volume. They did so without fee or consideration of any kind, merely on my representation that it would be a great pity if this uniform edi- tion of Fabre's Works should be rendered incomplete because certain essays formed part of volumes of extracts previously published in this country. Their generosity is almost unparalleled in my experience; and I wish to thank them publicly for it in the name of the author, of the French publishers and of the English and American publishers, as well as in my own. Some of the chapters have appeared in England in the Daily Mail, the Fortnightly Review and the English Review; some in America in Good Housekeeping and the Youth's Companion; others now see the light in English for the first time. I have again to thank Miss Frances Rod- well for the invaluable assistance which she has given me in the work of translation and in the less interesting and more tedious de- partment of research. ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. Chelsea, 1914. viii CHAPTER I THE MASON-BEES 1 devoted one of his papers to REAUMURthe story of the Chalicodoma of the Walls, whom he calls the Mason-bee. I propose to go on with the story, to complete it and especially to consider it from a point of view wholly neglected by that eminent observer. And, first of all, I am tempted to tell how I made this Bee's acquaintance. It was when I first began to teach, about 1843. I had left the normal school at Vaucluse, some months before, with my diploma and all the simple enthusiasm of my eighteen years, and had been sent to Car- pentras, there to manage the primary school attached to the college. It was a strange school, upon my word, notwithstanding its pompous title of "upper;" a sort of huge cellar oozing with the perpetual damp en- 1 Rene Antoine Ferchault de Reaumur (1683-1757), inventor of the Reaumur thermometer and author of Memoires pour servir a I'histoire naturelle des insectes. Translator's Note. The Mason-bees gendered by a well backing on it in the street outside. For light there was the open door, when the weather permitted, and a narrow prison-window, with iron bars and lozenge panes set in lead. By way of benches there was a plank fastened to the wall all round the room, while in the middle was a chair bereft of its straw, a black-board and a stick of chalk. Morning and evening, at the sound of the bell, there came rushing in some fifty young imps, who, having shown themselves hopeless dunces with their Cornelius Nepos, had been relegated, in the phrase of the day, to "a few good years of French." Those who had found mensa too much for them came to me to get a smattering of grammar. Children and strapping lads were there, mixed up to- gether, at very different educational stages, but all incorrigibly agreed to play tricks upon the master, the boy master who was no older than some of them, or even younger. To the little ones I gave their first lessons in reading; the intermediate ones I showed how they should hold their pen to write a few lines of dictation on their knees; to the big ones I revealed the secrets of fractions The Mason-bees and. even the mysteries of Euclid. And to keep this restless crowd in order, to give each mind work in accordance with its strength, to keep attention aroused and lastly to expel dul- ness from the gloomy room, whose walls dripped melancholy even more than damp- ness, my one resource was my tongue, my one weapon my stick of chalk. For that matter, there was the same con- tempt in the other classes for all that was not Latin or Greek. One instance will be enough to show how things then stood with the teaching of physics, the science which occupies so large a place to-day. The prin- cipal of the college was a first-rate man, the worthy Abbe X., who, not caring to dispense beans and bacon himself, had left the com- missariat-department to one of his relatives and had undertaken instead to teach the boys physics. Let us attend one of his lessons. The sub- ject is the barometer. The establishment happens to possess one, an old apparatus, covered with dust, hanging on the wall be- yond the reach of profane hands and bearing on its face, in large letters, the words stormy, rain, fair. The Mason-bees "The barometer," says the good abbe, addressing his pupils, whom, in patriarchal fashion, he calls by their Christian names, "the barometer tells us if the weather will be good or bad. You see the words written on the face stormy, rain do you see, Bas- tien?" "Yes, I see," says Bastien, the most mis- chievous of the lot. He has been looking through his book and knows more about the barometer than his teacher does. "It consists," the ,abbe continues, "of a bent glass tube filled with mercury, which rises and falls according to the weather. The shorter leg of this tube is open; the other . the other . well, we'll see. Here, Bastien, you're the tallest, get up on the chair and just feel with your finger if the long leg is open or closed. I can't remember for certain." Bastien climbs on the chair, stands as high as he can on tip-toe and fumbles with his finger at the top of the long column. Then, with a discreet smile spreading under the silky hairs of his dawning moustache: "Yes," he says, "that's it. The long leg 4 The Mason-bees is open at the top. There, I can feel the hole." And Bastien, to confirm his mendacious statement, keeps wriggling his forefinger at the top of the tube, while his fellow-conspira- tors suppress their enjoyment as best they can. "That will do," says the unconscious abbe. "You can get down, Bastien. Take a note of it, boys : the longer leg of the barometer is open; take a note of it. It's a thing you might forget; I had forgotten it myself." Thus was physics taught. Things im- proved, however : a master came and came to stay, one who knew that the long leg of the barometer is closed. I myself secured tables on which my pupils were able to write instead of scribbling on their knees; and, as my class was daily increasing in numbers, it ended by being divided into two. As soon as I had an assistant to look after the younger boys, things assumed a different aspect. Among the subjects taught, one in particu- lar appealed to both master and pupils. This was open-air geometry, practical surveying. The college had none of the necessary outfit; but, with my fat pay seven hundred francs 5 The Mason-bees a year, if you please! I could not hesitate over the expense. A surveyor's chain and stakes, arrows, level, square and compass were bought with my money. A microscopic graphometer, not much larger than the palm of one's hand and costing perhaps five francs, was provided by the establishment. There was no tripod to it; and I had one made. In short, my equipment was complete. And so, when May came, once every week we left the gloomy school-room for the fields. It was a regular holiday. The boys disputed for the honour of carrying the stakes, divided into bundles of three; and more than one shoulder, as we walked through the town, felt the reflected glory of those erudite rods. I myself why conceal the fact? was not without a certain satisfaction as I piously car- ried that most delicate and precious appa- ratus, the historic five-franc graphometer.