ergreen oaks I
surprise a Balaninus with the trunk half sunk in an acorn. Careful
observation is impossible while the branches are shaken by the
_mistral_. I detach the twig and lay it gently upon the ground. The
insect takes no notice of its removal; it continues its work. I crouch
beside it, sheltered from the storm behind a mass of underwood, and
watch operations.

Shod with adhesive sandals which later on, in my laboratory, will allow
it rapidly to climb a vertical sheet of glass, the elephant-beetle is
solidly established on the smooth, steep curvature of the acorn. It is
working its drill. Slowly and awkwardly it moves around its implanted
weapon, describing a semicircle whose centre is the point of the drill,
and then another semicircle in the reverse direction. This is repeated
over and over again; the movement, in short, is identical with that we
give to a bradawl when boring a hole in a plank.

Little by little the rostrum sinks into the acorn. At the end of an hour
it has entirely disappeared. A short period of repose follows, and
finally the instrument is withdrawn. What is going to happen next?
Nothing on this occasion. The Balaninus abandons its work and solemnly
retires, disappearing among the withered leaves. For the day there is
nothing more to be learned.

But my interest is now awakened. On calm days, more favourable to the
entomologist, I return to the woods, and I soon have sufficient insects
to people my laboratory cages. Foreseeing a serious difficulty in the
slowness with which the beetle labours, I prefer to study them indoors,
with the unlimited leisure only to be found in one's own home.

The precaution is fortunate. If I had tried to continue as I began, and
to observe the Balaninus in the liberty of the woods, I should never,
even with the greatest good fortune, have had the patience to follow to
the end the choice of the acorn, the boring of the hole, and the laying
of the eggs, so meticulously deliberate is the insect in all its
affairs; as the reader will soon be able to judge.

Three species of oak-tree compose the copse inhabited by the Balaninus:
the evergreen oak and the pubescent oak, which would become fine trees
if the woodman would give them time, and the kermes oak, a mere scrubby
bush. The first species, which is the most abundant of the three, is
that preferred by the Balaninus. The acorn is firm, elongated, and of
moderate size; the cup is covered with little warts. The a