inspect the premises; they buzz outside the glass
galleries and the reed dwellings; they go in, stay for a while, come
out, go in again and then fly away briskly into the garden. They
return, first one, then another. They halt outside, in the sun, or on
the shutters fastened back against the wall; they hover in the
window-recess, come inside, go to the reeds and give a glance at them,
only to set off again and to return soon after. Thus do they learn to
know their home, thus do they fix their birthplace in their memory. The
village of our childhood is always a cherished spot, never to be
effaced from our recollection. The Osmia's life endures for a month;
and she acquires a lasting remembrance of her hamlet in a couple of
days. 'Twas there that she was born; 'twas there that she loved; 'tis
there that she will return. Dulces reminiscitur Argos.

(Now falling by another's wound, his eyes
He casts to heaven, on Argos thinks and dies.
--"Aeneid" Book 10, Dryden's translation.)

At last each has made her choice. The work of construction begins; and
my expectations are fulfilled far beyond my wishes. The Osmiae build
nests in all the retreats which I have placed at their disposal. And
now, O my Osmiae, I leave you a free field!

The work begins with a thorough spring-cleaning of the home. Remnants
of cocoons, dirt consisting of spoilt honey, bits of plaster from
broken partitions, remains of dried Mollusc at the bottom of a shell:
these and much other insanitary refuse must first of all disappear.
Violently the Osmia tugs at the offending object and tears it out; and
then off she goes in a desperate hurry, to dispose of it far away from
the study. They are all alike, these ardent sweepers: in their
excessive zeal, they fear lest they should block up the speck of dust
which they might drop in front of the new house. The glass tubes, which
I myself have rinsed under the tap, are not exempt from a scrupulous
cleaning. The Osmia dusts them, brushes them thoroughly with her tarsi
and then sweeps them out backwards. What does she pick up? Not a thing.
It makes no difference: as a conscientious housewife, she gives the
place a touch of the broom nevertheless.

Now for the provisions and the partition-walls. Here the order of the
work changes according to the diameter of the cylinder. My glass tubes
vary greatly in dimensions. The largest have an inner width of a dozen
millimetres (Nearly half an inch.--Translator's Note.)