owed. There remained a narrow slit
at the base, sufficient at most to admit the passage of a horsehair.
It was through this that the laying was performed. Lengthening her
ovipositor like a telescope, the mother inserted the point of her
implement, a point slightly hardened with a horny armor. The fineness
of the probe equals the fineness of the aperture. But, if the beak were
entirely closed, where would the eggs be laid then?

With a tied thread, I keep the two mandibles in absolute contact; and
I place a second bluebottle in the presence of the linnet, which the
colonists have already entered by the beak. This time, the laying
takes place on one of the eyes, between the lid and the eyeball. At
the hatching, which again occurs a couple of days later, the grubs make
their way into the fleshy depths of the socket. The eyes and the beak,
therefore, form the two chief entrances into feathered game.

There are others; and these are the wounds. I cover the linnet's head
with a paper hood which will prevent invasion through the beak and eyes.
I serve it, under the wire gauze bell, to a third egg layer. The bird
has been struck by a shot in the breast, but the sore is not bleeding:
no outer stain marks the injured spot. Moreover, I am careful to arrange
the feathers, to smooth them with a hair pencil, so that the bird looks
quite smart and has every appearance of being untouched.

The fly is soon there. She inspects the linnet from end to end; with
her front tarsi she fumbles at the breast and belly. It is a sort of
auscultation by sense of touch. The insect becomes aware of what is
under the feathers by the manner in which these react. If scent comes
to her assistance, it can only be very slightly, for the game is not yet
high. The wound is soon found. No drop of blood is near it, for it is
closed by a plug of down rammed into it by the shot. The fly takes up
her position without separating the feathers or uncovering the wound.
She remains here for two hours without stirring, motionless, with her
abdomen concealed beneath the plumage. My eager curiosity does not
distract her from her business for a moment.

When she has finished, I take her place. There is nothing either on the
skin or at the mouth of the wound. I have to withdraw the downy plug
and dig to some depth before discovering the eggs. The ovipositor has
therefore lengthened its extensible tube and pushed beyond the feather
stopper driven in by the lead. The eggs