Note 1 — Chapter x · THE IGNORANCE OF INSTINCT

A Sphex, dragging her prey along, is a few inches from the burrow. Without disturbing her, I cut with a pair of scissors the Ephippiger’s antennæ, which the Wasp, as we know, uses for harness-ropes. On recovering from the surprise caused by the sudden lightening of her load, the Sphex goes back to her victim and, without hesitation, now seizes the root of the antenna, the short stump left by the scissors. It is very short indeed, hardly a millimetre;1 no matter: it is enough for the Sphex, who grips this fag-end of a rope and resumes her hauling. With the greatest precaution, so as not to injure the Wasp, I now cut the two antennary stumps level with the skull. Finding nothing left to catch hold of at the familiar points, the insect seizes, close by, one of the victim’s long palpi and continues its hauling-work, without appearing at all perturbed by this change in the harness. I leave it alone. The prey is brought home and placed so that its head faces the entrance to the burrow; and the Wasp goes in by herself, to make a brief inspection of the inside of the cell before proceeding to warehouse the provisions. Her behaviour reminds us of that of the Yellow-winged Sphex in similar circumstances. I take advantage of this short moment to seize the abandoned prey, remove all its palpi and place it a little farther off, about half a yard from the burrow. The Sphex reappears and goes straight to her captive, whom she has seen from her threshold. She looks at the top of the head, she looks underneath, on either side, and finds nothing to take hold of. A desperate attempt is made: the Wasp, opening wide her mandibles, tries to grab the Ephippiger by the head; but the pincers have not a sufficient compass to take in so large a bulk and they slip off the round, polished skull. She makes several fresh endeavours, each time without result. She is at length convinced of the uselessness of her efforts. She draws back a little to one side and appears to be renouncing further attempts. One would say that she was discouraged; at least, she smooths her wings with her hind-legs, while with her front tarsi, which she first puts into her mouth, she washes her eyes. This, so it has always seemed to me, is a sign in Hymenoptera of giving up a job.