The Bird Builds Her Nest And Carefully Provides For The Comfort
Of Her Young Long Ere She Lays Her Fragile Egg.
Even look at
that vulgar-looking beetle, whose coarse form would banish the
idea of any rational feeling existing
In its brain - the
Billingsgate fish-woman of its tribe in coarseness and rudeness
of exterior (Scarabaeus carnifex) - see with what quickness she
is running backward, raised almost upon her head, while with her
bind legs she trundles a large ball; herself no bigger than a
nutmeg, the ball is four times the size. There she goes along the
smooth road. The ball she has just manufactured from some
fresh-dropped horse-dung; it is as round as though turned by a
lathe, and, although the dung has not lain an hour upon the
ground, she and her confederates have portioned out the spoil,
and each has started off with her separate ball. Not a particle
of horsedung remains upon the road. Now she has rolled the ball
away from the hard road, and upon the soft, sandy border she has
stopped to rest. No great amount of rest; she plunges her head
into the ground, and with that shovel-like projection of stout
horn she mines her way below: she has disappeared even in these
few seconds.
Presently the apparently deserted ball begins to move, as though
acted on by some subterranean force; gradually it sinks to the
earth, and it vanishes altogether.
Some persons might imagine that she feeds upon the ordure, and
that she has buried her store as a dog hides a bone; but this is
not the case; she has formed a receptacle for her eggs, which she
deposits in the ball of dung, the warmth of which assists in
bringing the larvae into life, which then feed upon the manure.
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