he weevil, and
before that of the yellow-winged Sphex, the slayer of crickets, there
is plenty of distraction, owing to the busy movements of the community.
The mothers have scarcely entered the nest before they are off again,
returning quickly with fresh prey, only to set out once more. The going
and coming is almost continuous until the storehouse is full.

The burrows of the Philanthus know nothing of such animation, even in a
populous colony. In vain my vigils prolonged themselves into whole
mornings or afternoons, and only very rarely does the mother who has
entered with a bee set forth upon a second expedition. Two captures by
the same huntress is the most that I have seen in my long watches. Once
the family is provided with sufficient food for the moment the mother
postpones further hunting trips until hunting becomes necessary, and
busies herself with digging and burrowing in her underground dwelling.
Little cells are excavated, and I see the rubbish from them gradually
pushed up to the surface. With that exception there is no sign of
activity; it is as though the burrow were deserted.

To lay the nest bare is not easy. The burrow penetrates to a depth of
about three feet in a compact soil; sometimes in a vertical, sometimes
in a horizontal direction. The spade and pick, wielded by hands more
vigorous but less expert than my own, are indispensable; but the conduct
of the excavation is anything but satisfactory. At the extremity of the
long gallery--it seems as though the straw I use for sounding would
never reach the end--we finally discover the cells, egg-shaped cavities
with the longer axis horizontal. Their number and their mutual
disposition escape me.

Some already contain the cocoon--slender and translucid, like that of
the Cerceris, and, like it, recalling the shape of certain
homoeopathic phials, with oval bodies surmounted by a tapering neck.
By the extremity of the neck, which is blackened and hardened by the
dejecta of the larvae, the cocoon is fixed to the end of the cell without
any other support. It reminds one of a short club, planted by the end of
the handle, in a line with the horizontal axis of the cell. Other cells
contain the larva in a stage more or less advanced. The grub is eating
the last victim proffered; around it lie the remains of food already
consumed. Others, again, show me a bee, a single bee, still intact, and
having an egg deposited on the under-side of the thorax. This bee
re