betray no uneasiness. The fact is that the
Tachina's children display an infernal judgment in their first
actions. Until the moment when they are ready for the transformation,
their portion of game has to hold out, must be kept fresh and alive.
They therefore gorge themselves with the reserves intended for future
use, the fats, the savings which the Crioceris hoards in view of the
remodelling whence the perfect insect will emerge; they consume what
is not essential to the life of the moment and are very careful not to
touch the organs which are indispensable at the present time. If these
received a bite, the host would die and so would they. Towards the end
of their growth, prudence and discretion being no longer essential,
they make a complete clearance of the victim, leaving only the skin,
which will serve them for a shelter.

One satisfaction is vouchsafed me in these horrible orgies: I see that
the Tachina in her turn is subjected to severe reductions. How many
were there on the larva's back? Perhaps eight, ten or more. One Midge,
never more than one, comes out of the victim's skin, for the morsel is
too small to provide food for many. What has become of the others? Has
there been an internecine battle inside the poor wretch's body? Have
they eaten one another up, leaving only the strongest to survive, or
the one most favoured by the chances of the fight? Or has one of them,
earlier developed than the rest, found himself master of the
stronghold and have the others preferred to die outside rather than
enter a grub already occupied, where famine would be rife if the
messmates numbered even two? I am all for mutual extermination.
Kinsman's flesh or stranger's flesh must be all one to the fangs of
the vermin swarming in the Crioceris' belly.

Fierce though the competition is among these bandits, the Beetle's
race does not threaten to die out. I review the innumerable troop on
my asparagus-bed. A good half of them have Tachina-eggs plainly
visible as tiny white specks on their green skins. The blemished
larvae tell me of a paunch already or on the point of being invaded.
On the other hand, it is doubtful whether those which are unscathed
will all remain in that condition. The malefactor is incessantly
prowling around the green plumes, watching for a favourable
opportunity. Many larvae free from white spots to-day will show them
to-morrow or some other day, so long as the Fly's season lasts.

I estimate that the vast