compared with England very much larger; perhaps more so than with any
other division of the articulate animals. The variety of species among
the jumping spiders appears almost infinite. The genus, or rather
family of Epeira, is here characterized by many singular forms; some
species have pointed coriaceous shells, others enlarged and spiny
tibiae. Every path in the forest is barricaded with the strong yellow
web of a species belonging to the same division with the Epeira
clavipes of Fabricius, which was formerly said by Sloane to make, in
the West Indies, webs so strong as to catch birds. A small and pretty
kind of spider, with very long forelegs, and which appears to belong
to an undescribed genus, lives as a parasite on almost every one of
these webs. I suppose it is too insignificant to be noticed by the
great Epeira, and is therefore allowed to prey on the minute insects,
which, adhering to the lines, would, otherwise be wasted. When
frightened, this little spider either feigns death by extending its
front legs, or suddenly drops from the web. A large Epeira of the same
division with Epeira tuberculata and conica is extremely common,
especially in dry situations. Its web, which is generally placed among
the great leaves of the common agave, is sometimes strengthened near
the centre by a pair or even four zigzag ribbons, which connect two
adjoining rays. When any large insect, as a grasshopper or wasp, is
caught, the spider by a dexterous movement, makes it revolve very
rapidly, and at the same time emitting a band of threads from its
spinners, soon envelops its prey in a case like the cocoon of a silk
worm. The spider now examines the powerless victim, and gives the
fatal bite on the hinder part of its thorax; then retreating,
patiently waits till the poison has taken effect. The virulence of
this poison may be judged from the fact that in half a minute I opened
the mesh, and found a large wasp quite lifeless. This Epeira always
stands with its head downwards near the centre of the web. When
disturbed, it acts differently according to circumstances: if there is
a thicket below, it suddenly falls down; and I have distinctly seen
the thread from the spinners lengthened by the animal while yet
stationary, as preparatory to its fall. If the ground is clear
beneath, the Epeira seldom falls, but moves quickly through a central
passage from one side to the other. When still further disturbed, it
practises a most curious manoeuvre: Standing in the middle, it
violently jerks the web, which is attached to elastic twigs, till at
last the whole acquires such a rapid vibratory movement, that even the
outline of the spider's body becomes indistinct.
[Illustration: FOUR DIFFERENT SPIDERS.]
It is well known that most of the British spiders, when a large insect
is caught in their webs, endeavor to cut the lines and liberate their
prey, to save their nests from being entirely spoiled. I once,
however, saw in a hot-house in Shropshire a large female wasp caught
in the irregular web of a quite small spider; and this spider, instead
of cutting the web, most perseveringly continued to entangle the body,
and especially the wings, of its prey. The wasp at first aimed in vain
repeated thrusts with its sting at its little antagonist. Pitying the
wasp, after allowing it to struggle for more than an hour, I killed it
and put it back into the web. The spider soon returned; and an hour
afterwards I was much surprised to find it with its jaws buried in the
orifice, through which the sting is protruded by the living wasp. I
drove the spider away two or three times, but for the next twenty-four
hours I always found it again sucking at the same place. The spider
became much distended by the juices of its prey, which was many times
larger than itself.
I may here just mention, that I found near St. Fe Bajada, many large
black spiders, with ruby-colored marks on their backs, having
gregarious habits. The webs were placed vertically, as is invariably
the case with the genus Epeira; they were separated from each other by
a space of about two feet, but were all attached to certain common
lines, which were of great length, and extended to all parts of the
community. In this manner the tops of some large bushes were
encompassed by the united nets. Azara has described a gregarious
spider in Paraguay, which Walckenaer thinks must be a Theridion, but
probably it is an Epeira, and perhaps even the same species with mine.
I cannot, however, recollect seeing a central nest as large as a hat,
in which, during autumn, when the spiders die, Azara says the eggs are
deposited. As all the spiders which I saw were of the same size, they
must have been nearly of the same age. This gregarious habit, in so
typical a genus as Epeira, among insects, which are so bloodthirsty
and solitary that even the two sexes attack each other, is a very
singular fact.
[Illustration: JUMPING SPIDER.]
WHAT I SAW IN AN ANT'S NEST
(FROM FACTS AND FICTIONS OF ZOOeLOGY.)
BY ANDREW WILSON.
[Illustration: NEST OF TERMITES.]
Amongst those spectacles and incidents in human existence which remain
fixed on the memory of the spectator from their sad or unwonted
nature, that of a panic-stricken crowd, gathered by the report of some
national disaster, stands pre-eminent. Still more terrible in its
details is the history of some catastrophe which has laid a city in
ruins and wrought death and desolation to thousands of the
inhabitants. A deadly epidemic, or fatal plague, searing a nation with
its dread, mysterious power, is a calamity appalling enough; but the
spectacle of a city overthrown at one fell swoop by the earthquake
shock may perhaps rank foremost amongst the untoward incidents which
environ the sphere of man. A certain event, occurring during a recent
holiday by the sea, tended forcibly to impress upon the mind that the
great catastrophes of life are not limited to humanity's special
sphere, and that in lower life panic and alarm seem to exercise no
small influence, as in man's estate; whilst the incident referred to
also afforded food for reflection on topics not far removed from some
weighty matters in the history of man's own nature and constitution.
In this latter view, it is especially hoped the observations of a
brief period of leisure-time may not be without their due meed of
interest.
The chance removal from its secure site, of a large stone placed in
close proximity to the sea-beach, where the bliss of idleness was
being fully exemplified by a small party of holiday-makers, proved, on
close examination, to be the cause of a literal revolution in lower
life. Imagine a city to be totally unroofed, try to conceive of the
sudden downfall of houses and buildings, and the consequent panic of
the inhabitants, and you may obtain an idea of the disturbance on
simple procedure effected in the peaceable, well-ordered colony of
ants which had located themselves securely beneath the friendly
shelter of the stone. The scene presented to view was one of the most
curious and interesting which could engage the attention of an
observer in any field of inquiry, and the occurrence certainly
banished the idle mood of the time, and lent a zest to the subsequent
hours of our holiday. Running hither and thither in wild confusion
were the denizens of this underground colony; their six little legs
carrying their curious globular bodies backward and forward over the
disturbed area from which the stone had been removed. At first the
movements of the ants were extremely erratic and purposeless. Panic
and alarm appeared to be the order of the day during the few minutes
which elapsed after removal of the stone. But soon the eye could
discern movements of purposive kind on the part of the alarmed
residents. There was "racing and chasing" in all directions: but the
ants which had at first radiated from the centre of disturbance, as if
on some definite quest, soon returned thereunto, and continued to
advance and retire from the field of action with tolerable regularity.
Not less than sixty or seventy ants appeared to be engaged in this
labor of scouring the country around. The object of their repeated
journeys in all directions was soon discovered. They were the
self-appointed scouts, engaged in the work of reconnoitring. Such at
least is a fair interpretation of the acts of the ants, and such also
is the conclusion borne out by the subsequent course of events. For,
after the scouts had spent a considerable time in their rapid journeys
to the environments of the nest, a new set of ants appeared upon the
scene, destined to perform a highly important series of labors.
The scouts continued their journeyings, and gave one the idea of a set
of fussy individuals who were superintending, or even bullying, their
new neighbors, who appeared from amongst the ruins and debris of the
ant city, carrying in their mouths certain oval bodies of a
dirty-white color, and measuring each about one-third of an inch in
length. Each of these bodies closely resembled a grain of corn in
shape, size, and appearance. The spectacle of these small insects
carrying off these bodies in their powerful jaws impressed one
forcibly with the idea that, relatively to its size, an ant is an
herculean insect.
Occasionally there might be seen certain rather ludicrous incidents
connected with the removal of the objects in question. One ant might
be witnessed in the endeavor to hoist the oval body it was carrying in
its mouth over some obstacle lying in the path, and the staggering
gait of the insect seemed very accurately to mimic the similar
disposition of a human porter struggling under a burdensome load.
Another ant, carrying the oval body before it, would arrive at a steep
incline formed of loose sand, and presenting a treacherous surface
even to the light feet of the insect. The efforts of the ant to carry
the body upward being found to be fruitless, the insect might be seen
to whirl about with great rapidity of action, and ascend the hill
backward, pulling the body after it, instead of pushing it as before.
Another instance might be witnessed in which an ant which had
literally come to grief with its burden would be assisted by a kindly
neighbor; but it was no uncommon sight to behold in the excessive
eagerness of the insects an actual means of defeating the object they
had in view, since two ants would in some cases seize the same burden,
and then came the tug of war. One pulled one way whilst the other
tugged in the opposite direction; and the observer could almost have
supposed that the burden itself might have been parted in twain by the
treatment to which it was subjected--the incident affording a new
application of the remark that a surfeit of zeal is destructive of the
best intentions. The nature of the bodies which the ants seemed so
excessively anxious to preserve from injury was readily determined.
The oval bodies, resembling grains of corn, were the _pupae_ or
_chrysalides_ of the ants--the sleeping babies and young hopefuls, on
whom the hopes of the colony were, and I may say, are, founded. It is
noteworthy, however, that upon some mistaken notions regarding the
nature of these bodies many of the ideas concerning the frugal care of
these insects were founded. Solomon's advice that the sluggard should
"go to the ant," with the view of considering her ways and gaining
wisdom as a result of the study, was in days of old thought to be
approved by the observation that the ants husbanded their stores of
food in the shape of the grains of corn they had gained from the
autumnal store. There can be little doubt that some species of ants do
store food; but their praiseworthy actions in this direction have been
greatly exaggerated, and there appears, indeed, to be some danger of
idle persons being prepared with the retort to the wise man, that the
ant is by no means the model creature he thought her to be. If,
however, the supposed corn-grains turn out to be the rising generation
of ants in their chrysalis-state, it may be said that what the ants
may have lost in the way of fame in this direction has been amply
compensated for by the discovery of more wonderful traits of character
than Solomon could possibly have dreamt of.
The work of removing the developing population thus appeared in our
ant's nest to absorb the entire energies of the alarmed denizens. Pupa
after pupa was carried out from amongst the debris and taken for a
considerable distance--certainly fifteen inches--to a place of
security, beneath a small sloping stone of flat shape, which roofed
over a hollow in the ground. So far as I could observe, the scouts
must have discovered this place of refuge, and have communicated the
intelligence to their neighbors. The regularity with which the
slumbering innocents were conveyed to the same spot would appear to
point to concerted work and to a definite idea, if one may so term it,
having animated the laborers. I was careful to ascertain at an early
stage of the proceedings that the place of refuge had no
communications with the nest. It was, in point of fact, an entirely
new habitation, and, as far as human judgment might venture upon an
opinion, the new residence appeared to give promise of being a safe
and convenient domicile. Now and then an ant would emerge from the
ruins of the nest carrying a younger hopeful in the larva or
caterpillar stage. This latter was a little white grub, which
corresponds in its development to the grub or caterpillar of the
butterfly or fly; the ants thus exemplifying insects which undergo a
complete "metamorphosis." It was rather a difficult matter to
ascertain clearly if the ants were actually excavating the chrysalides
from amongst the debris. Bearing in mind what Sir John Lubbock has
told us concerning the apparent inability of ants to discover the
whereabouts of companions buried under earth, I rather lean to the
belief that my ants simply conveyed to a place of safety those
chrysalides which were at hand and readily obtainable. The latter fact
I could not ascertain, since I feared to disturb the ants at their
interesting labors; but a simple experiment served to show the
feasibility of the idea that the chrysalides were probably within
easy reach of the ants.
Taking possession of one chrysalis which was being conveyed to the new
domicile, I buried it about half an inch deep in the sand, directly in
the track over which the ants were journeying to their new residence,
and a second chrysalis I placed at a little distance from this track,
but in a spot over which numerous ants were running apparently without
any definite aim. The second pupa ant was not buried in any sense, and
was covered merely with a sprinkling of sand. The result in both cases
was negative. No attempt was made to disinter the chrysalis from the
beaten track, although numberless ants walked directly over it; and I
extricated the chrysalis five hours after its interment, and when the
busy scene of the morning had been replaced by a dull prospect, over
which only a single ant now and then hurried in a rapid fashion. The
other chrysalis was also unnoticed, despite its proximity to the
surface of the sand. Whether or not ants want a sense of smell or
other means of guiding them to the whereabouts of their neighbors or
children, is a subject difficult of determination either toward a
positive or negative result. And I am the more inclined to wonder at
the incapacity of the insects to discover their buried companions,
since they appear to be perfectly capable of detecting them at a
considerable distance above ground. When a chrysalis was placed in a
spot remote from the nest, and an ant placed within a foot or so of
the chrysalis, the insect would occasionally seem to be attracted to
the neighborhood of the object. I frequently observed that if an ant
happened to crawl within two or three inches of the chrysalis as it
lay on the ground, it appeared to become conscious of the object,
although at the same time it seemed ignorant of its precise locality.
In such a case the insect would proceed hither and thither in an
erratic fashion, but would continue to hover or rotate around the
chrysalis until it seized the object and bore it off in triumph in its
jaws. Relatively to the size of the ant, we must consider this latter
incident by no means a slight tribute to its acuteness.
The busy scene resulting from the disturbance of the nest proceeded
actively during at least two hours. The nest appeared to be by no
means a large one. At the end of two hours, however, the ants were
still rushing hither and thither, bent on errands unknown to their
observers, although the work of conveying the chrysalides had at the
lapse of the period just mentioned entirely ceased. Five and a half
hours after the nest had been alarmed, not an ant was visible over the
disturbed area, and our next task was that of investigating the manner
in which the insects had dispersed themselves and their belongings in
their new habitation by carefully removing the flat sloping stone
already mentioned as that beneath which the main stream of the ants
had disappeared. Not an insect was to be seen after this operation was
performed, and it was only after the removal of several small stones
which lay below the flat stone that the colony in its new sphere was
brought into view. Our investigation once again excited the restless
beings. Then ensued, for the second time, the seizure of the
chrysalides, which, however, were to be seen packed together in a
secure position and already partly covered with particles of earth
and sand. To have reached the position in which we found them, the
insects must have descended at least three inches after entering below
the stone, and the labor of the continual ascent in search of fresh
chrysalides must therefore have been of no light kind. We saw enough
to convince us that the ants had already settled down in a new
organization, which, with an undisturbed history, might repeat the
peaceful state of their former life; and we also had the thought
presented, that in the exercise of their duties under the pressure of
an unwonted exigency, the insect behaved and acted with no small
degree of intelligence, and apparently in harmonious concert to the
desired end.
But the thoughts suggested by the brief observation of the disturbed
ant's nest hardly end thus. We may very naturally proceed to inquire
into the regular organization and constitution of the ant colony, and
also, as far as fact and theory may together lead, into the
analogies--if analogies there be--which exist between the social
instincts of ants and the ways of the higher animals, man included.
[Illustration: FIG. 1. 1, Winged termite; 2, wingless termite; 3,
soldier; 4, worker; 5, female swollen with eggs.]
The common ants and their neighbors belong to the order of insects
known as the _Hymenoptera_, a group represented by other insects of
"social" habits, such as bees, wasps, and hornets. The termites, or
white ants of the tropics, are the only "ants" foreign to this order
of insects, the white ants being near relations of the dragonflies,
may-flies, etc. The family history of the latter, as told by Mr.
Bates, may serve to introduce us agreeably to ant society at large.
The nests of the termites may attain a height of five feet, and
present the appearance of conical hillocks, formed of earth particles
"worked," says Mr. Bates, "with a material as hard as stone." In the
neighborhood of the nests, narrow covered galleries or underground
ways are everywhere to be seen, these latter being the passages along
which the materials used for building the nests are conveyed. The
termites are small soft-bodied animals of a pale color, but resemble
the common or true ants in that they live in colonies, composed, like
those of bees, of three chief grades of individuals. These grades are
known as males, females, and blind "neuters," the latter forming at
once the largest bulk of the population, and including in their
numbers the true "working classes" of this curious community. In the
common ants, the "neuters" are regarded as being Undeveloped female
insects. These neuters exhibit in the termites a further division into
ordinary "workers" (Figs. 1, 4), which perform the multifarious duties
connected with the ordinary life of the colony, and "soldiers" (3),
which perfectly exemplify the laws of military organization in higher
life, in that they have no part in the common labor, but devote
themselves entirely to the defence of the colony and to the
"Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war."
The workers appear to perform a never-ending round of duties. They
build the nests, make the roads, attend to the wants of the young,
train up the latter in the ways of ant existence, wait on the
sovereigns of the nest, and like diplomatic courtiers, duly arrange
for the royal marriages of the future. As Mr. Bates remarks, "The
wonderful part in the history of the termites is, that not only is
there a rigid division of labor, but nature has given to each class a
structure of body adapting it to the kind of labor it has to perform.
The males and females form a class apart; they do no kind of work, but
in the course of growth acquire wings to enable them to issue forth
and disseminate their kind. The workers and soldiers are wingless, and
differ solely in the shape and armature of the head. This member in
the laborers is smooth and rounded, the mouth being adapted for the
working of the materials in building the hive. In the soldier the head
is of very large size, and is provided in almost every kind with
special organs of offence and defence in the form of horny processes
resembling pikes, tridents, and so forth.... The course of human
events in our day seems, unhappily, to make it more than ever
necessary for the citizens of civilized and industrious communities to
set apart a numerous armed class for the protection of the rest; in
this, nations only do what nature has of old done for the termites.
The soldier termite, however, has not only the fighting instinct and
function; he is constructed as a soldier, and carries his weapons not
in his hand but growing out of his body." When a colony of termites is
disturbed, the ordinary citizens disappear and the military are called
out. "The soldiers mounted the breach," says Mr. Bates, "to cover the
retreat of the workers," when a hole was made in the archway of one
of their covered roads, and with military precision the rearmen fall
into the vacant places in the front ranks as the latter are emptied by
the misfortune of war.
[Illustration: FIG. 2. THE QUEEN ANT; AND THE WORKERS CARRYING AWAY
THE EGGS.]