I had often read of the earwig as an incubating insect, and much wished
to see for myself how she carried out her motherly instincts. One bright
May morning found me busily turning over stones, clinkers, and old
tree-roots in a fernery, which, having been long undisturbed, seemed a
likely spot for the nest I wished to find. There seemed no scarcity of
worms, wood-lice, centipedes, or beetles, but no earwigs could I see;
and I was just about to give up the search when, lifting a piece of
stone, I saw a small cavity, about as large as would contain a pea, and
in it lay about twenty-six round, white eggs, hard-shelled and shining,
of the size of a small pin's head. An earwig had placed herself over the
eggs, and I was delighted to think at last I had lighted upon the insect
mother I had been searching for. But what was to be done with her? How
could I watch the process of incubation? The difficulty was solved by
lifting the nest and its mother with a trowel and placing it in a saucer
under a tumbler, without any displacement of the eggs; thus the mother's
care could be conveniently watched. The earwig first carefully examined
her new home, touching each morsel of earth and stone with her antennæ;
and, having ascertained the exact condition of things, she set to work
to make a fresh nest, labouring with great industry until it was formed
to her mind. She then took up the eggs, one by one, with her mandibles,
and placed them in the new nest, arranging and rearranging them, until
at last she seemed content, and remained either upon or near them for
the rest of the day, quite motionless.
Every night, and sometimes two or three times in the day, she would
form fresh places in the earth, and replace the eggs. To prevent the
soil becoming too dry, I used to sprinkle a little water upon it--a drop
here and there--and if by accident the water fell too near the eggs, the
earwig became much excited, hurrying to and fro with her eggs, until
they were all removed to a drier spot. On the other hand, if I omitted
the water until the earth became dry, she would choose the dampest spot
that remained in which to form her nest, and seemed to welcome the
water-drops, drinking herself from them, and feeling the damp earth with
her antennæ. She remained thus for three weeks, feeding on little pieces
of beef or mutton, or an occasional fly; I did not then know that
earwigs are mostly vegetable feeders, but it is clear they can eat other
food when needful. The first time I dropped a newly-killed house-fly
near her she looked at it intently, felt it with her antennæ, and then
suddenly wheeled round and pinched it with her forceps, and being
apparently satisfied that it could do no harm to her eggs, she began to
devour it, and after an hour or two but little remained except the
wings.
As it was early in the year, but few insects could be seen, but by
searching in the conservatory I found a large green aphis, which I gave
to the earwig. To my surprise, instead of devouring it at once, she
applied herself to one of the projecting tubes of the aphis, and
evidently sucked its sweet secretion, and enjoyed it as much and in the
same way as ants are said to do. She feasted thus for four or five
minutes, but I am sorry to add that, unlike the humane ants, who care
tenderly for their aphides and preserve their lives by kind treatment,
the earwig ended by munching up the unfortunate aphis, till not a trace
of it was left.
At the end of three weeks I found one morning all the eggs were hatched,
and tiny, snow-white earwigs, with forceps and antennæ fully developed,
were creeping about and around their mother. I placed a slice of pear in
the saucer, upon which the little ones swarmed, and seemed to find it
congenial food. In a few days they increased to nearly double their size
when first hatched, and turned a light brown colour. Having ascertained
all I wished to know about the maternal instincts of the earwig, I
released the mother and her family, and no doubt she was happy enough to
return to her old haunt in the fernery, and would greatly prefer
tree-roots and stones to my tumbler-and-saucer arrangement.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: EGYPTIAN BEETLES.]