observations on the maternal affection exhibited by the common earwig.
This curious insect so unjustly traduced by a vulgar prejudice,--as
if the Creator had willed that the insect world should combine
within itself examples of all that is most remarkable in every other
department of nature,--still more nearly approaches the habits of the
hen in her care of her family. She absolutely sits upon her eggs as if
to hatch them--a fact which Frisch appears first to have noticed--and
guards them with the greatest care. De Geer, having found an earwig
thus occupied, removed her into a box where was some earth, and
scattered the eggs in all directions. She soon, however, collected them
one by one with her jaws into a heap, and assiduously sat upon them as
before. The young ones, which resemble the parent except in wanting
elytra and wings, and, strange to say, are as soon as born larger
than the eggs which contained them, immediately upon being hatched
creep like a brood of chickens under the belly of the mother, who very
quietly suffers them to push between her feet, and will often, as De
Geer found, sit over them in this posture for some hours[682]. This
remarkable fact I have myself witnessed, having found an earwig under
a stone which I accidentally turned over, sitting upon a cluster of
young ones just as this celebrated naturalist has described.
We are so accustomed to associate the ideas of cruelty and ferocity
with the name of spider, that to attribute parental affection to any
of the tribe seems at first view almost preposterous. Who indeed
could suspect that animals which greedily devour their own species
whenever they have opportunity, should be susceptible of the finer
feelings? Yet such is the fact. There is a spider common under clods
of earth (_Lycosa saccata_) which may at once be distinguished by a
white globular silken bag about the size of a pea, in which she has
deposited her eggs, attached to the extremity of her body. Never
miser clung to his treasure with more tenacious solicitude than this
spider to her bag. Though apparently a considerable incumbrance, she
carries it with her every where. If you deprive her of it, she makes
the most strenuous efforts for its recovery; and no personal danger
can force her to quit the precious load. Are her efforts ineffectual?
A stupefying melancholy seems to seize her, and when deprived of this
first object of her cares, existence itself appears to have lost
its charms. If she succeeds in regaining her bag, or you restore it
to her, her actions demonstrate the excess of her joy. She eagerly
seizes it, and with the utmost agility runs off with it to a place
of security. Bonnet put this wonderful attachment to an affecting
and decisive test. He threw a spider with her bag into the cavern of
a large ant-lion, a ferocious insect which conceals itself at the
bottom of a conical hole constructed in the sand for the purpose
of catching any unfortunate victim that may chance to fall in. The
spider endeavoured to run away, but was not sufficiently active to
prevent the ant-lion from seizing her bag of eggs, which it attempted
to pull under the sand. She made the most violent efforts to defeat
the aim of her invisible foe, and on her part struggled with all her
might. The gluten, however, which fastened her bag, at length gave
way, and it separated: but the spider instantly regained it with
her jaws, and redoubled her efforts to rescue the prize from her
opponent. It was in vain: the ant-lion was the stronger of the two,
and in spite of all her struggles dragged the object of contestation
under the sand. The unfortunate mother might have preserved her own
life from the enemy: she had but to relinquish the bag, and escape
out of the pit. But, wonderful example of maternal affection! she
preferred allowing herself to be buried alive along with the treasure
dearer to her than her existence; and it was only by force that
Bonnet at length withdrew her from the unequal conflict. But the
bag of eggs remained with the assassin: and though he pushed her
repeatedly with a twig of wood, she still persisted in continuing on
the spot. Life seemed to have become a burthen to her, and all her
pleasures to have been buried in the grave which contained the germe
of her progeny[683]! The attachment of this affectionate mother is
not confined to her eggs. After the young spiders are hatched, they
make their way out of the bag by an orifice, which she is careful to
open for them, and without which they could never escape[684]; and
then, like the young of the Surinam toad (_Rana pipa_), they attach
themselves in clusters upon her back, belly, head, and even legs; and
in this situation, where they present a very singular appearance,
she carries them about with her and feeds them until their first
moult, when they are big enough to provide their own subsistence. I
have more than once been gratified by a sight of this interesting
spectacle; and when I nearly touched the mother, thus covered by
hundreds of her progeny, it was most amusing to see them all leap
from her back and run away in every direction.
A similar attachment to their eggs and young is manifested by many
other species of the same tribe, particularly of the genera _Lycosa_
and _Dolomeda_. _Clubiona holosericea_ was found by De Geer in her nest
with fifty or sixty young ones, when manifesting nothing of her usual
timidity, so obstinately did she persist in remaining with them, that
to drive her away it was necessary to cut her whole nest in pieces[685].
* * * * *
I must now conduct you to a hasty survey of those insects which live
together in societies and fabricate dwellings for the community,
such as _ants_, _wasps_, _bees_, _humble-bees_, and _termites_,
whose great object (sometimes combined indeed with the storing up of
a stock of winter provisions for themselves) is the nutrition and
education of their young. Of the proceedings of many of these insects
we know comparatively nothing. There are, it is likely, some hundreds
of distinct species of bees which live in societies, and form nests
of a different and peculiar construction. The constitution of these
societies is probably as various as the exterior forms of their
nests, and their habits possibly curious in the highest degree; yet
our knowledge is almost confined to the economy of the hive-bee and
of some species of humble-bees. The same may be said of wasps, ants,
and termites, of which, though there is a vast variety of different
kinds, we are acquainted with the history of but a very few. You
will not therefore expect more than a sketch of the most interesting
traits of affection for their young, manifested by the common species
of each genus.
One circumstance must be premised with regard to the education
of the young of most of those insects which live in society,
truly extraordinary, and without parallel in any other department
of nature: namely, that this office, except under particular
circumstances, is not undertaken by the female which has given birth
to them, but by the workers, or neuters as they are sometimes called,
which, though bound to the offspring of the common mother of the
society by no other than fraternal ties, exhibit towards them all the
marks of the most ardent parental affection, building habitations
for their use, feeding them and tending them with incessant
solicitude, and willingly sacrificing their lives in defence of
the precious charge. Thus sterility itself is made an instrument
of the preservation and multiplication of species; and females too
fruitful to educate all their young, are indulged by Providence with
a privilege without which nine tenths of their progeny must perish.
The most determined despiser of insects and their concerns--he who
never deigned to open his eyes to any other part of their economy--must
yet have observed, even in spite of himself, the remarkable attachment
which the inhabitants of a disturbed nest of _ants_ manifest towards
certain small white oblong bodies with which it is usually stored.
He must have perceived that the ants are much less intently occupied
with providing for their own safety, than in carrying off these
little bodies to a place of security. To effect this purpose the whole
community is in motion, and no danger can divert them from attempting
its accomplishment. An observer having cut an ant in two, the poor
mutilated animal did not relax in its affectionate exertions. With that
half of the body to which the head remained attached, it contrived
previously to expiring to carry off ten of these white masses into the
interior of the nest! You will readily divine that these attractive
objects are the young of the ants in one of the first or imperfect
states. They are in fact not the eggs, as they are vulgarly called, but
the pupæ, which the working ants tend with the most patient assiduity.
But I must give you a more detailed account of their operations,
beginning with the actual eggs.
These, which are so small as to be scarcely visible to the naked eye,
as soon as deposited by the queen ant, who drops them at random in
her progress through the nest, are taken charge of by the workers,
who immediately seize them and carry them in their mouths, in small
parcels, incessantly turning them backwards and forwards with their
tongue for the purpose of moistening them, without which they would
come to nothing. They then lay them in heaps, which they place in
separate apartments[686], and constantly tend until hatched into larvæ;
frequently in the course of the day removing them from one quarter of
the nest to another, as they require a warmer or cooler, a moister or
drier atmosphere; and at intervals brooding over them as if to impart
a genial warmth[687]. Experiments have been made to ascertain whether
these assiduous nurses could distinguish their eggs if intermixed with
particles of salt and sugar, which to an ordinary observer they very
much resemble; but the result was constantly in favour of the sagacity
of the ants. They invariably selected the eggs from whatever materials
they were mixed with, and re-arranged them as before[688].
New and more severe labours succeed the birth of the young grubs
which are disclosed from the eggs after a few days. The working ants
are now almost without remission engaged in supplying their wants
and forwarding their growth. Every evening an hour before sunset
they regularly remove the whole brood, as well as the eggs and pupæ,
which in an old nest all require attention at the same time, to cells
situated lower down in the earth, where they will be safe from the
cold; and in the morning they as constantly remove them again towards
the surface of the nest. If, however, there is a prospect of cold
or wet weather, the provident ants forbear on that day transporting
their young from the inner cells, aware that their tender frames are
unable to withstand an inclement sky. What is particularly worthy
of notice in this herculean task, the ants constantly regulate
their proceedings by the sun, removing their young according to the
earlier or later rising and setting of that luminary. As soon as his
first rays begin to shine on the exterior of the nest, the ants that
are at the top go below in great haste to rouse their companions,
whom they strike with their antennæ, or, when they do not seem to
comprehend them, drag with their jaws to the summit till a swarm of
busy labourers fill every passage. These take up the larvæ and pupæ,
which they hastily transport to the upper part of their habitation,
where they leave them a quarter of an hour, and then carry them into
apartments where they are sheltered from the sun's direct rays[689].
Severe as this constant and unremitted daily labour seems, it is but
a small part of what the affection of the working ants leads them
readily to undertake. The _feeding_ of the young brood, which rests
solely upon them, is a more serious charge. The nest is constantly
stored with larvæ the year round, during all which time, except
in winter when the whole society is torpid, they require feeding
several times a day with a viscid half-digested fluid that the
workers disgorge into their mouths, which when hungry they stretch
out to meet those of their nurses. Add to which, that in an old nest
there are generally two distinct broods of different ages requiring
separate attention; and that the observations of Huber make it
probable that at one period they require a more substantial food
than at another. It is true that the youngest brood at first want
but little nutriment: but still, when we consider that they must not
be neglected, that the older brood demand incessant supplies, and
in a well stocked nest amount to 7 or 8000; and that the task of
satisfying all these cravings, as well as providing for their own
subsistence, falls to the lot of the working ants, we are almost
ready to regard the burthen as greater than can be borne by such
minute agents; and we shall not wonder at the incessant activity with
which we see them foraging on every side.
Their labour does not end here. It is necessary that the larvæ should
be kept extremely clean; and for this purpose the ants are perpetually
passing their tongue and mandibles over their body, rendering them by
this means perfectly white[690]. After the young grubs have attained
their full growth, they surround themselves with a silken cocoon and
become pupæ, which, food excepted, require as much attention as in the
larva state. Every morning they are transported from the bottom of
the nest to the surface, and every evening returned to their former
quarters. And if, as is often the case, the nest be thrown into ruins
by the unlucky foot of a passing animal, in addition to all these
daily and hourly avocations, is superadded the immediate necessity of
collecting the pupæ from the earth with which they have been mixed, and
of restoring the nest to its pristine state[691].
Nothing can be more curious than the view of the interior of a fully
peopled ants' nest in summer. In one part are stored the eggs; in
another the pupæ are heaped up by hundreds in spacious apartments;
and in a third we see the larvæ surrounded by the workers, some of
which feed them, while others keep guard, standing erect upon their
hind legs with their abdomen elevated in the position for ejaculating
their acid, than which, gunpowder would not be more formidable to
the majority of their foes. Some again are occupied in cleaning the
alleys from obstructions of various kinds; and others rest in perfect
repose recruiting their strength for new labours.
Contrary to what is observed amongst other insects, even the
extrication of the young ants from the silken cocoon which incloses
them is imposed upon the workers, who are taught by some sensation to
us incomprehensible, that the perfect insect is now ready to burst
from the shroud, but too weak to effect its purpose unaided. When
the workers discover that this period has arrived, a great bustle
prevails in their apartment. Three or four mount upon one cocoon,
and with their mandibles begin to open it where the head lies.
First they pull off a few threads to render the place thinner; they
then make several small openings, and with great patience cut the
threads which separate them one by one, till an orifice is formed
sufficiently large for extracting the prisoner; which operation they
perform with the utmost gentleness. The ant is still enveloped in
its pellicle; this the workers also pull off, carefully disengaging
every member from its case, and nicely expanding the wings of such
as are furnished with them. After thus liberating and afterwards
feeding the new-born insects, they still for several days watch and
follow them every where, teaching them to unravel the paths and
winding labyrinths of the common habitation[692]; and when the males
and females at length take flight, these affectionate stepmothers
accompany them, mounting with them to the summit of the highest
herbs, showing the most tender solicitude for them, (some even
endeavour to retain them,) feeding them for the last time, caressing
them; and at length, when they rise into the air and disappear,
seeming to linger for some seconds over the footsteps of these
favoured beings, of whom they have taken such exemplary care, and
whom they will never behold again[693].
In the above account, exclusive of the bare fact of their laying the
eggs, no mention is made of the female ants, the real parents of the
republic. You are not from this to suppose that they never feel the
influence of this divine principle of love for their offspring. When,
indeed, a colony is established and peopled, they have enough to do
to furnish it with eggs to produce its necessary supply of future
females, males and workers; which, according to Gould, are laid at
three different seasons[694]. This is the ordinary duty assigned to
them by Providence. Yet at the first formation of a nest, the female
acts the kind part, and performs all the maternal offices which I
have just described as peculiar to the workers; and it is only when
these become sufficiently numerous to relieve her, that she resigns
this charge and devotes herself exclusively to oviposition[695].
There is one circumstance occurring at this period of their history,
which affords a very affecting example of the self-denial and
self-devotion of these admirable creatures. If you have paid any
attention to what is going forward in an ant-hill, you will have
observed some larger than the rest, which at first sight appear,
as well as the workers, to have no wings, but which upon a closer
examination exhibit a small portion of their base, or the sockets
in which they were inserted. These are females that have cast their
wings, not accidentally but by a _voluntary_ act. When an ant of
this sex first emerges from the pupa, she is adorned with two pair
of wings, the upper or outer pair being larger than her body. With
these, when a virgin, she is enabled to traverse the fields of ether,
surrounded by myriads of the other sex, who are candidates for her
favour. But when once connubial rites are celebrated the unhappy
husband dies, and the widowed bride seeks only how she may provide
for their mutual offspring. Panting no more to join the choir of
aërial dancers, her only thought is to construct a subterranean
abode in which she may deposit and attend to her eggs, and cherish
her embryo young, till, having passed through their various changes,
they arrive at their perfect state, and she can devolve upon them a
portion of her maternal cares. Her ample wings, which before were
her chief ornament and the instruments of her pleasure, are now an
incumbrance which incommode her in the fulfilment of the great duty
uppermost in her mind; she therefore, without a moment's hesitation,
plucks them from her shoulders. Might we not then address females who
have families, in words like those of Solomon, "Go to the ant, ye
_mothers_, consider her ways and be wise"?
M. P. Huber was more than once witness to this proceeding. He saw one
female stretch her wings with a strong effort so as to bring them
before her head--she then crossed them in all directions--next she
reversed them alternately on each side--at last, in consequence of
some violent contortions, the four wings fell at the same moment in
his presence. Another, in addition to these motions, used her legs to
assist in the work[696].
Thus, from the very moment of the extrusion of the egg to the
maturity of the perfect insect, are the ants unremittingly occupied
in the care of the young of the society, and that with an ardour of
affectionate attachment to which, when its intensity and duration are
taken into the account, we may fairly say there is nothing parallel
in the whole animal world[697]. Amongst birds and quadrupeds we have
instances of affection as strong perhaps while it lasts, but how much
shorter the period during which it is exerted! In a month or two
the young of the former require no further attention; and if in a
state of nature some of the latter give suck to their offspring for
a longer period, it is on their parts without effort or labour; and
in both cases the time given up to their young forms a very small
part of the life of the animal. But the little insects in question
not only spend a greater portion of time in the education of their
progeny, but devote even the whole of their existence, from their
birth to their death, to this one occupation!
The common hive-bee and the wasp in their attention to their young
exhibit the same general features. Both build for their reception
hexagonal cells, differing in size according to the future sex of the
included grubs, which as soon as hatched they both feed and assiduously
tend until their transformation into pupæ. There are peculiarities,
however, in their modes of procedure, which require a distinct notice.
The economy of a nest of _wasps_ differs from that of bees, in that
the eggs are laid not by a single mother or queen, but by several;
and that these mothers take the same care as the workers in feeding
the young grubs: indeed those first hatched are fed entirely by the
female which produced them, the solitary founder of the colony. The
sole survivor probably of a last year's swarm of many thousands,
this female, as soon as revived by the warmth of spring, proceeds
to construct a few cells, and deposits in them the eggs of working
wasps. The eggs are covered with a gluten, which fixes them so
strongly against the sides of the cells, that it is not easy to
separate them unbroken. These eggs seem to require care from the time
they are laid, for the wasps many times in a day put their heads into
the cells which contain them. When they are hatched, it is amusing to
witness the activity with which the female runs from cell to cell,
putting her head into those in which the grubs are very young, while
those that are more advanced in age thrust their heads out of their
cells, and by little movements seem to be asking for their food. As
soon as they receive their portion, they draw them back and remain
quiet. These she feeds until they become pupæ; and within twelve
hours after being excluded in their perfect state, they eagerly set
to work in constructing fresh cells, and in lightening the burthen of
their parent by assisting her in feeding the grubs of other workers
and females which are by this time born. In a few weeks the society
will have received an accession of several hundred workers and many
females, which without distinction apply themselves to provide food
for the growing grubs, now become exceedingly numerous. With this
object in view, as they collect little or no honey from flowers,
they are constantly engaged in predatory expeditions. One party will
attack a hive of bees, a grocer's sugar hogshead, or other saccharine
repository; or, if these fail, the juice of a ripe peach or pear. You
will be less indignant than formerly, at these audacious robbers now
you know that self is little considered in their attacks, and that
your ravaged fruit has supplied an exquisite banquet to the most
tender grubs of the nest, into whose extended mouths the successful
marauders, running with astonishing agility from one cell to another,
disgorge successively a small portion of their booty in the same way
that a bird supplies her young[698]. Another party is charged with
providing more substantial aliment for the grubs of maturer growth.
These wage war upon bees, flies, and even the meat of a butcher's
stall, and joyfully return to the nest laden with the well-filled
bodies of the former, or pieces of the latter as large as they can
carry. This solid food they distribute in like manner to the larger
grubs, which may be seen eagerly protruding their heads out of the
cells to receive the welcome meal. As wasps lay up no store of food,
these exertions are the task of every day during the summer, fresh
broods of grubs constantly succeeding to those which have become pupæ
or perfect insects; and in autumn, when the colony is augmented to 20
or 30,000, and the grubs in proportion, the scene of bustle which it
presents may be readily conceived.