Social life in the insect world / by J.H. Fabre ; translated by Bernard Miall.

  • Jean-Henri Fabre
Date:
1937
Catalogue details

Licence: In copyright

Credit: Social life in the insect world / by J.H. Fabre ; translated by Bernard Miall. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    length is about one-tenth of an inch, their diameter about one-fiftieth. They are packed in a row slightly overlapping one another. The eggs of the Cacan are slightly smaller, and are assembled in regular groups which remind one of microscopical bundles of cigars. We will consider the eggs of the common Cigale to the exclusion of the others, as their history is the history of all. September is not yet over when the shining white as of ivory gives way to the yellow hue of cheese. During the first days of October you may see, at the forward end of the egg, two tiny points of chestnut brown, which are the eyes of the embryo in formation. These two shining eyes, which almost seem to gaze at one, and the cone-shaped head of the egg, give it the look of a tiny fish without fins—a fish for whom half a nut-shell would make a capacious aquarium. About the same time I notice frequently, on the asphodels in the paddock and on those of the neighbouring hills, certain indications that the eggs have recently hatched out. There are certain cast-off articles of clothing, certain rags and tatters, left on the threshold of the egg-chamber by the new-born grubs as they leave it and hurry in search of a new lodging. We shall see in a moment what these vestiges mean. But in spite of my visits, which were so assiduous as to deserve success, I had never contrived to see the young Cigales emerge from their egg-chambers. My domestic researches had been pursued in vain. Two years running I had collected, in boxes, tubes, and bottles, a hundred twigs of every kind which were peopled by the eggs of the Cigale; but not one had shown me what I so desired to witness: the issue of the new-born Cigales. Réaumur experienced the same disappointment. He tells us how all the eggs supplied by his friend were abortive, even when he placed them in a glass tube thrust under his armpits, in order to keep them at a high tempera¬ ture. No, venerable master! neither the temperate shelter of our studies and laboratories, nor the incubating warmth of our bodies is sufficient here; we need the supreme stimulant, the kiss of the sun; after the cool of the morn¬ ings, which are already sharp, the sudden blaze of the superb autumn weather, the last endearments of summer.
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