Already you see what a magnificent classification of these game-hunters might be made with a faithfully listed bill of fare. Natural groups stand out, characterized merely by the identity of their victuals. I trust that the methodical science of the future will take account of these gastronomic laws, to the great relief of the entomological novice, who is too often hampered by the snares of the mouth-parts, the antennae and the nervures of the wings. I call for a classification in which the insect's aptitudes, its diet, its industry and its habits shall take precedence of the shape of a joint in its antennae. It will come; but when?
If from generalities we descend to details, we shall see that the very species may, in many instances, be determined from the nature of its victuals. The number of burrows of Philanthus apivorus which I have inspected since I have been rummaging the hot roadside embankments, to enquire into their population, would seem hyperbolical were I able to state the figures. (For the Bee-eating Philanthus cf. Chapter 10 of the present volume.--Translator's Note.) They must amount, it seems to me, to thousands. Well, in this multitude of food-stores, whether recent or ancient, uncovered for a purpose or encountered by chance, I have not once, not as often as once, discovered other remains than those of the Hive-bee:
the imperishable wings, still connected in pairs, the cranium and thorax enveloped in a violet shroud, the winding-sheet which time throws over these relics. To-day as when I was a beginner, ever so long ago; in the north as in the south of the country which I explored; in mountainous regions as on the plains, the Philanthus follows an unvarying diet: she must have the Hive-bee, always the Bee and never any other, however closely various other kinds of game resemble the Bee in quality. If, therefore, when exploring sunny banks, you find beneath the soil a small parcel of mutilated Bees, that will be enough to point to the existence of a local colony of Philanthus apivorus. She alone knows the recipe for making potted Bee-meat. The Crioceris was but now teaching us all about the lily family;and here the mildewed body of the Bee tells us of the Philanthus and her lair.
Similarly the female Ephippiger helps us to identify the Languedocian Sphex: her relics, the cymbals and the long sabre, are the unmistakable sign of the cocoon to which they adhere. The black Cricket, with his red-braided thighs, is the infallible label of the Yellow-winged Sphex; the larva of Oryctes nasicornis tells us of the Garden Scolia as certainly as the best description; the Cetonia-grub proclaims the Two-banded Scolia and the larva of the Anoxia announces the Interrupted Scolia.
After these exclusive ones, who disdain to vary their meals, let us mention the eclectics, who, in a group which is generally well-defined, are able to select among different kinds of game appropriate to their bulk. The Great Cerceris (Cerceris tuberculata. Cf. "The Hunting Wasps": chapters 2 and 3.--Translator's Note.) favours above all Cleonus ophthalmicus, one of the largest of our Weevils; but at need she accepts the other Cleoni, as well as the kindred genera, provided that the capture be of an imposing size.
Cerceris arenaria (Cf. idem: chapter 1.--Translator's Note.) extends her hunting-grounds farther afield: any Weevil of average dimensions is to her a welcome capture. The Buprestis-hunting Cerceris adopts all the Buprestes indiscriminately, so long as they are not beyond her strength. The Crowned Philanthus (P. coronatus, FAB.) fills her underground warehouses with Halicti chosen among the biggest. (Cf. "Bramble-bees and Others" by J.
Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chapters 12 to 14.--Translator's Note.) Much smaller than her kinswoman, Philanthus raptor, LEP., stores away Halicti chosen among the less large species. Any adult Acridian approaching an inch in length suits the White-banded Sphex.
