am to spare my travellers. To experiment so as to lift, if possible, a
tiny corner of the veil of truth is a fine and noble thing, a mighty
stimulant in the face of danger; but still one may be excused for
displaying some impatience when it is a matter of receiving forty
stings in one's fingers at one short sitting. If any man should
reproach me for being too careless with my thumbs, I would suggest
that he should have a try: he can then judge for himself the pleasures
of the situation.

To cut a long story short, either through the fatigue of the journey,
or through my fingers pressing too hard and perhaps injuring some
articulations, only twenty out of my forty Bees start with a bold,
vigorous flight. The others, unable to keep their balance, wander
about on the nearest bit of grass or remain on the osier-shoots on
which I have placed them, refusing to fly even when I tickle them with
a straw. These weaklings, these cripples, these incapables injured by
my fingers must be struck off my list. Those who started with an
unhesitating flight number about twenty. That is ample.

At the actual moment of departure, there is nothing definite about the
direction taken, none of that straight flight to the nest which the
Cerceris-wasps once showed me in similar circumstances. As soon as
they are liberated, the Mason-bees flee as though scared, some in one
direction, some in exactly the opposite direction. Nevertheless, as
far as their impetuous flight allows, I seem to perceive a quick
return on the part of those Bees who have started flying towards a
point opposite to their home; and the majority appear to me to be
making for those blue distances where their nest lies. I leave this
question with certain doubts which are inevitable in the case of
insects which I cannot follow with my eyes for more than twenty yards.