In a few minutes, the owner arrives and goes straight to where the
nest stood. She hovers gracefully over the vacant site, examines and
alights upon the exact spot where the stone used to lie. Here she
walks about for a long time, making persistent searches; then the Bee
takes wing and flies away to some distance. Her absence is of short
duration. Here she is back again. The search is resumed, walking and
flying, and always on the site which the nest occupied at first. A
fresh fit of exasperation, that is to say, an abrupt flight across the
osier-bed, is followed by a fresh return and a renewal of the vain
search, always upon the mark left by the shifted pebble. These sudden
departures, these prompt returns, these persevering inspections of the
deserted spot continue for a long time, a very long time, before the
Mason is convinced that her nest is gone. She has certainly seen it,
has seen it over and over again in its new position, for sometimes she
has flown only a few inches above it; but she takes no notice of it.
To her, it is not her nest, but the property of another Bee.

Often the experiment ends without so much as a single visit to the
boulder which I have moved two or three yards away: the Bee goes off
and does not return. If the distance be less, a yard for instance, the
Mason sooner or later alights on the stone which supports her abode.
She inspects the cell which she was building or provisioning a little
while before, repeatedly dips her head into it, examines the surface
of the pebble step by step and, after long hesitations, goes and
resumes her search on the site where the home ought to be. The nest
that is no longer in its natural place is definitely abandoned, even
though it be but a yard away from the original spot. Vainly does the
Bee settle on it time after time: she cannot recognize it as hers. I
was convinced of this on finding it, several days after the