In the following year, 1881, I began experimenting again, but in a
different way. Hitherto, I had worked on the level. To return to the
nest, my lost Bees had only to cross slight obstacles, the hedges and
spinneys of the tilled fields. To-day, I propose to add to the
difficulties of distance those of the ground to be traversed.
Discontinuing all my backing- and whirling-tactics, things which I
recognize as useless, I think of releasing my Chalicodomae in the
thick of the Serignan Woods. How will they escape from that labyrinth,
where, in the early days, I needed a compass to find my way? Moreover,
I shall have an assistant with me, a pair of eyes younger than mine
and better-fitted to follow my insects' first flight. That immediate
start in the direction of the nest has already been repeated very
often and is beginning to interest me more than the return itself. A
pharmaceutical student, spending a few days with my parents, shall be
my eyewitness. With him, I shall feel at ease; science and he are no
strangers.

The trip to the woods takes place on the 16th of May. The weather is
hot and hints at a coming storm. There is a perceptible breeze from
the south, but not enough to upset my travellers. Forty Mason-bees are
caught. To shorten the preparations, because of the distance, I do not
mark them while they are on the nests; I shall mark them at the
starting-point, as I release them. It is the old method, prolific of
stings; but I prefer it to-day, in order to save time. It takes me an
hour to reach the place. The distance, therefore, allowing for
windings, is about three miles.

The site selected must permit me to recognize the direction of the
insects' first flight. I choose a clearing in the middle of the
copses. All around is a great expanse of dense woods, shutting out the