I construct a new apparatus, but provide it with a short straw in
place of the magnet. The insect carrying it on its back rolls on the
ground, kicks and flings herself about like the first, until the
irksome contrivance is removed, taking with it a part of the fur on
the thorax. The straw produces the same effects as the magnet, in
other words, magnetism had nothing to do with what happened. My
invention, in both cases alike, is a cumbrous tackle of which the Bee
tries to rid herself at once by every possible means. To look to her
for normal actions so long as she carries an apparatus, magnetized or
not, upon her back is the same as expecting to study the natural
habits of a Dog after tying a kettle to his tail.

The experiment with the magnet is impracticable. What would it tell us
if the insect consented to it? In my opinion, it would tell us
nothing. In the matter of the homing instinct, a magnet would have no
more influence than a bit of straw.


CHAPTER 5. THE STORY OF MY CATS.

If this swinging-process fails entirely when its object is to make the
insect lose its bearings, what influence can it have upon the Cat? Is
the method of whirling the animal round in a bag, to prevent its
return, worthy of confidence? I believed in it at first, so close-
allied was it to the hopeful idea suggested by the great Darwin. But
my faith is now shaken: my experience with the insect makes me
doubtful of the Cat. If the former returns after being whirled, why
should not the latter? I therefore embark upon fresh experiments.