matter, I had plenty of fairly good reasons for suspecting them of
containing the sense of direction. When the Hairy Ammophila (A Sand-
wasp who hunts the Grey Worm, or Caterpillar of the Turnip-moth, to
serve as food for her grubs. For other varieties of the Ammophila, cf.
"Insect Life": chapter 15.--Translator's Note.) is searching for the
Grey Worm, it is with her antennae, those tiny fingers continually
fumbling at the soil, that she seems to recognize the presence of the
underground prey. Could not those inquisitive filaments, which seem to
guide the insect when hunting, also guide it when travelling? This
remained to be seen; and I did see.

I took some Mason-bees and amputated their antennae with the scissors,
as closely as I could. These maimed ones were then carried to a
distance and released. They returned to the nest with as little
difficulty as the others. I once experimented in the same way with the
largest of our Cerceres (Cerceris tuberculata) (Another Hunting Wasp,
who feeds her young on Weevils. Cf. "Insect Life": chapters 4 and 5.--
Translator's Note.); and the Weevil-huntress returned to her
galleries. This rids us of one hypothesis: the sense of direction is
not exercised by the antennae. Then where is its seat? I do not know.

What I do know is that the Mason-bees without antennae, though they go
back to the cells, do not resume work. They persist in flying in front
of their masonry, they alight on the clay cup, they perch on the rim
of the cell and there, seemingly pensive and forlorn, stand for a long
time contemplating the work which will never be finished; they go off,
they come back, they drive away any importunate neighbour, but they
fetch and carry no more honey or mortar. The next day, they do not
appear. Deprived of her tools, the worker loses all heart in her task.
When the Mason-bee is building, the antennae are constantly feeling,