The Project Gutenberg eBook of The natural history of ants
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The natural history of ants
Author: Pierre Huber
Translator: James Rawlins Johnson
Release date: July 29, 2026 [eBook #79213]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1820
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79213
Credits: Sonya Schermann, Paul Fatula and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NATURAL HISTORY OF ANTS ***
[Illustration: _Pl. 2._: (Four species of Ants)]
_Pubd. by Longman & Co. Pater Noster Row, May 2nd. 1820._
THE
NATURAL HISTORY
OF
ANTS;
BY
M. P. HUBER,
MEMBER OF THE PHYSICAL AND NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF
GENEVA, AND CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE NATURAL
HISTORY SOCIETIES OF TARNE AND GARONNE, &c.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,
_WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES_,
+By+ J. R. JOHNSON, M.D., F.R.S., &c.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1820.
Printed by A. and R. Spottiswoode,
Printers-Street, London.
TO
HIS FATHER,
JAMES JOHNSON, +Esq.+ F.S.A.
_THIS VOLUME_
OF INTERESTING FACTS AND OBSERVATIONS,
IS,
IN TOKEN OF FILIAL RESPECT,
INSCRIBED,
BY
THE TRANSLATOR.
ADVERTISEMENT.
Since the following pages were put to the press, the Translator has
been favoured with a letter from the Author, of which the following is
an extract:--
“Since the publication of my ‘Researches into the Natural History of
Indigenous Ants,’ I have frequently re-witnessed what I there describe;
so that I can truly affirm, I have neither been led aside by a fertile
imagination, nor by a love of the marvellous.
“Some of these facts appear to many of so romantic a nature, that I am
happy in not being the only person who has noticed them; not only are
there several enlightened observers in this country (Switzerland), but
a number of other Naturalists, who, since the publication of my work,
have also observed the same occurrences. What has afforded me peculiar
satisfaction, is, that of having learned, _vivâ voce_, from M. De
Latreille, one of the most distinguished Naturalists of Paris, Member
of the Institute or Academy of Sciences, that he had witnessed, on an
extensive scale, and had shown to several of his colleagues, the wars
and pillages of my Amazon Ants.
“You will find another proof in a work of this great Naturalist,
entitled, ‘_Mémoires sur divers sujets de l’Histoire Naturelle
des Insectes, &c._’ and particularly in that memoir, entitled,
‘_Considerations nouvelles et generales sur les Insectes vivans en
Societé. Discours lu a la Séance publique de l’Academie des Sciences,
le 17 Mars, 1817._’
“The Author of these Memoirs, after having mentioned in a summary way,
the facts I published upon the manners, &c. of the Rufescent Amazon
Ant, says, ‘I observed, in 1802, an army of these Ants in one of their
military excursions. They were traversing one of our great roads,
covering the whole of its breadth, and advancing in a column of about
two feet in width. I attributed this movement to a forced emigration.
I suspected, however, from the form of this species, before M. Huber
had published any account of it, that it had particular habits. I found
this Ant in the woods, in the neighbourhood of Paris. _The whole of the
facts related by this Naturalist_ (Huber) _have been fully confirmed._’
“M. De Latreille told me, that he had shown this singular phenomenon to
a skilful English Naturalist, whose name I think is Leach.
“These, Sir, are the proofs by which I hope to obtain the confidence of
a great number of those readers, who are unable to ascertain the truth
of my assertions.”
PREFACE,
BY THE TRANSLATOR.
The favourable critique of these Researches (_Recherches sur les Mœurs
des Fourmis_, &c.), in the Edinburgh Review, for July, 1812, led me to
entertain little doubt, that, long ere this, a translation would have
been presented to the public.
Disappointed in this expectation, and desirous of filling up agreeably
a portion of my leisure time, I engaged in the translation, although
aware of the little merit attached to so humble an office. If the
reader, however, experience the same pleasure in the perusal of this
work, as I did in transcribing it for the press, both parties will be
satisfied, and I shall have the gratification of knowing that my labour
has not been unavailing, or my time misemployed.
The additional notes are not what I was desirous they should be. I
hoped to have made some addition to the History of Ants, or at least
to have confirmed some of the very remarkable facts recorded in the
present volume, particularly that of the female ants voluntarily
depriving themselves of their wings after impregnation; but I lament
that continued ill health prevented my making those exertions necessary
to attain this object.
I regret that, during my residence at Geneva, I was not personally
acquainted with our author, who resides in the neighbourhood of that
city, and who would doubtless have felt much pleasure in supplying
me with additional information. I then had no idea of putting the
following pages to the press, or I would have obtained an introduction
through the medium of my kind friends, Professor Pictet or Monsieur de
Luc.
It were much to be wished that monographs on the smaller animals,
like the one now before us, were more frequently published in this
country, since it would have the effect of removing, in some degree,
the ridicule attached to those who attend to the minuter objects of
creation, and of placing this department of Natural History, on a more
extended and firm basis.
That entomology is neither a trifling nor an useless study, it will
be enough to mention--to say nothing of the national advantage Sweden
derived from the entomological knowledge of Linnæus--the very great
services rendered to medicine and the arts, by the introduction of the
silk-worm, the cochineal insect, and the Spanish fly.
But, waiving these advantages, and others equally great would
doubtless arise, if this branch of Natural History were more
generally cultivated, let us only consider it in the light of an
amusement,--still is it an amusement not without its charms.
The amusements of the Naturalist are attended with no great expense;
his employment in the open air contributes to the preservation of
his health; his frame becomes robust from constant exercise, and the
spirit of enquiry is awakened as he contemplates the several objects
by which he is surrounded: whether he climbs the lofty mountain,
confines himself to the smiling valley, crosses the brawling stream,
penetrates the entangled forest, or breaks out into the open plain, a
thousand beings sporting in the air, measuring the ground, or skimming
the surface of the liquid element, arrest his steps, and claim his
attention; his pulse beats high with enjoyment, and his heart, warmed
with the kindlier emotions, throbs with unutterable delight; moreover,
“He fears no bailiff’s wrath, no baron’s blame;
His is untax’d and undisputed game.”
+Crabbe’s+ _Borough_, p. 110.
Bristol, Feb. 6, 1820.
PREFACE,
BY THE AUTHOR.
Much has been written upon Ants: their form of government, and their
labours, excited the admiration of the ancients equally with the
moderns; but it is only in the present day that just observations have
taken place of the fabulous recitals of Pliny and Aristotle.
The Naturalists of the last century attended to their transformations,
discovered the sexes, and cleared up many essential points of their
history. Learned anatomists, also, described their organs, classed the
different kinds of Ants, and pointed out their generic characters.
To the individual who wishes to be acquainted with the history of these
insects, it is no slight advantage, to be enabled to designate the
species, without lying under the necessity of entering into long and
minute descriptions; he can then devote himself entirely to the study
of those laws by which these various tribes are governed, undertake new
researches into their habitudes and industry, and have his attention
solely occupied with the phenomena their instinct presents.
If I have made any progress in the History of Ants, I stand, in
a considerable degree, indebted to the extensive works of M.
Latreille, who, independent of the excellent descriptions, and
complete classification he has given us of these insects, has, by his
observations, contributed to remove several popular errors.
One of our contemporaries, trusting to a fertile and brilliant
imagination, has been pleased so far to honour these little insects as
to dress them out in all the virtues, excusing them the vices that so
much disgrace the human species.
The History of Ants being yet incomplete, I have been induced to join
my own observations to those of my learned predecessors, trusting that
the perseverance with which I have studied the economy of Ants for
several years has enabled me to fill up a portion of that void which
still remains in this branch of science.
Animated with the desire of following the steps of the celebrated guide
nature had placed near me, I undertook, under his auspices, works
similar to those in which he had been distinguished, and found in this
occupation the double pleasure, of interesting him and instructing
myself.
I published in early life, some observations upon humble-bees, insects
that live in a republic. These first attempts having been received by
Naturalists more favourably than I had reason to expect, I flattered
myself that I should be enabled to disclose some of the secrets in the
History of Ants, whose societies, although much more extensive, present
greater difficulties, in the investigation, from the diminutive size
of the individuals composing them, and the obscurity in which most of
their operations are enveloped.
These researches, which I am aware are still very imperfect, present so
remarkable an assemblage of facts, that I am induced to lay them before
the amateurs of Natural History, hoping they will meet a favourable
reception.
Not to interrupt the course of my observations by anatomical details,
I have placed in the introduction all that relates to the external
organization of Ants. I have also added an abridged notice of facts
collected by other Naturalists, whose writings may be easily procured,
should the reader feel desirous of obtaining further information.
In these researches I have followed no methodical arrangement, having
adopted the plan I considered the best adapted to elucidate the
subject. I therefore commence, by giving an account of the art with
which Ants construct their habitation.
These insects inhabit, for the most part, the bottom of their
subterranean residence; hence there was a necessity of my being
provided with an apparatus that would enable me to follow them in their
domestic occupations. After describing the one I employed, I mention
the great care which these little creatures take of the eggs, larvæ,
and pupæ of their numerous family.
I devote an entire chapter to the history of the females; I describe
their amours, and state the manner in which new colonies are
established, and ancient ones preserved. Passing from the relation of
Labourers with the winged individuals, to that of the Labourers among
themselves, I accompany them in their migrations and excursions, notice
their individual conduct, and then describe the combats in which they
engage.
In the course of this work, several questions are discussed that may
appear bold to those who do not see in insects any thing but organized
machines, but they will not astonish the Naturalist, accustomed to
distrust his own opinions. There are few individuals who have not
perceived how absurd is the supposition of a blind instinct, and
for some time past we have granted to animals, at least so it to me
appears, a greater degree of knowledge than formerly.
If we reflect a moment on the complicated nature of that mechanism, we
must put in place of a spark of that light in which we all participate,
to enable it to accommodate itself to circumstances, to provide for the
several necessities of a numerous colony, and to direct a multitude
of springs in such a manner as to concur in the same end, we shall be
tempted to prefer an hypothesis the most simple,--that which accords to
insects a sufficient degree of intelligence for the conduct of their
domestic affairs, to that which considers them as mere automatons.
But Ants, living as they do in society, and entering upon labours that
require some degree of unanimity--have they no means of understanding,
and of making known their wants and their situation to their
companions? What are the connecting bonds of this numerous family?
Have they chiefs, a government, a police? Do we find among them any
proof of that subordination so boasted of by their panegyrists, and
of that economical foresight which they present us as an example for
our imitation?--These important questions would have alone engaged
my attention, had I been able to follow any regular plan in my
observations: but when we advance on an unknown region, we cannot trace
before-hand the boundaries of our journey; and Natural History offers
more than one proof, that to make new discoveries we must now and then
quit the main road.
I was, however, far from expecting those extraordinary facts that
presented themselves in the course of my researches; among them those
of the Ants with their _pucerons_, which I have already published, and
to which I have made several additions. But there are facts still more
singular connected with the Ants of different species. The history of
the Amazon Ants presents a phenomenon so opposed to what the manners
of insects and other animals have hitherto offered us, and recalls so
prominent a feature in the history of man, that I have given up a great
portion of my time to its elucidation, and have considered it my duty
to devote several chapters to it, with the view of making it known in
all its detail, and of putting the reader in the way of judging or
verifying the truth of my assertions.
I conclude the work by some general considerations which my
observations have suggested to me, and by comparing the habits of Ants
with those of other insects that live in a republic.
The title I have given to these researches is not to be taken in its
fullest extent, since I have not studied the manners of _all_ the
indigenous ants. I know twenty-three species of which I have not
equally learned the history; but if the facts I have noticed, excite
the attention of Naturalists, and induce them to fill up the outline I
now lay before them, it will be the sweetest recompense for the labours
to which I have been devoted.
INTRODUCTION.
My design in this Introduction, is to take a rapid review of the
facts collected by several writers relative to the History of Ants.
The descriptive part, better known than that which refers to their
manners and habits, still presents some doubts which I shall attempt to
remove. De Geer, among the ancient, Fabricius and Latreille among the
modern naturalists, are those to whom I shall have recourse for their
classification.
Systematic authors have placed Ants in the class of insects with four
naked wings--with Bees, Wasps, Andrenæ, &c. from which they differ
essentially in the composition of their families, where we find the
males and females furnished with wings, and the workers without them.
The characters given by M. Latreille, to distinguish them more
particularly, are that of having “the peduncle of the abdomen
surmounted with a scale, or knotty; the abdomen of the workers and
females ejaculating an acid, or armed with a sting; the antennæ
filiform, or slightly enlarged at their extremity, bent or fractured in
the middle, composed of twelve or thirteen joints; the second conical,
of the same length as those that follow; a tongue, spoon-shaped,
entire; the upper lip effaced; the palpi filiform unequal, anterior of
five, posterior of four joints. The first of these characters furnishes
two very distinct families, the one, composed of all those ants that
have the peduncle surmounted by a scale, the other, of all those in
which it is formed of two knots. The characters of the first family,
are--having the antennæ filiform, or pointed at the extremity; no
sting; a simple venom-bag; the abdomen more elongated, and composed in
the females and workers of five rings.”
The ants of the second family have the antennæ moniliform, and
considerably enlarged at their extremity; a sting; the abdomen short,
and composed of four rings in females and the workers.
The males have, in general, the antennæ longer, and of thirteen joints;
the abdomen is composed of one ring more than in other individuals of
their species; they possess neither a sting nor a venom-bag. As we
shall treat in this work of none but indigenous ants, all of which find
place in this general division, I shall not enter into greater detail
relative to their classification.
Let us examine separately all the parts of the body of ants in order
to know their external organs. Their head is triangular, oblong, and
terminates in a point more or less obtuse; it is thick at the top, thin
at the opposite extremity, and terminated by two large teeth, termed
mandibles; underneath is the mouth, properly so called. On each side
are large reticulated oval eyes; above, we commonly notice three more,
very small, and placed so as to form a triangle. In the fore-part of
the head are the antennæ, and underneath the lower jaws the palpi.
The mandibles of the females and the workers are of a horny structure,
concave, curved, denticulated, moveable, and serve for several
purposes: those of the males are very slender, terminate in a point,
and are covered with hair. Besides these organs with which the mouth is
externally furnished, we also remark an upper lip, slightly projecting,
two inferior jaws, very small, which play from right to left, and a
lower lip, hidden entirely underneath; we are not yet agreed as to
their composition.
Fabricius gives to Ants of all kinds, for their principal character,
that of having a mouth destitute of a tongue (_os absque Lingua_);
Latreille, on the contrary, grants them one, expressing it under this
form (_Langue en cuilleron entière_); “the lower lip,” he says, “is
formed of a conical furrow, coriaceous, with an elevated ridge in the
middle, and terminated in a point, and of a tongue, or membranous
portion, lodged in this furrow, and spoon-shaped.”--I beg leave to add
some few observations to those of these great naturalists. When the
ants wish to drink, we see proceed from their lower jaws, which are
much shorter than the upper, a little conical, fleshy, and yellowish
tubercle, which performs the office of a tongue, advancing and retiring
alternately; it appears to proceed from what we term the lower lip,
which serves as the base, and perhaps a sheath to this tongue, and
which is so small, that it is only from analogy with other insects we
have given it this name. This lip is capable of advancing conjointly
with the two lower jaws, and when the insect wishes to lap, the whole
apparatus makes a progressive movement, in such a way, that the tongue,
which is very short, has no need of much extension to enable it to
accomplish its object. The jaws are elongated, enlarged at their
extremity, slightly concave underneath, of a horny substance, and,
compared to the mandibles, extremely slender and weak. In the centre,
externally, we notice palpi of six rings each, and two more may be also
perceived at the base of the tongue; the latter are much smaller and
composed only of four rings: we are as yet unacquainted with their use.
The antennæ, as we have before stated, are bent or fractured, situated
in the fore-part of the head, more or less near the middle of the
forehead; they lie in a small longitudinal furrow, and are composed of
twelve or thirteen joints; the first being about half their length. The
antennæ of those ants that have a scale upon the fillet of the abdomen
are filiform, and are composed of rings of the same size, or terminate
slightly in a point. The ants of the second family have the antennæ,
on the contrary, enlarged at the extremity; those of the males are
setaceous in the first species, more granulated in the latter species,
and in all are formed of one ring more than in the workers and females.
The head is connected to the thorax or corslet by a thin, short, and
narrow neck, of a fleshy substance, and furnished with muscles, by
which all its movements are regulated.
The corslet of the winged individuals is very large comparatively to
the head; that of the workers is much narrower; that of the former
is convex, entire, composed of several horny pieces, of different
forms, retained by proper membranes: the superior is separated
from the sternal portion by a furrow, in the middle of which the
wings are implanted. The wings are placed in the back part of the
corslet, whilst, in other insects of the same kind, they are situated
more in front of the body. Another remarkable character respecting
their insertion is,--that the corslet has none of those instruments
(_Cuillerons_) destined to moderate the movements of the wings, and
which are situated at their base in the other hymenopterous insects.[1]
[1] These observations were communicated to me by Professor Jurine, and
are a proof of the distinguishing glance of this able naturalist.
The corslet of the workers is gibbous, divided equally, and composed,
according to De Geer, of three pieces; the first--that nearest the
head, is thick and round; the second is of less size, extends to the
under part of the abdomen, and appears divided in two transversely; the
third, much thicker than the second, is truncated and obtuse. We cannot
well define the form of the corslet, since it varies according to the
species; it has four stigmæ, two of which rest in a slight lateral
depression (which seems to divide the corslet), one on each side; the
other two are situated near the posterior extremity, to the right and
left of the fillet.
The wings, which are four in number, are transparent, large, and
sleek; the posterior are shorter than the anterior, their nervures are
slightly coloured, and the stigma is yellow or brown. These wings are
hooked when the insect flies; they form but one horizontal surface by
means of a series of little hooks disposed at their margin.
To each of the three lower parts of the corslet are attached a pair of
legs. They are connected by a moveable piece, long and conical, which
we may term the hip. The posterior legs are the longest; they are each
divided into three principal parts--the thigh, the leg, and the foot
or tarsus; the latter is formed of five conical pieces, of unequal
length, articulated together, and more or less hairy; the tarsus is
terminated by two hooks, between which lies a round substance, which
we may regard as the sole of the foot. We remark, at the extremity of
the leg, properly so called, a spine or spur, straight, strong, and
smooth; that on the anterior feet is slightly curved, and covered with
stiff hair, where it is connected to the foot. The first piece of the
tarsus, which is opposite the spur, presents a considerable curvature.
It is furnished with a fringe-work of strong hair, cut regularly.
This constitutes the brush which the insect employs when cleaning its
antennæ, head, and corslet; it has also other uses, but to these I
shall allude on another occasion.
The vertical scale is heart-shaped, with the point turned downwards. It
is traversed at its origin by the abdominal fillet; its form varies,
and it furnishes very distinct characters. Latreille remarks that it
is provided with two stigmæ, which are situated at its base on the
posterior side.
The abdomen or belly of the ant is always larger than the corslet,
of an oval form, swoln, and more or less pointed at the posterior
extremity. It is composed of demi-rings, which are of a horny
substance; the superior are connected with the inferior by means of a
flexible membrane, which allows of their separation and approximation
at will. It is easy to notice this when the insect has taken a full
meal, since each of these horny pieces appears then to be separated
from the rest by a little whitish band, which is nothing more than this
membrane. The abdomen is composed of four or five rings, the last of
which gives passage to the sexual organs and the sting.
Latreille regards the scale as characteristic, which rests on the
fillet of the abdomen, and takes the place of a ring, which, without
that, would be wanting in the abdomen of these insects. These are his
words:--“Naturalists,” he says, “have not considered that this scale
or these knots on the peduncle of the abdomen of ants are only the
first rings shaped in this way. Several wasps have also the first
segment of the abdomen formed like a knot. To decide this point, let
us count the number of rings of which the abdomen of ants is composed;
we know, and it is a constant rule with respect to insects of this
order, that there are seven rings in the abdomen of males, and six in
that of females. Let us see if, after taking away the scale and the
knots of the peduncle, we shall find this number. We do not:--for the
abdomen of the females or workers, which has a scale or single knot
in the fore-part, possess but five rings, and that of the males only
six. The abdomen of those ants whose peduncle is formed of two knots,
will have still one ring less; that is to say, four in some, and five
in others.”--We have already remarked, that the workers and females
of some species are provided with a sting; this consists of a little
short, horny substance, straight and conical, formed of two filaments,
and accompanied with two other little pieces, conical, smooth,
compressed, one on each side. “There exists,” continues M. Latreille,
“the greatest resemblance between the exterior organs of generation in
single females and workers; the resemblance indeed is so close, that
on the most severe examination we can scarcely perceive any sensible
difference.” He regards the workers as impotent females, whose organs
have not received their full development. In truth, if we consider
the form of their head and their teeth, the number of the joints or
articulations in their antennæ, the number of their rings, the presence
of the sting, or that of the venom-bag which replaces it, we shall
be struck with the similarity existing between these two orders. The
workers are much smaller than the females; they also differ in the form
of the corslet, in the absence of wings, and in colour. Some of the
males are smaller, others larger than the workers of their species;
their corslet is shaped like that of the females; the scale or knots
are of great similarity in all the individuals of each family: the
males are commonly of a blackish hue.
Our knowledge of the manners and habits of ants is extremely limited,
consisting only of a small assemblage of detached facts, and of a few
assertions, sufficiently vague, which I shall discuss in their proper
place. In the list of modern authors who have contributed to the
history of ants, we find naturalists of the greatest celebrity.
Leeuwenhoeck is the first who seriously attended to the metamorphoses
of ants, and proved that what had been hitherto regarded as their eggs
were the real larvæ; indeed from their magnitude this should have been
previously known, the eggs of these insects being exceedingly minute.
Swammerdam confirms, by profound researches and admirable descriptions,
the observations published by his predecessor:--he notices the several
changes ants undergo, and shows the pupa to be the same individual
that under the form of larva possessed neither limbs nor any distinct
features. He points out the distinction between the males and females,
which, he says, are furnished with wings, and remarks, that the common
ants are labourers or neuters, as obtains in bees. He also describes
some of the domestic occupations in which ants are engaged, and
informs us, that the larvæ of some species spin a silken envelope, in
which they undergo their transformation, and then gives us excellent
descriptions of several species of ants.
Linnæus comes next:--he describes seven species of ants met with
in Sweden;--treats of the large conical ant-hills abounding in
fir-forests; finds the female ants, as well as the males, furnished
with wings; which, he says, they lose a little time after birth, and is
of opinion they never return to their original habitation.
Geoffroy adds nothing to the facts brought forward by these excellent
naturalists: he falls, on the contrary, into several errors, which, as
they have been combated by De Geer, I shall pass over in silence.
This last author (De Geer) informs us, that the young ants cannot
extricate themselves from their silken envelope without the assistance
of the labourers; and that the larvæ of the shining black ant do not
always spin, since we find in their nest pupæ both naked and enclosed.
He also observes that the larvæ of certain species pass the winter in
that state, and that those of the Yellow Ant are closely invested with
hair in the month of April, &c.--Passing from the infant to the adult
state of the ant, he notices their amours in the air, believes that the
females return to their nest to deposit their eggs, in this respect
opposing the opinion of Linnæus, who was, however, better informed
on this subject than himself. This justly celebrated naturalist,
notwithstanding, gives us more information upon the history of ants
than the whole of his predecessors.
Charles Bonnet was in his turn occupied:--he was of opinion that ants
are directed in their migrations by the scent. He notices a small
family-establishment of these insects on the head of a thistle, of
which he gives us an interesting account. Had he, however, opened it,
he would have, with admiration, discovered the motive which drew them
thither, and would no longer have been astonished at their living
there without touching the provision he tendered them. He saw these
ants engaged in carrying each other, and describes their proceedings in
his usual lively and agreeable manner, although unaware of the purport
for which these insects had assembled.
M. Latreille confirms the facts brought forward by other authors. He
notices two species of ants destitute of eyes, but does not describe
their manners. He also advances some conjectures to which we shall
refer hereafter.
It appears from all the observations made to the present day, that we
are not agreed as to the fate of the males and females; that we know
not why certain larvæ should, others should not, spin; why among some
species we should find pupæ both naked and enclosed; that we have not
sufficiently attended to the spirit which reigns in the interior of
ant-hills, nor to the relation existing between the labouring ants
and their females; that we have not discovered whether they possess
the means of understanding each other; that we have not sufficiently
described the construction of their abode, nor the manner in which they
establish it, nor do we know whether these insects do or do not form
colonies, &c. The number of questions not yet solved is endless; it
is, however, time to fill up some of the numerous sketches which our
predecessors have left us upon this subject, and place, if possible,
the history of ants on a more solid and secure foundation.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. I.
Page
+The+ Architecture of Ants 1
1. The Architecture of the Fallow Ants 2
2. ---- ---- ---- ---- Mason Ants 16
3. ---- ---- ---- ---- dark Ash-coloured Ants 35
4. ---- ---- ---- ---- Ants that inhabit timber 47
5. ---- ---- ---- ---- Ants that form their residence of
saw-dust, &c. 58
CHAP. II.
+Of+ the Eggs, Larvæ, and Pupæ of Ants 60
CHAP. III.
+Of+ the Fecundation, &c. of Ants 94
1. Of the departure of the Winged Ants _ib._
2. ---- ---- History of the Winged Ants after impregnation 108
3. ---- ---- conduct of the Labourers towards the pregnant
females 127
CHAP. IV.
+Of+ the relation between Ants 142
2. Of the manner in which Ants are guided in their several
excursions 151
3. ---- ---- migrations of the Fallow Ants 157
4. ---- ---- affection of Ants for their companions 168
CHAP. V.
+Of+ the wars of Ants, and some other particulars 178
CHAP. VI.
+Of+ the Relation of Ants with the _Pucerons_ and _Gall
Insects_ 205
1. Of the Antennal Language _ib._
2. ---- ---- intimacy of Ants with the _Pucerons_ 210
3. ---- ---- Relation of Ants with the _Gall Insects_ 219
4. ---- ---- almost human industry of Ants 222
5. ---- ---- resources of the Ants during winter 237
6. ---- ---- eggs of the _Pucerons_ 239
CHAP. VII.
+First+ historical sketch of the Amazon Ants 248
CHAP. VIII.
+Researches+ into the origin of mixed ant-hills 264
CHAP. IX.
+Further+ information on the Amazon Ants 288
CHAP. X.
+The+ Establishment of a mixed Ant-hill, in a glass apparatus 310
CHAP. XI.
+History+ of the Sanguine Ants 329
CHAP. XII.
+Observations+ on those insects that live in Republics 346
+Appendix+ 379
[Illustration: _Pl. 1._: (Ant Habitats)]
_Pubd. by Longman & Co. Pater Noster Row. May 2nd. 1820._
THE
NATURAL HISTORY
OF
ANTS.
CHAP. I.
THE ARCHITECTURE OF ANTS.
The first objects which strike the attention in entering upon the
study of the history of ants, are the art with which they form their
habitations; their variety, and the manner in which they respectively
answer the wants of the species who construct them. They are sometimes
fabricated with earth, sometimes hewn out in the trunk of the most
solid trees, or simply composed of leaves and stalks of plants
collected from all quarters. They are of an astonishing size, when
compared with their diminutive architects.
I hope, in the course of the present work, to bring the reader to
conceive what degree of intelligence we may grant these insects, whose
faculties, police, and sagacity, have been, by some authors, as much
over-rated as by others not duly appreciated.
The three modes of building, of which I have just spoken, admit of
numerous modifications, each species of ant being endowed with some
peculiar talent. I shall mention in what they differ, after describing
the general outline of their architecture, if we may express, by the
same term, the simple and rude work of an insect, and an art brought to
perfection by the hands of man.
1. ART OF BUILDING AMONG THE FALLOW ANTS.
The fallow ant is that ant which forms in the woods those hillocks so
remarkable for their extent. It admits of easy observation, from its
being above the middle size, from its operations being carried on
in open day, and from the simplicity of the work in which we find it
engaged. It is very common in every part of Europe, and has, therefore,
occupied the attention of Linnæus, De Geer, &c., but these learned
men, having noticed it under a point of view different from mine, and
my plan not permitting me to mention what they say upon this head, I
shall, after briefly describing these insects, commence by explaining
the construction of their abode, at the same time noticing the very
exact police ants of this species observe.
The working fallow ants are from three to four lines in length, and
stand high upon their legs. Their head, which is larger than the
corslet, is of a pale red or fallow colour at the extremity, and
blackish at the top. The mouth is armed with two very strong mandibles,
denticulated and hooked at the point, which they generally keep apart,
and make use of, not only for attacking their enemies and tearing
their prey, but in carrying burthens, and performing the labours and
reparations of the ant-hill. The antennæ are black and filiform. The
corslet is protuberant, raised anteriorly, compressed and truncated
posteriorly, often marked with a black stain above, the rest being
of a clear fallow colour. The peduncle of the abdomen is of the same
colour, and bears a large scale, which is scolloped and blackish on
its superior margin. The abdomen is brown or ash-coloured, slightly
invested with hair, globose, composed of five rings, not counting the
scale, wanting the sting, but armed with a venom-bag. The feet are
brown, and the thighs, at their origin, of a reddish tint. I have
described, in the Appendix, two varieties of these ants; one with a
black back, another with a back of the same colour as the rest of the
corslet. This difference, which scarcely affects the habitudes of these
insects, separates, however, those who inhabit the woods from those
who live along-side hedges, and in meadows. It is the latter only,
that have the corslet stained with black and the scale on its upper
margin[1] brown. They both collect, near their habitation, fragments
of straw, pieces of wood, little stones, leaves, and all other objects
within reach, that may be of service in increasing its height, not
neglecting even moths, minute shells, corn, oats, and barley, which
doubtless gave rise to their ancient renown. But if this foresight,
which we supposed them to possess, has not for its object to preserve
them from famine during the winter, a time in which ants eat but
little, especially grain, it is not the less worthy of our regard, when
we consider its real purport.
[1] _Vide_ the description of the fallow ant, and particularly the note
in the Appendix.
That little mound which seems at the first glance only an assemblage of
materials confusedly scattered, is, however, an invention as ingenious
as simple to carry off the waters from the ant-hill, to defend it from
the injuries of the air, and from hostile attacks, and to regulate
the heat of the sun, or retain it in the interior. The mass of
the different materials of which it is composed, always presents a
circular dome, whose base, often covered with earth and pebbles, forms
a cone, above which the wooden portion of the building is erected in
the form of a sugar loaf. But this is simply the exterior covering of
the ant-hill; the most considerable portion is hidden from our sight,
descending to a depth of greater or less extent. Avenues constructed
very carefully of an irregular funnel shape conduct from the roof to
the interior. Their number depends upon the population of the nest and
its extent. The entrance to the nest is more or less considerable. We
sometimes find a spacious aperture at the top, but more frequently,
several apertures of nearly equal size, around which are many narrow
passages, symmetrically and circularly disposed, which extend even to
the base of their habitation.
These several apertures were necessary to give a free egress to the
vast multitude of labourers of which their colony is composed. Not only
do they work continually on the outside of their nest, but differing
very essentially from other species who willingly remain in the
interior sheltered from the sun, they prefer living in the open air,
and do not hesitate carrying on, even in our presence, the greater part
of their operations.
In the habitations of the yellow ant, the dark ash-coloured ant, the
sanguine ant, the brown ant, &c. we never observe the entrances of
sufficient width to allow their enemies easy access, or permit the
introduction of the rain. They are covered with a dome of earth, closed
on all sides, and have no outlet but near the base, which is by a long
and tortuous passage that winds to the distance of several feet in the
grass. The diminutive size of these apertures, at all times diligently
guarded within, prevents the entrance of any insects or reptiles that
may happen to arrive there.
The fallow ants, collected in crowds during the day on their nest,
have no fear of being disquieted in the interior, but when, in the
evening, they retire to their quarters, no longer perceiving what
passes without, how are they screened from the accidents with which
they are menaced? or how happens it that the rain does not penetrate
their abode, open as it is on every side to its introduction? These
questions, simple as they are, do not appear to have engaged the
attention of naturalists. Have they not then foreseen the dangers to
which these insects would have been exposed, if that wisdom which
regulates the universe had not provided for their safety? Struck with
these reflections, when I first noticed the fallow ants, I directed my
entire attention to this subject, and soon acquired the information I
wanted. I remarked that their habitations changed in appearance hourly,
and that the diameter of those spacious avenues, where so many ants
could freely pass each other during the day, was, as night approached,
gradually lessened. The aperture at length totally disappeared, the
dome was closed on all sides, and the ants retired to the bottom of
their nest.
In further noticing the apertures of these ant-hills, I fully
ascertained the nature of the labour of its inhabitants, of which I
could not before even guess the purport; for the surface of the nest
presented such a constant scene of agitation, and so many insects were
occupied in carrying materials in every direction, that the movement
offered no other image than that of confusion.
I saw then clearly that they were engaged in stopping up their
passages; and for this purpose, they at first brought forward little
pieces of wood, which they deposited near the entrance of those
avenues they wished to close, they placed them above the aperture, and
even sunk them in the stubble; they then went to seek other ligneous
fragments which they disposed above the first, but in a different
direction, and appeared to choose fragments of less size in proportion
as the work advanced. They at length brought in a number of dried
leaves, and other materials of an enlarged form, with which they
covered the roof. Is not this in miniature the art of our builders when
they form the covering of any building? Nature seems every where to
have anticipated the inventions of which we boast. This is doubtless
one of the most simple.
Our little insects, now in safety in their nest, retire gradually to
the interior before the last passages are closed, one or two only
remain without, or concealed behind the doors on guard, whilst the rest
either take their repose, or engage in different occupations in the
most perfect security.
I was impatient to know what took place in the morning upon these
ant-hills, and therefore visited them at an early hour. I found them
in the same state in which I had left them the preceding evening. A
few ants were wandering about on the surface of the nest, some others
issued from time to time from under the margin of the little roofs
formed at the entrance of the galleries: others afterwards came forth
who began removing the wooden bars that blockaded the entrance, in
which they readily succeeded. This labour occupied them several hours.
The passages were at length free, and the materials with which they had
been closed scattered here and there over the ant-hill.
Every day, morning and evening, during the fine weather, I was a
witness to similar proceedings. On days of rain, the doors of all the
ant-hills remain closed. When the sky is cloudy in the morning, or
rain is indicated, the ants, who seem to be aware of it, open but in
part their several avenues, and immediately close them when the rain
commences. It would appear from this they are not insensible of the
motive for which they form these temporary closures.
To have an idea how the straw or stubble roof is formed, let us take
a view of the ant-hill at its origin, when it is simply a cavity in
the earth. Some of its future inhabitants are seen wandering about
in search of materials fit for the exterior work, with which, though
rather irregularly, they cover up the entrance; whilst others are
employed in mixing the earth, thrown up in hollowing the interior, with
fragments of wood and leaves, which are every moment brought in by
their fellow-assistants; and this gives a certain consistence to the
edifice, which increases in size daily. Our little architects leave
here and there cavities where they intend constructing the galleries
which are to lead to the exterior, and as they remove in the morning
the barriers placed at the entrance of their nest the preceding
evening, the passages are kept entire during the whole time of its
construction. We soon observe it to become convex; but we should be
greatly deceived did we consider it solid. This roof is destined to
include many apartments or stories. Having observed the motions of
these little masons through a pane of glass which I adjusted against
one of their habitations, I am enabled to speak with some degree of
certainty upon the manner in which they are constructed.
It is by excavating or mining the under portion of their edifice that
they form their spacious halls, low indeed and of heavy construction,
yet sufficiently convenient for the use to which they are appropriated,
that of receiving at certain hours of the day the larvæ and pupæ.[2]
[2] The terms of _Larva_ and _Pupa_ are employed to designate the
intermediate states of existence in the insect, on its passage from the
egg to its becoming a perfect animal, endowed with all the powers of
its race, the former being commonly known under the appellation of Grub
or Caterpillar, the latter of Chrysalis or Aurelia. The ant remains,
according to Gould, in the first or larva state of existence nearly a
twelvemonth, in the state of pupa about six weeks, and as a perfect
insect 16 months. The time, however, they remain as larvæ and pupæ is,
no doubt considerably influenced by variations in the temperature,
and other causes. M. Reaumur hastened the disclosure of the butterfly
by keeping the aurelia or pupa in a warm room, and retarded it by
placing it in an ice house. Mr. Kirby once kept one of the aphidivorous
flies--the whole term of whose existence, according to this intelligent
entomologist, does not, in the summer, exceed at the very utmost six
weeks--several months in the state of larva; and, paradoxical as it may
seem, by simply neglecting to give it food.--T.
These halls have a free communication by galleries made in the same
manner. If the materials of which the ant-hill is composed were only
interlaced, they would fall into a confused heap every time the
ants attempted to bring them into regular order. This, however, is
obviated by their tempering the earth with rain-water, which afterwards
hardening in the sun, so completely and effectually binds together
the several substances as to permit the removal of certain fragments
from the ant-hill, without any injury to the rest: it, moreover,
strongly opposes the introduction of the rain. I never found, even
after long and violent rains, the interior of the nest wetted to more
than a quarter of an inch from the surface, provided it had not been
previously out of repair, or deserted by its inhabitants.
The ants are extremely well sheltered in their chambers, the largest
of which is placed nearly in the centre of the building; it is much
loftier than the rest, and traversed only by the beams that support the
ceiling: it is in this spot that all the galleries terminate, and this
forms, for the most part, their usual residence.
As to the under-ground portion, it can only be seen when the ant-hill
is placed against a declivity; all the interior may be then readily
brought in view, by simply raising up the straw roof. The subterranean
residence consists of a range of apartments, excavated in the earth,
taking an horizontal direction.
That part of the architecture of fallow ants, which equally obtains
with the mason-ants, and of which I shall soon have occasion to speak,
I shall not now stop to describe, but pass on immediately to the
labours of the latter, which will be found to merit our attention.
2. ARCHITECTURE OF THE MASON-ANTS.
I term those mason-ants, whose nests, on the exterior, have the
appearance of hillocks of earth, without admixture of other materials,
whilst in the interior they present a series of labyrinths, lodges,
vaults, and galleries, constructed with great art.
There are several species of mason-ants. The earth, of which their nest
is composed, is more or less compact. That which ants of a certain
size, such as the ash-coloured and mining ants employ, appears to be
less selected, and forms a less fine paste, than that of which the
brown, microscopic, and yellow ants form their abode. It is, however,
sufficiently adapted to their use, and to the nature of the edifice
they intend erecting.
To form a correct judgment of the interior arrangement or distribution
of an ant-hill, it is necessary to select such as have not been
accidentally spoiled, or whose form has not been too much altered by
local circumstances; a slight attention will then suffice to show, that
the habitation of the different species are not all constructed after
the same system. Thus, the hillock raised by the ash-coloured ants will
always present thick walls, fabricated with coarse earth, well-marked
stories, and large chambers, with vaulted ceilings, resting upon a
solid base. We never observe roads or galleries, properly so called,
but large passages, of an oval form, and all around considerable
cavities and extensive embankments of earth. We further notice, that
the little architects observe a certain proportion between the large
arched ceilings and the pillars that are to support them.
The brown, one of the smallest of the ants, is particularly remarkable
for the extreme finish of its work. Its body is of a reddish shining
brown, its head a little deeper, and the antennæ and feet a little
lighter in colour. The abdomen is of an obscure brown, the scale
narrow, of a square form, and slightly scolloped. The body is one line
and two-fifths in length.[3]
[3] See the notes in the Appendix.
This ant, one of the most industrious of its tribe, forms its nest of
stories, four or five lines in height. The partitions are not more
than half a line in thickness, and the substance of which they are
composed is so finely grained, that the inner walls present one smooth,
unbroken surface. These stories are not horizontal: they follow the
slope of the ant-hill, and lie one upon the other to the ground-floor,
which communicates with the subterranean lodges. They are not always,
however, arranged with the same regularity, for these ants do not
follow an invariable plan; it appears, on the contrary, that nature
has allowed them a certain latitude in this respect, and that they
can, according to circumstances, modify them to their wish:--but,
however fantastical their habitations may appear, we always observe
they have been formed by concentrical stories. On examining each
story separately, we observe a number of cavities or halls, lodges
of narrower dimensions, and long galleries, which serve for general
communication. The arched ceilings covering the most spacious places
are supported, either by little columns, slender walls, or by regular
buttresses. We also notice chambers that have but one entrance,
communicating with the lower story, and large open spaces, serving
as a kind of _carrefour_, or cross-road, in which all the streets
terminate. Such is the manner in which the habitations of these ants
are constructed. Upon opening them, we commonly find the apartments,
as well as the large open spaces, filled with adult ants, and always
observe their pupæ collected in the apartments, more or less near the
surface. This, however, seems regulated by the hour of the day, and
the temperature; for in this respect these ants are endowed with
great sensibility, and know the degree of heat best adapted for their
young. The ant-hill contains sometimes more than twenty stories in its
upper portion, and at least as many under the surface of the ground.
By this arrangement the ants are enabled, with the greatest facility,
to regulate the heat. When a too burning sun overheats their upper
apartments, they withdraw with their little ones to the bottom of
the ant-hill. The ground-floor becoming, in its turn, uninhabitable,
during the rainy season, the ants of this species transport what most
interests them to the higher stories, and it is there we find them
more usually assembled with their pupæ and eggs, when the subterranean
apartments are submerged.[4] Having ascertained the internal
arrangement of their habitations, it was still an object of discovery,
how ants, working with a substance so hard, could trace out and finish
works so extremely delicate, with the assistance only of their teeth,
how they could soften the earth, for the purpose of mining, _kneading_,
and building with it, and what cement they employed to unite its
several particles into one mass. Did it depend upon a sort of mucilage
or resin, or some other liquid furnished by the ants themselves,
similar to what the mason-bee employs in building the nest to which it
gives so much solidity? I ought, perhaps, to have analysed the earth
of which these ant-hills are composed, but I was fearful of engaging
in difficulties that did not come within my immediate province, and
therefore kept to the slow but sure method of observation, by which I
hoped to obtain the same result.
[4] De Azara informs us, that during the inundation of the low
districts in South America, when the ant-hills, which are usually
about three feet in height, are completely under water, the ants avail
themselves of an ingenious contrivance, to prevent their being carried
to any distance from their habitation. With this view, and for their
greater security, they collect into a compact mass, and keep firm
hold of each other, previously attaching one of the extremities to
some neighbouring plant, or fixed point of support, leaving the other
end free and floating on the surface of the water, as long as the
inundation (which usually lasts a few days) continues.--T.
I hastened, then, to observe one of these ant-hills, until I should
perceive some change in its form.
The inhabitants of that I had selected kept within during the day,
or only went out by the subterranean galleries, which opened at some
feet distance in the meadow. There were, however, two or three small
openings on the surface of the nest, but I saw none of the labourers
pass out this way, on account of their being too much exposed to the
sun, which these insects greatly dread.
This ant-hill, which had a round form, rose in the grass at the border
of a path, and had sustained no injury. I soon perceived that the
freshness of the air and the dew invited the ants to walk over the
surface of their nest; they began making new apertures; several ants
might be seen arriving at the same time, thrusting their head from the
entrances, moving about their antennæ, and at length adventuring forth
to visit the environs.
This brought to my recollection a singular opinion of the ancients.
They believed that ants were occupied in their architectural labours
during the night, when the moon was at its full.[5] This idea was not,
perhaps, without some foundation, and although the moon had doubtless
no kind of influence on their conduct, yet I perceived something true
in the observation.
[5] Aristotle affirmed, that ants worked in the night, when the moon
was at its full; _Hist. Anim._ l. ix. c. 38. Pliny also alludes to
their nocturnal labours. “_Operantur et noctu plena lunâ; eadem
interlunio cessant._” Gould states that they employ each moment by day
and night, almost without intermission, unless hindered by excessive
rains; and the author of a Memoir in the Transactions of the French
Academy, remarks, that the ants, he observed, were so incessantly
occupied during the night, that it seemed as if they never slept!--T.
Having then noticed the movements of these insects during the night,
I found they were almost always abroad and engaged about the dome of
their habitation after sun-set. This was directly the reverse of what I
had observed in the conduct of the fallow ants, who only go out during
the day, and close their doors in the evening. The contrast was still
more remarkable than I had previously supposed, for upon visiting the
brown ants, some days after, during a gentle rain, I saw all their
architectural talents in full play.
As soon as the rain commenced, they left, in great numbers, their
subterranean residence, re-entered it almost immediately, and then
returned, bearing between their teeth pellets of earth, which they
deposited on the roof of their nest. I could not, at first, conceive,
what this was meant for, but at length I saw little walls start up on
all sides with spaces left between them. In several places, columns,
ranged at regular distances, announced halls, lodges, and passages,
which the ants proposed establishing; in one word, it was the _ebauche_
of a new story.
I watched with a considerable degree of interest, the most trifling
movements of my Masons, and found they did not work, after the manner
of wasps and humble-bees, when occupied in constructing a covering
to their nest. The latter sit as it were a-stride (_se mettent pour
ainsi dire à cheval_) the border or margin of this covering, and take
it between their teeth to model and attenuate it according to their
wish. The wax of which it is composed, and the _papier_ which the wasp
employs, moistened by some kind of glue, are admirably adapted for this
purpose; but the earth (often possessing but little tenacity) of which
the ants make use, must be worked up after some other manner.
Each ant, then, carried between its teeth the pellet of earth it had
formed, by scraping with the end of its mandibles, the bottom of its
abode, which I have often witnessed in open day. This little mass of
earth, being composed of particles but just united, could be readily
moulded as the ants wished: thus, when they had applied it to the spot
where it was to rest, they divided, and pressed against it with their
teeth, so as to fill up the little inequalities of their wall. The
antennæ followed all their movements, passing over each particle of
earth as soon as it was placed in its proper position. The whole was
then rendered more compact, by pressing it lightly with the fore-feet.
This work went on remarkably quick. After having traced out the plan
of their masonry, in laying here and there foundations for the pillars
and the partitions they were about to erect, they gave them more relief
by adding fresh materials. It often happened that two little walls,
which were to form a gallery, were raised opposite, and at a slight
distance from each other. When they had attained the height of four or
five lines, the ants busied themselves in covering in the space left
between them by a vaulted ceiling.
Quitting, then, their labours in the upper part of the building, as if
they judged all their partitions of sufficient elevation, they affixed
to the interior and upper part of each wall, fragments of moistened
earth, in an almost horizontal direction, and in such a way, as to form
a ledge which, by extension, would be made to join that coming from the
opposite wall. These ledges were about half a line in thickness; and
the breadth of the galleries was, for the most part, about a quarter
of an inch. Here several vertical partitions were seen to form the
scaffolding of a lodge, which communicated with several corridors, by
apertures formed in the masonry; there, a regularly formed hall, the
vaulted ceiling of which was sustained by numerous pillars; further off
might be recognised the rudiments of one of those _carrefours_ of which
we have before spoken, and in which several avenues terminate. These
parts of the Ant-hill were the most spacious; the ants, however, did
not appear embarrassed in constructing the ceiling to cover them in,
although they were often more than two inches in breadth.
In the upper part of the angles formed by the different walls, they
laid the first foundations of this ceiling, and from the top of each
pillar, as from so many _centres_, a layer of earth, horizontal and
slightly convex, was carried forward to meet the several portions
coming from different points of the large public thoroughfare.
This busy crowd of Masons, arriving from all parts with the piece of
mortar they wish to add to the building, the order they observe in
their operations, the harmony which prevails, and the eagerness with
which they avail themselves of the rain to increase the height of their
abode, present to the contemplative observer a scene of considerable
interest.
I sometimes, however, laboured under an apprehension that the building
could not possibly resist its own weight, and that such extensive
ceilings, sustained only by a few pillars, would fall into ruin from
the rain which continually fell upon them;--but I was quickly convinced
of their stability, from observing that the earth, brought by these
insects, adhered at all points, on the slightest contact; and that the
rain, so far from lessening the cohesion of its particles, appeared
even to increase it. Thus, instead of injuring the building, it even
contributed to render it still more secure.
These parcels of moistened earth, which are only held together by
juxtaposition, require a fall of rain to cement them more closely,
and thus varnish over, as it were, those places where the walls and
galleries remain uncovered. All inequalities in the masonry then
disappear. The upper part of these stories, formed of several pieces
brought together, presents but one single layer of compact earth. They
require for their complete consolidation nothing but the heat of the
sun. It sometimes, however, happens that a violent rain will destroy
the apartments, especially should they be but slightly arched; but
under these circumstances the ants reconstruct them with wonderful
patience.
These different labours were carried on at the same time, and were
so closely followed up in the different quarters, that the Ant-hill
received an additional story in the course of seven or eight hours.
All the vaulted ceilings, being formed upon a regular plan, and at
equal distances from one wall to the other, constituted, when finished,
but one single roof. Scarcely had the ants finished this story than
they began constructing another; but they had not time to finish it:
the rain ceasing before the ceiling was fully completed. They still,
however, continued their work for a few hours, taking advantage of
the humidity of the earth; but a keen north wind soon sprung up, and
hastily dried the collected fragments, which, no longer possessing
the same adherence, readily fell into powder. The ants, finding their
efforts ineffectual, were at length discouraged, and abandoned their
employment; but what was my astonishment, when I saw them destroy all
the apartments that were yet uncovered, scattering here and there over
the last story, the materials of which they had been composed! These
facts incontestably prove, that they employ neither gum, nor any kind
of cement to bind together the several substances of their nest, but
in place of this avail themselves of the rain, to work or knead the
earth, leaving the sun and wind to dry and consolidate it.[6] In the
simplicity of these means, I recognised the hand of Nature: however,
I still thought it necessary to make an experiment to be convinced of
the correctness of these results. A few days after, I endeavoured to
excite them to recommence their labours by an artificial shower. With
this view, I took a very strong brush which I plunged in water, and
passing my hand backwards and forwards over the hairs, produced upon
the surface of the Ant-hill a very fine dew. The ants perceiving from
the interior of their dwelling, the humidity of the roof, came out
and passed rapidly over the surface; the sprinkling was continued; the
Masons were deceived. They went to the bottom of the Nest to provide
themselves with little masses of Earth, which they afterwards brought
and deposited on the roof; they then constructed walls and chambers;
in a word, a complete story was erected in the course of a few hours.
This experiment I frequently repeated, and always with the same
success. It is in the Spring more particularly, that the Mason Ants
avail themselves of the rain when they wish to enlarge the boundaries
of their nest. Night even does not arrest their progress. I have often
noticed in the morning stories that had been completely erected during
the night.
[6] I was in the habit of visiting, almost daily, for a month, an
extensive nest of Red Ants, of which a large flat stone formed the
roof.--During my visits for the first three weeks, scarcely a drop of
rain had fallen, and the nest seemed to be considerably injured by
the continual falling in of loose earth, which these little creatures
with amazing industry removed, whenever it happened any of the avenues
were blocked up. No attempt was ever made towards reparation; but
what was my surprise on visiting my little friends, after a two days’
heavy rain, to find, that the repairs were already completed, and that
the upper surface of their habitation presented as smooth a surface
as if a trowel had been passed over it; yet all their work they had
industriously effected by _kneading_ with the rain-water, the loose
earth into a sort of paste. From the nest being situated in the midst
of an extensive heath, where there could be no supply of water, and
from its remaining unrepaired during the dry weather, it amounts to a
full conviction, that Ants employ no other cement than water, in the
construction of their varied habitations.--T.
The ants, not content with giving additional elevation to their
abode, hollow out, in the earth, apartments still more spacious;
the materials thus obtained, are, as before stated, employed in the
exterior construction. The art of these insects, therefore, consists
in their executing, at the same time, two contrary operations, the one
of mining, the other of building, making the former subservient to the
latter; and what is still as singular, the same talent is manifested in
these excavations, as in that portion of the building above ground. The
humidity which penetrates to the bottom of their nest, is doubtless of
great assistance to them in these labours.[7]
[7] It may not be uninteresting after this account of the labours of
the Mason-Ants, to give a sketch of the manner in which the Termites,
or what have been termed by travellers, White Ants, so abundant in
Africa, construct their dwelling. Compared with the Architects, their
habitations are of an astonishing magnitude; they frequently exceed
twelve feet in height, and are so firmly cemented as to bear the
pressure of several men at the same time. It often happens that, whilst
a herd of wild cattle are quietly grazing below, one of their body is
stationed on them as sentinel, to give timely notice of approaching
danger. The Termites begin constructing their habitations, by raising,
at little distances from each other, several turrets of compact clay in
the shape of sugar-loaves: upon these they erect others; those in the
centre run to the greatest height: they afterwards cover in the spaces
between them, and then take down the sides of all the inner turrets,
leaving only the upper portion to form the cupola or dome, making use
of the clay they thus procure, in the formation of the several chambers
intended for magazines, nurseries, &c. The nurseries are entirely
composed of wooden materials, enclosed in chambers of clay, usually
half an inch in width, ranged around, and as close as possible to the
royal apartment. The royal chamber, which, with the rest, are arched
over, occupies as nearly as possible the centre of the building, and
is on a level with the surface of the ground; it is at first only an
inch in length, but increases in size with that of the Queen, until it
extends to six or more inches. In this chamber the King and Queen are
retained close captives; it is impossible they can ever quit it; the
entrance only allowing of the passing and repassing of the Soldiers and
Labourers (the Queen, in the last stage of her pregnancy, is 1000 times
the weight of the King, and equal in bulk to about 20,000 Labourers,
although, on her first appearance as a winged insect, she equalled only
in bulk about 30 Labourers,--her abdomen increases from half an inch
to three inches in length, and she lays, according to Smeathman, as
many as 80,000 eggs in the course of 24 hours: hence the necessity for
the numerous attendants by whom she is continually surrounded.) In an
Ant-Hill of such extensive size, and where there is such an infinity
of chambers to accommodate its numerous inhabitants, there must be of
necessity a vast number of subterraneous and winding passages. These
passages, which conduct to the upper parts of the dome, are carried in
a spiral manner round the building, for the Labourers find it extremely
difficult to ascend in a less circuitous direction. Very frequently,
however, to shorten the distance to the upper nurseries, where they
have to take the eggs, they project an arch of about ten inches in
length, and half an inch in breadth, grooved or worked into steps, on
its upper surface to allow of a more easy passage. When these insects
quit their nest on any expedition, they construct covered galleries of
clay which sometimes run to a considerable distance, and under this
they continue their extensive and highly dreaded depredations.--T.
3. ARCHITECTURE OF THE DARK ASH-COLOURED ANTS.
These Ants, which are fully described in the Appendix, are
distinguished, according to Latreille, by their having the body, head,
and abdomen, of a shining dark ash-colour, the base of the antennæ and
the feet reddish, the scale large and nearly triangular, and three
small _ocelli_ or simple eyes.
The Ash-coloured Ants build in a manner very different from the Brown
Ants. We have already seen from the description of their dwelling,
that, in comparison to the latter, it is exceedingly simple and heavy
in its construction. This simplicity, however, was better adapted to
my object,--that of examining, if possible, how many ants could concur
in the execution of the same design, and how far they appeared to
understand each other in the general progress of their labour;--that of
discovering also, if they acted in concert, or independently of each
other; of their own accord, or from some general impulse. I do not
flatter myself that I have solved these important questions, but the
facts I am about to adduce, will, at least, serve to elucidate this
subject.
When the Ash-coloured Ants seem desirous to give greater elevation to
their dwelling, they commence, by placing over the roof a thick layer
of earth, which they bring from the interior. It is here they trace
_en creux et en relief_, the plan of a new story; they, at first, form
here and there little dykes more or less close to each other, and of a
breadth proportioned to the use for which they are designed: they give
them nearly equal depth, for the most part equalling their breadth: the
masses of earth left between them, serve afterwards, for the foundation
of the inner walls. Having removed all the useless earth from the
bottom of each chamber, and reduced to their proper thickness the
foundation of the walls, the architects have nothing more to do, than
to increase the height of their building, and cover over with a ceiling
the several apartments.
After witnessing the manner in which these ant-hills are constructed, I
was aware that the best and only mode of attaining a correct knowledge
of their organization, was that of following individually the conduct
of the Labourers engaged in erecting them. My journals are filled with
observations of this nature. I extract a few that seem to possess some
interest. I shall at present describe the operations of a single ant
that I observed sufficiently long to satisfy my curiosity.
One rainy day, I observed a Labourer digging the ground near the
aperture which gave entrance to the ant-hill. It placed in a heap
the several fragments it had scraped up, and formed them into small
pellets, which it deposited here and there upon the nest. It returned
constantly to the same place, and appeared to have a marked design, for
it laboured with ardour and perseverance. I remarked a slight furrow,
excavated in the ground in a straight line, representing the plan of
a path or gallery. The Labourer, the whole of whose movements fell
under my immediate observation, gave it greater depth and breadth, and
cleared out its borders; and I saw, at length--in which I could not be
deceived--that it had the intention of establishing an avenue which
was to lead from one of the stories to the under-ground chambers. This
path, which was about two or three inches in length, and formed by a
single ant, was opened above, and bordered on each side by a buttress
of earth: its concavity _en forme de gouttiere_ was of the most perfect
regularity; for the architect had not left an atom too much. The work
of this ant was so well followed and understood, that I could almost
to a certainty guess its next proceeding, and the very fragment it was
about to remove. At the side of the opening where this path terminated,
was a second opening to which it was necessary to arrive by some
road. The same ant engaged in and executed alone this undertaking. It
furrowed out and opened another path, parallel to the first, leaving
between each a little wall of three or four lines in height.
Those ants who lay the foundation of a wall, a chamber, or gallery,
from working separately, occasion now and then a want of coincidence
in the parts of the same or different objects. Such examples are of
no unfrequent occurrence, but they by no means embarrass them. What
follows proves that the workman, on discovering his error, knew how to
rectify it.
A wall had been erected with the view of sustaining a vaulted ceiling,
still incomplete, that had been projected from the wall of the opposite
chamber. The workman who began constructing it, had given it too little
elevation to meet the opposite partition upon which it was to rest. Had
it been continued on the original plan, it must infallibly have met
the wall at about one-half of its height, and this it was necessary
to avoid. This state of things very forcibly claimed my attention;
when one of the ants, arriving at the place, and visiting the works,
appeared to be struck by the difficulty which presented itself; but
this it as soon obviated, by taking down the ceiling and raising the
wall upon which it reposed. It then, in my presence, constructed a new
ceiling with the fragments of the former one.
When the ants commence any undertaking, one would suppose that they
worked after some preconceived idea, which indeed would seem verified
by the execution. Thus, should any ant discover upon the nest, two
stalks of plants, which lie cross-ways, a disposition favourable to
the construction of a lodge; or some little beams that may be useful
in forming its angles and sides, it examines the several parts with
attention, then distributes with much sagacity and address parcels of
earth, in the spaces, and along the stems, taking from every quarter
materials adapted to its object, sometimes, not caring to destroy the
work that others had commenced; so much are its motions regulated
by the idea it has conceived, and upon which it acts, with little
attention to all else around it. It goes and returns, until the plan is
sufficiently understood by its companions.
In another part of the same ant-hill, several fragments of straw seemed
expressly placed to form the roof of a large house; a workman took
advantage of this disposition: these fragments lying horizontally, at
half an inch distance from the ground, formed, in crossing each other,
an oblong parallelogram. The industrious insect commenced, by placing
earth in the several angles of this _carpentering_ work, and all along
the little beams of which it was composed. The same workman afterwards
placed several rows of the same materials against each other, when the
roof became very distinct. On perceiving the possibility of profiting
by another plant, to support a vertical wall, it began laying the
foundations of it; other ants having by this time arrived, finished in
common what this had commenced.[8]
[8] I have often been surprised at the ingenuity of these little
creatures, in availing themselves of contiguous blades of grass, stalks
of corn, &c., when they wish to enlarge the boundaries of their abode.
As these are usually met with in the erect position, they are admirably
calculated for pillars; they, therefore coat them over with a fine
paste of earth, giving them, by additional layers, the solidity they
judge necessary for the work on which they are engaged: they then leave
them to be consolidated by the wind, and afterwards spring a number
of arches, from pillar to pillar, and thus form an extensive saloon.
Should they be, at any time, in want of small apartments, they have
only to prepare a quantity of moistened earth, and by placing this
between the pillars, and carrying it up to the roof, leaving here and
there an aperture for entrance, their object is completely attained.--T.
From these observations, and a thousand similar, I am convinced that
each ant acts independently of its companions. The first who conceives
a plan of easy execution, immediately gives the sketch of it; others
have only to continue what this has begun, judging, from an inspection
of the first labours, in what they ought to engage. They can all lay
down plans, and continue to polish or retouch their work as occasion
requires. The water furnishes the cement they require, and the sun and
air harden the materials of which their edifice is composed. They have
no other chisel than their teeth, no other compass than their antennæ,
and no other trowel than their fore-feet, of which they make use in an
admirable manner, to affix and consolidate the moistened earth.
These, then, are the material and mechanical means which they employ in
their building. In following an instinct purely mechanical, they might
execute with precision, a geometrical and invariable plan, construct
walls of equal length and breadth, vaulted ceilings, whose curve would
only require a servile _obeissance_, and we should have been but
moderately surprised by their industry: but to form these irregular
domes, composed of so many stories; to distribute in a convenient,
yet varied manner, the apartments they include, and to seize the
most favourable time for their labours, but especially to vary them
according to circumstances; to profit by the _points d’appui_ that may
present themselves; and to judge of the advantage of such and such
operations, is it not necessary they should be endowed with faculties
closely approaching intelligence, and that, far from considering them
as automatons, Nature allows them to perceive the intention of those
labours in which they have been engaged?[9]
[9] For several curious particulars relative to the instinct of
insects, I refer to the _Introduction to Entomology, by Messrs.
Kirby and Spence_, vol. ii. p. 465.--This work I cannot too strongly
recommend to the notice of my readers; since it abounds in a variety of
interesting information, and possesses the no small advantage of being
equally amusing as instructive.--T.
I could readily bring forward numberless examples of the industry of
ants, in still mentioning after what manner several other species
construct their abode; but, not to abuse or weary the patience of my
readers, I shall not enter into a detail of the labours of the Field
Ants, who build little chambers, one above the other, along the stems
of plants, and who can, in time of need, connect grains of sand, by
juxta-position alone, or by the admixture of a little moistened earth;
nor of those of the Sanguine Ant, who are enabled to form from earth,
dry leaves, and other materials, a compact tissue, difficult to break,
and impenetrable to water; nor of those covered galleries, which the
Brown Ants construct with earth, conducting from their nest to the feet
of trees, and sometimes even to the origin of the branches, for the
purpose of arriving with greater security at the places where they find
their food.
4. ARCHITECTURE OF ANTS THAT FORM THEIR HABITATION IN TIMBER.[10]
[10] “Some ants” says Kirby, “form their nests entirely of the leaves
of trees. One of these was observed by Sir Joseph Banks in New South
Wales, which was formed by glueing together several leaves as large
as a hand. To keep these leaves in a proper position, thousands of
ants united their strength, and if driven away, the leaves spring back
with great violence.” Latreille speaks of an ant which is met with at
Cayenne (_F. bispinosa_) that forms its nest of a great quantity of
down, which it removes from the seeds of a species of the cotton-tree.
Madame Merian, in her “_Insectes de Surinam_,” speaks of an ant,
which, in Tobago, is called the _parasol ant_. They are in the habit
of cutting out circular pieces from the leaves of trees and plants
(in this respect resembling the _apis papaveris_), and carrying them
off to their nest. When thus engaged, they bear some resemblance to
individuals walking with parasols, hence their name. Smeathman informs
us, that one species of the Termites, or what are commonly known
under the name of White Ants (_T. arborum_) builds its nest among the
branches of trees; and we learn from M. de Laubere, that in that part
of Siam which is exposed to inundations, all the ants construct their
habitations in trees.--T.
Is it not a matter of astonishment, that Nature should have given
to insects of the same genus, manners so varied, and an industry
so widely different? Ants furnish us with one of the most striking
examples of this kind. We have just completed a sketch of the several
species of Mason-ants; each building in a different manner, and
offering some striking peculiarities in the style and mode of their
architecture. That of the Fallow-ants is founded upon different
principles, and the industry of those who excavate their dwelling in
wood, has no point of resemblance with that of the species of which
we have lately treated. This tribe of ants includes several species;
and we still observe in their architectural labours very sensible
shades of difference: all these insects enter into the first of the
nine divisions into which Latreille has distributed ants, it includes
the Brown, the Ash-coloured, the Fallow, the Mining, the Sanguine,
the Fuliginous, and the Yellow Ant, &c. These ants possess the same
exterior organs, a similarity of the means employed in constructing
their dwellings, and resemblances in figure, which have occasioned them
to be placed under the same division; their instinct, however, places
them at a considerable distance from each other, plainly showing that
we cannot always form a correct judgment of the manners and customs of
insects from analogy.
The labours of those ants that inhabit trees, or what we may term
Timber Ants, are less open to general observation than those already
described, and have, in consequence, received but little attention from
naturalists.
The ant holding the first rank in this division, is, the Fuliginous,
so called on account of its colour. It is of a shining black, and is
two lines in length; its republics, composed of a great number of
individuals, are less common than those of which we have hitherto
spoken.
Let us figure to ourselves the interior of a tree entirely sculptured
or hollowed out, consisting of numberless stories, more or less
horizontal, whose floors and ceilings are at five or six lines’
distance from each other, and as thin as a card, supported at one time
by vertical partitions, forming an infinity of chambers; at another
time, by a series of small slender columns, allowing us to observe
between them the extent of an almost entire story; the whole, composed
of a blackish, and as it were smoked wood; and we shall have a just
idea of the cities of these ants.
The greater number of the vertical partitions, which divide each story
into compartments, are parallel; they follow the course of the ligneous
layers, and are always concentrical, which gives to their work some
degree of regularity. The floors, generally speaking, are horizontal.
The little columns are from one to two lines in thickness, more or
less round, of a height equal to that of the story they support, larger
above and below than in the middle, a little flattened at the capital
and base, and ranged in regular lines, since they have been worked out
in the parallel partitions. What numerous apartments! What a series
of lodges, halls and corridors do these insects not form by their own
unsupported industry; and what labour in so great an undertaking does
it not cost them!
The wood, in which ants of this species excavate these labyrinths,
takes a blackish hue:--does this arise from the extravasated fluids of
the tree entering into combination with the external air, or from the
emanation of the ants themselves, the odour of which may perhaps have
some influence; or do the layers of wood, exposed by these insects,
undergo any decomposition from combining with the formic acid? I cannot
decide this question; but I rest well assured, that the wood hewn
by these insects, is always blackish externally, and even takes the
same colour internally, provided it be very thin, preserving only its
natural colour when it has any degree of thickness. It appears that the
oak, willow, and other trees in which these ants establish themselves,
equally take these colours. I have often observed several other species
of ants lodged in the interior of trees, but the wood never presented
the same appearance. I have also often noticed at the foot of those
which were inhabited by Fuliginous Ants, a very abundant and blackish
liquid:--to what must this be attributed? The vegetation of these trees
does not appear in the slightest degree affected by the labours of
these insects.
It would be a highly interesting sight, could we observe ants occupied
in carving the wood in which they fix their residence, we might then
learn the origin of the black tint with which it is imbued; but the
labourers of this species working always in the interior of trees, and
desirous of being screened from observation, precludes every hope, on
our part, of following them in their several occupations. I tried every
expedient I could devise to surmount this difficulty; I endeavoured to
accustom these ants to live and work under my inspection, but all my
efforts were unsuccessful; they even abandoned the most considerable
portion of their nest to seek some new asylum, and spurned the honey
and sugar I offered them for nourishment. I was now, of necessity,
limited to the inspection alone of these edifices; but by decomposing
some of the fragments with care, I hoped to acquire some knowledge of
their organization. Here, we perceive horizontal galleries, hidden in
great part by their walls, which follow the circular direction of the
ligneous layers; there, parallel galleries, separated by extremely thin
partitions, having no communication except by a few oval apertures.
Such is the nature of these works, remarkable for their delicacy and
lightness.
In other fragments we notice avenues, opened laterally, including
portions of walls and transverse partitions, erected here and there,
within the galleries, so as to form separate chambers. When the work is
further advanced, we always observe round holes, encased, as it were,
between two pillars, cut out in the same wall. These holes in course of
time become square, and the pillars, originally arched at both ends,
are worked into regular columns by the chisel of our sculptors. This,
then, is the second specimen of their art. This portion of the edifice
will probably remain in this state.
But here are fragments differently wrought, in which these same
partitions, pierced now in every part, and hewn skilfully, are
transformed into colonnades, which sustain the upper stories, and leave
a free communication throughout their whole extent. We can readily
conceive how parallel galleries hollowed out upon the same plan,
and the sides taken down, leaving only from space to space what is
necessary to sustain their ceilings, may form an entire story; but as
each has been pierced separately, the flooring cannot be very level:
this, however, the ants turn to their advantage, since these furrows
are better adapted to retain the larvæ that may be placed there.
The stories constructed in the great roots offer greater irregularity
than those in the very body of the tree, arising, either from the
hardness and interlacing of the fibres, which renders the labour more
difficult, and obliges the labourers to depart from their accustomed
manner, or from their not observing in the extremities of their
edifice the same arrangement as in the centre: whatever it be, we
still find horizontal stories, and numerous partitions. If the work
be less regular, it becomes more delicate; for the ants, profiting by
the hardness and solidity of the material, give to their building an
extreme degree of lightness. I have seen fragments of from eight to ten
inches in length and of equal height, formed of wood as thin as paper,
containing a number of apartments, and presenting the most singular
appearance. At the entrance of these apartments, worked out with so
much care, are very considerable openings; but, in place of chambers,
and extensive galleries, the layers of the wood are hewn in arcades,
allowing the ants a free passage in every direction. These may be
regarded as the gates or vestibules conducting to the several lodges.
Fig. 3. and 4., Pl. I., give but a very imperfect idea of the labours
of these insects. The first represents a fragment taken from the trunk
of an oak inhabited by Fuliginous Ants; the second, a small portion of
their nest, taken from the roots of the same tree. To judge properly of
these fragments, we should place them in every position, we shall then
better observe their singular organization.
The Red Ant, a little larger than the preceding, forms a lodging in
trees, very analagous to the above, but upon a much smaller scale.
Their dwelling consists of stories more or less developed; some divided
into little chambers or lodges, the walls of which are remarkably thin;
others sustained by an infinity of little columns, resembling, in size
and colour, those of which we have already spoken. The wood, however,
is not blackened, as is the case with that excavated by the Fuliginous
Ants, but retains its original colour. It is commonly less hard, and of
the consistence of cork.
But what is most remarkable in the history of Red Ants is, that they
are not only carvers, but even skilful masons. They more frequently
fix their residence in the earth. This is not, however, the only
species that can, in time of need, display more than one talent in this
department. We are about to notice two kinds of ants which also enjoy
this privilege, the Ethiopian and the Yellow Ant. They have also an art
peculiar to them, of which I have not yet treated, and which must be
regarded as belonging to the architecture of ants.
5. ARCHITECTURE OF THOSE ANTS THAT FORM THEIR RESIDENCE OF SAW-DUST,
DECAYED TIMBER, &C.
The Ethiopian Ants, thus named, on account of their jet-black colour,
hollow out extensive lodges and long galleries in the oldest trees; but
if their works are proportioned to their size, which is greater than
that of other ants, they scarcely represent the infancy of the art by
the manner in which they are executed. What is most remarkable in their
industry is, the use they make of the wood fallen into powder at the
foot of the tree they inhabit, to stop up every chink in the flooring
of their houses, to close useless passages, and to make compartments in
those labyrinths which are too spacious.
The Yellow, one of the mason ants, shows great skill in the employment
of this substance, when it establishes its residence in a hollow tree;
it constructs entire stories with decayed wood, selecting the finest
particles, which, on being mixed up at the bottom of the tree with
a little earth and spider’s web, forms a mass of the consistency of
_papier mâché_. This industry recalls to mind that of wasps, as the
labours of the Mason and Timber Ants bring to our recollection those of
the Mason and Timber Bees.
The class of hymenopterous insects, the richest of all in varied
industry, in original manners and customs, in curious instinct, offers,
continually, similarities and contrasts; connections between genera the
farthest removed, and striking differences between species the most
approximate. The moral condition of these insects does not appear to
follow their physical condition; a truth of some importance to animal
physiology.
CHAP. II.
OF THE EGGS, LARVÆ, AND PUPÆ OF ANTS.
The exterior of ant-hills, their form and construction, have hitherto
entirely occupied us: it was, however, necessary to commence by
establishing the ants in their abode previous to describing the
rest of their labours. The object which will now evidently create
some interest, is that solicitude the workers evince for the object
of their charge, and the maternal attention they bestow upon them
from the period of their quitting the egg to that of their complete
developement.[1] Although several naturalists have studied the
metamorphosis of ants, and described the principal circumstances
connected with it, yet we are about to examine, under new relations,
the developement and education of these insects in their different
states. The history of the egg had entirely escaped their researches,
as well as several particulars in the history of the pupæ and larvæ.
[1] It would be perhaps more regular to speak of the fecundation of
ants, before making known the care and affection they evince for their
young. This plan, from which we could not well depart, in speaking of
insects that lead a solitary life, is not so natural, when treating
of numerous and permanent republics, such as those of ants. It would
have been difficult to have mentioned every circumstance connected
with the reproduction of the species, before describing the interior
of their habitations, and the method I found the most successful in
my observations. The education of their young, being the chief end of
all their labours, offers, in part, a picture of the manners of these
industrious insects. It is for this reason, the plan I now follow
appeared the best to elucidate subsequent remarks.--A.
My predecessors, not having made use of a glazed apparatus to observe
what passed in the interior of ant-hills, had but very rarely seen
these insects engaged in their household occupations; and this was not
so easy of accomplishment as it at first appeared.
These insects, although possessing so little timidity, and regardless,
as it concerns themselves, of the several changes in the weather,
evince the greatest concern for their little ones. For beings,
so delicately formed, they dread the slightest variations of the
atmosphere, are alarmed at the least danger which threatens them, and
seem particularly anxious to withdraw them from our notice.
I was in my first attempts continually disappointed, from the great
repugnance they manifested in allowing the light to penetrate their
abode: whenever I attempted to glaze their apartments, or to lay open
to view any of their halls or passages, if they did not completely
abandon them, they at least prevented me from following them in their
in-door labours. At one time they would darken, by a heap of different
materials, all the halls which admitted the light; at another time, as
if conscious that the glass, notwithstanding its transparency, could
guard them from the external air, and that nothing was wanting to
render it a true wall, but the power of excluding that glaring light,
at all times so disagreeable to them, they preserved entire all the
galleries contiguous to it, taking the sole precaution of covering
it over with a layer of moistened earth, which effectually hindered
further observation.
Thus disappointed, I employed a method more simple, though more
effectual:--I removed a portion of the ant-hill, and then placed over
the remainder a thin flat board inclined to the south; the ants,
attracted by the heat brought their little ones to this place. By
removing this outside shutter or _contrevent_, I could ascertain the
progress in their growth, although the workers, on being disturbed,
hastened to convey them to their under-ground quarters.
I was often obliged to vary the means I employed; for the ants, soon
wearied by my visits, still baffled all my efforts, by making a true
wall of earth behind the _contrevent_. After having for some time
attended to the manners and habits of these insects, I found that we
might accustom them by degrees to suffer the entrance of the light
in their abode; but it was necessary, notwithstanding, to use much
caution. What succeeded with me the best, was that of forming an oblong
opening in the middle of a table, and affixing underneath, a double
frame, glazed on its two longest sides, and opened only at the upper
part, which communicated with this aperture. These frames (fig. 1. Pl.
I.) being furnished with shutters, permitted me, either to observe the
ants, or to favour them in their taste for obscurity. This done, I
scattered all the materials of a nest of Fallow Ants upon the table,
and left them at liberty to arrange them at the bottom of the glazed
box, which they did in such a manner, that it was easy to observe all
their galleries, and the apartments to which they led. I at length
covered over the whole of the materials with a large bell-glass, in
order that I might witness the movements of my prisoners, as well
inside as on the outside, and at the same time guard against their
escape. But when I saw they were accustomed to their fate, and did not
seek to leave their prison, I allowed them free issue from under the
bell-glass, and the liberty of running over the platform upon which it
rested, taking only the precaution of plunging the feet of the table in
vessels filled with water, to arrest the ants in their passage, should
they attempt to escape.
This apparatus, and several others of which the explanation would be
long and tedious, had all the success I wished. I observed, with much
pleasure, that the ants continued to take care of the larvæ, which
proved, that in taking them, in some respects, from the state of
nature, I had not too much disturbed them. This gave me reason to hope,
that I should observe, in its greatest extent, all the care they took
of the rising generation.
I did not, however, always keep to these artificial means. I compared,
as often as possible, the conduct of my prisoners, with that of those
ants inhabiting and ranging about the fields, and as I never remarked
any sensible difference in their manner of acting, I concluded I could
trust the results obtained by means of my glazed apparatus.
Let us now open the shutter which conceals from us the interior of the
ant-hill, and let us see what is passing there.
Here, the pupæ are heaped up by hundreds in their spacious lodges;
there, the larvæ are collected together, and guarded by workers. In one
place, we observe an assemblage of eggs, in another place, some of the
workers seem occupied in following an ant of a larger size than the
rest;--this is the mother, or at least one of the females, for there
are always several in each ant-hill:--she lays as she walks, and the
guardians, by whom she is surrounded, take up her eggs, or seize them
at the very moment of her laying them; they collect them together, and
carry them in little heaps in their mouths.[2] On looking a little
closer, we find that they turn them continually with their tongues; it
even appears, they pass them one after the other between their teeth,
and thus keep them constantly moistened. Such is the first _aperçu_
which my glazed apparatus offered.
[2] The eggs of ants are so remarkably minute, that there would seem
an absolute necessity of their being held together by some glutinous
matter, otherwise, it would render the removal of such small bodies
in the mandibles of ants almost impossible; the mandibles being so
constituted as not to be brought into that close contact necessary for
this operation.--T.
Having directed my close attention to these eggs, I remarked they were
of different sizes, shades, and forms. The smallest were white, opake,
and cylindrical; the largest, transparent, and slightly arched at both
ends; those of a middle size were semi-transparent. In holding them
up to the light, I observed a sort of white oblong cloud; in some, a
transparent point might be remarked at the superior extremity; in
others, a clear zone above and underneath the little cloud. The largest
presented a single opake and whitish point in their interior. There
were some whose whole body was so remarkably clear, as to allow of
my observing very distinctly the rings. In fixing my attention more
closely upon the latter, I observed the egg open, and the larva appear
in its place.
Having compared these eggs with those just laid, I constantly found the
latter of a milky whiteness, completely opake, and smaller by one-half;
so that I had no reason to doubt of the eggs of ants receiving a
very considerable increase in size; that in elongating, they become
transparent, but do not at this time disclose the form of the worm
which is always arched.
To be convinced of the truth of this statement, I viewed these eggs
with the microscope; I also measured them, and having separated them
from each other, found the longest to be those only in which the worms
were disclosed in my presence. If I removed them from the workers,
before they had attained their full length and transparency, they dried
up, and the worms never quitted them.
Is it, then, to the care which the workers take in passing them across
their mouths, that we must attribute the secret of their preservation?
Do these eggs require this humidity, or do they absorb a part of it,
to furnish nourishment to the little worms they contain? It appears
at least highly probable; and the observations of M. Reaumur give
weight to this opinion. I have discovered in his writings, that there
are other eggs, which also increase in size,--as those lodged in the
galls of different trees, which are occasioned by _Cynips_[3], or other
insects of the same kind.
[3] To these insects we are indebted for that valuable article of
commerce, the gall-nut. The _Cynips_ is furnished with a finely-pointed
instrument, with which it wounds the leaves and other parts of the
tree, for the sake of depositing its eggs. The puncture of the leaves,
&c. gives rise to those excrescences termed galls, which not only form
the habitation, for a considerable period, of the infant insect, but
serve it the whole time of its imprisonment for food. On examining the
galls, some will be found to have an opening in them; these are they,
from which the fly has escaped: others, that want this aperture, will
be found to contain the insect, either in its larva, pupa, or imago
state; for it appears these several changes, at least with some of the
species, take place within the body of the gall.--T.
“It ought not,” says this exact and judicious observer, “to be passed
by in silence, that the egg which I found in the gall appeared to
me considerably larger than the eggs of the same species, when they
proceed from the body of the fly, or even when they are taken from the
body of the impregnated or mother-fly, near the time of their being
laid. The whole of those I took from the abdomen of the flies I killed
were remarkably small; it therefore appeared certain, that the egg
would have increased, and indeed had increased, in the gall.”
We are only in the habit of observing eggs surrounded by a covering
incapable of extension; but why is it that those eggs, which nature
has enclosed, in a flexible membrane, do not increase? The envelope
of the egg may, in this instance, be compared to the membrane which
includes the human fœtus, and those of quadrupeds.
Nature has formed the eggs of some other insects in such a manner,
that they are also capable of increase: such are, according to M.
Vallisnieri, the eggs of the _Tenthredo_, which produce those larvæ
that feed upon the rose.[4]
[4] Latreille alludes to this increase in the size of the eggs, both in
these insects, and the _Cynips_.--T.
These remarkable examples authorise me in admitting an increase in
size, in the eggs of ants, as fully proved; although it may not be
exactly under the same circumstances as those of which the philosopher
I have just quoted speaks; but if they are not surrounded with a
liquid, or preserved from the influence of the external air, their
pellicle, moistened every instant by the workers, may preserve a
certain degree of suppleness, and the faculty of extension, according
to the developement of the worm they enclose.
At the end of fifteen days, the little worm is seen to quit the shell:
its body is then perfectly transparent, and presents only a head and
rings, without any rudiment of feet or antennæ. The insect, at this
period, is completely dependant upon the workers.
I have been enabled to observe, through the glasses of my artificial
ant-hill, the great care taken of these little worms, which bear also
the name of Larvæ. They were generally guarded by a body of ants,
who, raised upon their feet, with their abdomen brought between these
members, were prepared to cast their venom upon all intruders, whilst,
here and there, other workers were engaged in clearing the passages, by
removing the materials which were out of place; a great number of their
companions taking at the same time their repose, and appearing to be
fast asleep: but a busy scene occurred at the moment of transporting
their little ones to enjoy the warmth of the sun. When the sun’s rays
fell upon the exterior portion of the nest, the ants, who were then
on the surface, descended with great rapidity to the bottom of the
ant-hill, struck with their antennæ the other ants, ran one after the
other, and jostled their companions, who mounted at the moment under
the bell-glass, and redescended with the same speed, putting in their
turn the whole colony in motion, so that we could observe a swarm of
workers, filling up all the passages; but what proved still more their
intention by these movements, was, the violence with which the workers
sometimes seized, with their mandibles, those who did not appear to
understand them, dragging them forth to the top of the ant-hill, and
immediately leaving them, to go and seek those still remaining with the
young.
As soon as the ants had intimation of the appearance of the Sun, they
occupied themselves with the larvæ and pupæ; they carried them with
all expedition above the ant-hill, where they left them exposed to
the influence of the heat. Their ardour suffered no relaxation; the
female larvæ (which are heavier, and much larger than those of the
other cast) were carried, with some difficulty, through the narrow
passages, leading from the interior to the exterior of the ant-hill,
and placed in the sun, by the side of those of the workers and males.
After remaining there a quarter of an hour, the ants again took them
up, and sheltered them from the direct rays of the sun, by placing them
in chambers, situated under a layer of straw, which did not entirely
intercept the heat.
The workers, after having fulfilled the duties imposed upon them in
regard to the larvæ, did not forget themselves; they sought, in their
turn, to stretch themselves in the sun, lay upon each other in heaps,
and seemed to enjoy some repose, but it was of no long duration. I
observed a great number constantly employed on the surface of the
ant-hill, and others engaged in carrying back the larvæ, in proportion
as the sun declined. The moment of nourishing them being at length
arrived, each ant approached a larva, and offered it food. “The larvæ
of ants,” observes M. Latreille, “resemble, when they quit the egg,
little white worms, destitute of feet, thick, short, and in form almost
conical; their body is composed of twelve rings; the anterior part is
slender and curved. We remark at the head two little horny pieces or
hooks, too distant from each other to be regarded as true teeth; under
these hooks we observe four little points or _cils_, two on each side,
and a _mamelon_, or tubercular process, almost cylindrical, soft, and
retractile, by which the larva receives its food.”[5]
[5] What a world of wonders is there not opened to our view, in the
transformations the insect tribe undergo, from the period of their
birth, to the full and complete development of their several organs.
Unless well assured of the fact, how could we imagine the feeble
helpless worm just described would ever become the industrious,
enterprising ant, furnished with organs of motion and of flight.
How devoid of probability would appear the statement, did we not
possess evidence to the contrary, that the magnificent butterfly we
see hovering from flower to flower, ever drew its origin from the
creeping caterpillar. But these changes, surprising as they are, are
yet equalled by other circumstances connected with the metamorphoses of
insects, for with these changes in appearance, the animal alters its
habits and mode of life. The butterfly in its first or larva state of
existence eats voraciously, and in a manner greatly disproportioned to
its size, devouring twice its weight of leaves in a day; in its second
or pupa state, this inordinate appetite ceases, and all its active
powers are suspended; in its third, imago, or perfect state, no longer
bound to the spot that gave it birth, it takes a wider range, cleaves
the regions of the air, and sips the nectar of flowers. That beautiful
silver-winged insect (_Libellula_) now crossing our path, passed the
first part of its existence as a water insect, and that little creature
(_Ephemera_) we see sporting in the sun-beam, whose existence as a
winged insect is limited only to a few hours, and seemingly with no
other view than that of continuing its kind, has also passed the first
period of its life in the same element. The common gnat, that so much
annoys us in our evening walks, was originally an inhabitant of some
stagnant pool. The beetle that flits along at even-tide, lay in a
worm-like state for a considerable period, locked up in the caverned
chambers of the earth, and--but why proceed, when the whole insect
tribe, generally speaking, undergo such developements.--T.
The ants do not prepare for their larvæ _provisions de bouche_, as
happens with several species of bees and other insects, which provide
before-hand for the wants of their little ones; they give them every
day the nourishment best suited to their condition; the instinct of the
larvæ is sufficiently developed, to enable them to demand and receive
their repast, in the same way as the young of birds receive it from
their parents. When hungry, they erect their body, and search with
their mouth that of the workers, who are appointed to nourish them. The
ant then separates its mandibles, and allows them to take from its very
mouth the fluids they seek.
I know not if these fluids undergo any change in the body of the
workers, but I am far from believing it to be the case, since I have
often seen the ants offer them nourishment, almost immediately after
they had themselves taken it; perhaps honey and sugar dissolved in
water. I presume, however, that the regimen is proportioned to the
age and sex of each individual, that the aliment is more substantial
the nearer the time of their metamorphosis, and that more is given
to the larvæ of females than to those of the workers and males; but
the questions which have reference to the quality and quantity of
these aliments are of difficult solution: however, as it is of some
importance to ascertain if the nourishment which the larva takes
has any influence upon the development of the sexes in the females
of ants, as obtains in bees, I purpose making some experiments by
nourishing myself the larvæ of different species. Let us at present
follow the workers in the last care they bestow upon the larvæ; it is
not sufficient to lay them in the sun and give them food; it is still
necessary to keep them remarkably clean. These insects, therefore, who
in point of tenderness to the young committed to their charge, do not
yield to any of the females of the larger animals, pass their tongue
and mandibles continually over their bodies, and thus render them
perfectly white.[6] The ants have also another occupation; that of
extricating them from their cuticle, which becomes distended and soft
at the period of their transformation.
[6] As these insects evince so much attachment to the charge committed
to their care, I was desirous of ascertaining if they would show
equal concern for the offspring of another species. For this purpose,
I visited a nest inhabited by the little black ant, where there
were only larvæ, and removed a few to a nest occupied by the yellow
ant, containing only pupæ. Here they lay for a time unnoticed. At
length, one or two of the ants took them up, with the intention of
carrying them away, when another, who appeared stationed as centinel,
ran violently against and overthrew them, thus occasioning them to
relinquish their hold: this part of the nest was at length deserted,
the larvæ were left where first deposited, and the centinel retired.
At this time not a single ant was within view. In about five minutes
a little troop sallied forth, and, as if acting under some general
impulse, carried off their unwelcome visitors to one of their
underground apartments. Visiting this nest from day to day, I never
afterwards saw these larvæ, and therefore, conclude they had been set
apart, where, from neglect, they had perished. Had the larvæ been
brought up in common with those of their own family, I must have
known it; for, as I before said, the nest contained pupæ only. In an
after-visit to this nest, I reversed the experiment, by carrying away
some of the pupæ, and placing them in the nest from which I had before
taken the larvæ. This done, a similar scene took place. The pupæ were
at first regarded with indifference. Some of the inhabitants then
attempted a removal, to which there was, for a time, strong opposition.
In a few minutes, however, they were carried off to the subterranean
chambers. In these experiments, there was this slight difference: in
the former instance, the ants retired, as it would seem, to deliberate;
in the latter, they remained the whole time within sight, a little
distance from the pupæ. Had the larvæ or pupæ been suffered to remain
where first placed, this would have greatly embarrassed the ants in
their daily operations, this being the spot where they were in the
habit of bringing their young to enjoy the sun’s warmth. But why they
should take them under-ground, in preference to carrying and depositing
them beyond the nest, is a question I can only answer by supposing
they there conveyed them to insure their certain destruction, and thus
prevent further molestation.--T.
Previous to changing this skin, the larvæ spin themselves a silken
covering or cocoon, (as is the case with many other insects,) in which
in the form of pupæ, they prepare to undergo their last metamorphosis.
This cocoon is of a cylindrical form, elongated, of a pale yellow
colour, and very smooth and close in its texture. A remarkable
circumstance for which no cause has been yet assigned is, that there
are ants whose larvæ never spin; but this exception only holds with
those species that possess a sting and two knots on the peduncle of the
abdomen. Thus, there are some larvæ which undergo their change in a
silken envelope, and others which become pupæ, without lying under the
necessity of spinning or weaving one.[7]
[7] Among the spinning larvæ, there are some whose web is marked with
a black point at one of the extremities, which has been taken for the
remains of the skin of the pupæ, which they reject in their preceding
state; but as I have found the cocoons, thus stained, before the larvæ
they contained had undergone their metamorphosis, this supposition
falls to the ground. I am fully convinced it is nothing more than the
residue of the aliment, which these insects discharge a little time
before their change.--A.
Gould is of our Author’s opinion; but Sir Edward King, who published
a memoir on ants in an early number of the Philosophical Transactions
conjectures, that it is a secretion cast out by the larva in its
transformation.--T.
The larvæ of some ants pass the winter heaped up in the lowermost floor
of their dwelling. I have found, at this period, very small larvæ in
the nests inhabited by the Yellow Ant, the Field Ant, and some other
species, but none, in those of the Fallow, Ash-coloured, and Mining
Ants. Those that are to pass the winter in this state are covered
with hair, which is not the case in summer; affording another proof
of that Providence at which naturalists are struck at every step. We
do not find the larvæ of males and females but in the spring; their
transformation takes place in the beginning of summer.
The insect, in the state of pupa, has acquired the figure it will
always preserve; nothing seems wanting but strength and a little more
consistence: it is also as large as it will ever be; all its members
are distinct, one single pellicle envelopes them. The ant, under
this form, continues to move for some moments after its quitting the
state of larva, but it soon becomes immoveable: it afterwards changes
gradually in colour, passing from a fine white to a pale yellow;
then becoming red, and in several species, brown, almost verging to
black. The rudiments of wings may at this time be seen in those which
are destined to fly. The pupæ have still many attentions to receive
from the workers; the greater part are enclosed in a tissue spun by
themselves before their metamorphosis; but they cannot, like other
insects, liberate themselves from this covering by effecting an opening
in it with their teeth. They have scarcely the power of moving; their
covering is of too compact a texture, and formed of too strong a silk,
to allow of their tearing it without the assistance of the workers.
But how do these indefatigable attendants ascertain the proper moment
for this process?--If they possessed the faculty of hearing, we might
imagine they knew the fit time, from some noise produced in the
interior of the prison by the insects whose developement has commenced;
but there is no indication favouring this opinion; it is probable they
have a knowledge of it from some slight movements that take place
within, which they ascertain through the medium of their antennæ; for
these organs are endowed with a sensibility, of which it would be
difficult to form a just idea: whatever it be, they are never deceived.
Let us still follow them in that labour, wherein are displayed, as it
regards their charge, a zeal and an attachment which would justly merit
our attention, even were they the real parents of these insects; how
much greater then must be our astonishment, when we consider that they
bear no further relation to them, than that of being born under the
same roof. Several males and females lay in their enveloping membrane
in one of the largest cavities of my glazed ant-hill. The Labourers,
assembled together, appeared to be in continual motion around them. I
noticed three or four mounted upon one of these cocoons, endeavouring
to open it with their teeth at that extremity answering to the head
of the pupa; they began thinning it, by tearing away some threads
of silk where they wished to pierce it; and at length, by dint of
pinching and biting this tissue, so extremely difficult to break, they
formed in it a vast number of apertures. They afterwards attempted to
enlarge these openings, by tearing or drawing away the silk; but these
efforts proving ineffectual, they passed one of their teeth into the
cocoon, through the apertures they had formed, and by cutting each
thread, one after the other, with great patience, at length effected
a passage, of a line in diameter, in the superior part of the web.
They now uncovered the head and feet of the insect to which they were
desirous of giving liberty, but before they could release it, it was
absolutely necessary to enlarge the opening; for this purpose, these
guardians cut out a portion in the longitudinal direction of the
cocoon, with their teeth alone, employing these instruments as we are
in the habit of employing a pair of scissars. A considerable degree of
agitation prevailed in this part of the ant-hill; a number of ants were
occupied in disengaging the winged individual of its envelope; they
took repose and relieved each other by turns, evincing great eagerness
in seconding their companions in this undertaking.[8] To effect its
speedy liberation, some raised up the portion or _bandalette_ cut out
in the length of the cocoon; whilst others drew it gently from its
imprisonment. When the ant was extricated from its enveloping membrane,
it was not, like other insects, capable of enjoying its freedom,
and taking flight: nature did not will it that it should so soon be
independent of the labourers. It could neither fly, nor walk, nor
without difficulty stand; for the body was still confined by another
membrane, from which it could not, by its own exertions, disengage
itself.
[8] Among those ants I kept in confinement, I observed that
considerable bustle prevailed when any of the pupæ were about to quit
the cocoon. For the most part, two or three stationed themselves on
or near each cocoon. From seeing, more than once, two engaged in the
operation of extricating the imprisoned ant from its envelope, I was
desirous of ascertaining whether a single worker could accomplish this
operation. I therefore placed in a wine glass with a little moistened
earth one of the Yellow Ants with three or four pupæ; the first object
with this little creature, was that of excavating a chamber for the
deposition of its treasure. The pupæ were then brought up, and laid on
the surface of the earth, from day to day, to receive the sun’s warmth.
In a few days, I saw the scattered remnants of one of the cocoons,
and the worker with his assistant engaged in giving liberty to the
remaining ants. I did not, at the time, notice whether the pupæ were
or were not capable of effecting their own liberation; but according
to the statement of De Geer, the pupa dies when neglected by the
workers.--T.
In this fresh embarrassment, the labourers did not forsake it; they
removed the satin-like pellicle which embraced every part of the body,
drew the antennæ gently from their investment, then disengaged the feet
and the wings, and lastly, the body, the abdomen, and its peduncle.
The insect was now in a condition to walk and receive nourishment, for
which it appeared there was urgent need. The first attention therefore,
paid it by the guardians, was that of giving it the food I had placed
within their reach.
The ants in every part of the ant-hill were occupied in giving liberty
to the males, females, and young labourers, that were still enveloped.
On being dispossessed of their coverings, the remnants were collected
and placed aside in one of the most distant lodges of their habitation;
for these insects observe the greatest order and regularity. Some
species of ants remove these shreds to a distance from the ant-hill,
others, cover the exterior surface of their nest with them, or collect
them in particular apartments.[9]
[9] M. Latreille has remarked, as well as De Geer, that, among the
Ash-coloured Ants, there are some pupæ which are naked, others enclosed
in a cocoon; but he does not know if there are any that undergo their
metamorphosis without spinning, or if the workers tear off their
enveloping membrane; however he leans to this latter opinion. I have
often made the same remark. I have even confirmed the conjecture he
had advanced, and often seen the ash-coloured labourers opening the
cocoon of the pupæ, a short period after their transformation. The
Mining Ants act the same: but for what purpose do they hasten to
liberate them, and of what advantage is it to the larvæ to spin, if
the workers so soon destroy the tissue they have woven? It cannot be
for the sake of unfolding their members from the last envelope in the
state of pupæ, for the ants do not render them this service until
they are capable of motion, and have acquired their full strength:
they even know the precise moment when to remove them. Are not these
cocoons of essential service to the larvæ at the time of passing to
the state of pupæ? I have frequently drawn from their cocoons, larvæ
which had just spun, and which were not yet metamorphosed: some days
after, they began rejecting their larva-skin, but could not disengage
their limbs, which, with the abdomen, remained attached to it. The
ants offered them no assistance. These pupæ were never well developed,
and they soon perished. It appears that these cocoons offered them
a point of support, enabling them to free themselves from the skin
which they are under the necessity of rejecting. It will be objected,
perhaps, that the larvæ of several species never spin, and they would
of course experience the same inconvenience as those I drew too hastily
from their cocoon. To this I answer, that nature has provided for this
case in another manner:--the body of these Ants is very different
from that of others, their elongated peduncle gives greater liberty
to the abdomen, to move, bend, and extend itself, than the peduncle
of the first, which is closely attached to the corslet. They have, in
addition, a sting, which may also facilitate their developement, for
the pupæ at first possess much strength and vivacity, although they
soon after pass into a state of lethargy.--A.
The labourers we have seen in charge of the larvæ and pupæ evince the
same solicitude for the ants, freshly transformed: they lie for some
days under the necessity of watching and following them; they accompany
them in their excursions, point out to them the paths and labyrinths of
their habitation, and nourish them with the greatest care; they also
perform the difficult task of extending the wings of the males and
females, which would otherwise remain folded up, and acquit themselves
with such address, as not to injure these frail and delicate members.
At one time, they bring together, in the same apartments, the males
they find rambling; at another time, act as guides in conducting them
from the ant-hill. In short, the labourers appear to have the complete
direction of their conduct, as long as they remain there, and neglect
not to discharge the several duties, connected with these insects
(whose strength is not yet developed) until the period of their taking
flight for the purpose of continuing their kind.
How can we sufficiently admire the assiduity which the labouring ants
evince for the little ones whose safety is confided to them!--By what
bond has nature attached them so strongly to the progeny of another
mother! This question having a reference to the different families
composed of three sorts of individuals,--the labourers, charged with
educating the young, fabricating, and provisioning the nest; and those
upon whom the office devolves of multiplying the species,--deserves
to be treated at greater length, and with greater attention, than our
confined knowledge permits. But we have a glimpse, however, of the
secret of this singular constitution, in the resemblance the labourers
have with the female ants, relatively to their external sexual organs.
The connexion which exists between ants, and hive and humble bees,
throws additional light upon this subject, by showing us labourers
demi-fecund with the one[10], and little rival females, abundant
enough with the other.[11] That solicitude also which the labouring
ants evince for the larvæ, whose birth they have witnessed, clearly
discovers their sex, and would be sufficient to prove that they are
neither neuters nor males, even if the conduct of the males towards
them did not indicate that they belong to the class of females. This
observation, which I have several times made, (the details of which I
suppress,) leaves me in no doubt upon this point. I shall here only
add, that I have never known the labouring ants produce eggs, and have
constantly found the approach of the male attended with the sacrifice
of their lives.
[10] Nouvelles Observations sur les Abeilles, par F. Huber.
[11] V. Linn. Trans. vol. vi. Memoir upon Humble Bees, by the Author of
these researches.
But with what view does nature permit as many sterile females among
ants as among wasps and bees? Is it not in order to increase the number
of individuals, in the same family, without producing a population that
would be more than proportioned to it?--In reserving a certain number
of females for conception, she has appointed others to take care of the
infant generation. She has even deprived the latter of the faculty of
flying; but in return for this, they enjoy a sweet recompense, either
(as we have no reason to doubt) by their being inspired for their
charge with the sentiments of mothers for their young, or by their
having an unlimited power over the other orders of the society in which
they live; a truth which I hope to establish in the course of this
work, and which differs widely from the received opinion, that these
republics are governed by several chiefs.
CHAP. III.
OF THE FECUNDATION, &C. OF ANTS.
1. _Departure of the Winged Ants._
Were we unable to determine the sexes of ants from the appearance
of those light and membranous wings with which some are furnished,
and others totally unprovided, we should still conclude, that the
former were destined to change their place of abode, the latter to
remain on the spot where they receive their birth. That prerogative
which distinguishes the males and females from the workers, has not
been granted them for the advantage of the colony in which they pass
the first period of their existence. They are neither called upon
to provision their abode, nor to seek, afar off, materials for its
construction. Nature has endowed them with instruments of flight, for
the well-being and continuance of the species, and for the purpose
of establishing ant-hills in every situation, and forming numerous
colonies. But how are these new colonies established? What particulars
do the amours of these winged ants offer us? Do the males and females
live in common? Have they the same instinct as the workers? What a
variety of questions could we not propose on this subject; a subject
hitherto but slightly touched upon, and by comparatively few authors,
and whose importance, as it regards the economy of ants, merits the
closest attention.
Having observed these insects in the interior of the ant-hill, remarked
their education, and the cares bestowed upon them, to the period when
they are in a condition to walk or fly, we shall now follow them out
of the nest, and, as far as possible, in their aërial excursions.
Let us lose sight for one moment of the glazed ant-hill. Let us retire
to a meadow, on a fine summer’s day, at a time when they first make
use of their wings, and take a survey of their habitation, on the
surface of which we shall observe walking to and fro many of its
winged inhabitants. These are the males and females of the Field Ants;
they climb all the plants which surround their residence, and are
every where accompanied by a multitude of workers, who follow their
steps with ceaseless solicitude. Some, however, attempt to retain and
reconduct them to the ant-hill; but the greater part content themselves
with simply escorting them. They offer them nourishment for the last
time, and render them the last token of their care and affection.
The dome of the ant-hill does not afford the winged ants a sufficiently
ample field for the display of their amours; the crowd by which they
are constantly surrounded seems to embarrass their movements; they soon
come to the determination of taking flight, and seeking in the air a
wider theatre, in which they can accomplish the wish of nature. But
what are those dazzling objects we see on that little hillock rising
above the grass? They are the male Ants who come forth by hundreds from
their subterranean residence, and display their silvery and transparent
wings as they wander over the surface of their nest. The females,
who are in much smaller number, soon join their paramours, proudly
displaying their big and highly bronzed abdomen, and occasionally
extending their glittering wings, whose ever-varying lustre adds much
to the beauty of this interesting assemblage.
Disorder and agitation are now manifest in the ant-hill; the bustle
increases every moment, the winged insects climb with great briskness
the neighbouring plants, followed by a numerous retinue of workers,
who are continually running from one male to another, touching them
with their antennæ, and offering them food.
The males, at length, quit the paternal roof and take flight, as from
one general impulse, in which they are quickly followed by the females.
The winged tribe soon disappear. The workers retrace for some instants
the steps of these highly favoured beings, to whom they have shown such
extreme care and attention, and whom they are never destined to see
more.
Many pleasing pictures are exhibited by the variety in colour and
form of this assemblage of insects. In some, the whole body is of one
uniform colour; the workers being yellow, the males black, and the
females flaxen. Their wings display all the brilliant hues of the
rainbow. In others, the body of the workers is of a dark ash-colour,
stained with red upon the corslet; the males, whose body is a deep
black, have the feet of a fine yellow, and the wings whitish;
the females have the corslet and abdomen brown, ornamented with
orange-coloured spots; the wings are transparent and blackish at their
extremities.
It is requisite that the temperature of the air should be at the 15°
or 16° of Reaumur (67° Fahrenheit), to allow of our witnessing the
departure of the males and females: unless this be the case, they
continue within the nest, sheltered from the wet and the cold air. When
the weather is favourable, the labourers, who seem to be aware of it,
form several apertures in the ant-hill, to give a ready passage to the
crowd that are about to quit it. The males and females may be then seen
coming to take the air at the entrance. The hour of departure arrives:
they all take flight. The workers alone re-enter the nest, and close
the entrances.
But let us continue our course, and still follow the winged ants in
their flight. A shower of these insects soon arrests the attention.
They fall from some height in the air, by pairs, roll themselves in
the dust, and sport in the grass. With some, the junction takes place
previous to their reaching the ground; with others, it is effected
upon the plants where they rest; some few disengage themselves from
their companions, and, mounting in the air, rejoin a cloud of other
winged ants, collected near the top of a tree, around which they
make continual evolutions. A little further off, I perceive other
assemblages of these winged insects, but of a different species; they
appear at a less height than the former, and somewhat resemble the
swarming of bees. The term of swarm, however, does not strictly apply
to this concourse of insects, who have no further object than that
of meeting each other, and effecting their union in the air, and who
do not assemble for the purpose of founding a new colony. I shall,
notwithstanding, use this expression, when speaking of a numerous
assemblage of ants, who fly about with a buzzing sound, without
separating. I presently perceived I was surrounded by winged ants:
several females were in the midst of this swarm; and these are they
who, doubtless, draw together all the males of which it is composed.
The swarm takes no particular direction, neither removing from, nor
approaching the ant-hill they had left; but, in place of this, raise
and lower themselves alternately, about ten feet from the surface of
the ground. Whilst this general movement takes place, which is effected
with considerable slowness, all the males forming the main body of the
swarm, fly in a zig-zag direction, with considerable rapidity: the
females, on the contrary, remain suspended, like balloons; they face
the wind, and seem in a state of immobility. They continue, however,
to ascend and descend with the swarm, until the males dart upon them,
separate them from the crowd, and impregnate them, even in mid-air.
I have often noticed, in the month of September, similar swarms. These
insects admitted of easy observation, since they were unembarrassed
by my presence. The sound produced by myriads of these insects did
not equal that of a single wasp. In every part of the meadow, these
assemblages might be witnessed: a zephyr was sufficient to disperse
them, but they quickly reformed a compact body. It often happened
several swarms were so intermingled as to constitute but one. I have
seen very considerable swarms, but ascertained nothing particular
respecting them.[1]
[1] Assemblages of winged ants have been also witnessed in this
country, as is evidenced by the following quotation:--“In the beginning
of August, 1812, I was going up the Orford river, in Suffolk, in a
row-boat, in the evening, when my attention was caught by an infinite
number of winged ants, both males and females, at which the fish were
every where darting, floating alive upon the surface of the water.
While passing the river, these had probably been precipitated into
it, either by the wind, or by a heavy shower, which had just fallen.
Captain Haverfield, R. N., gave me an account of an extraordinary
appearance of ants observed by him in the Medway, in the autumn of
1814, when he was first-lieutenant of the Clorinde, which is confirmed
by the following letter, addressed by the surgeon of that ship, now
Dr. Bromley, to Mr. Mac Leay:--‘In Sept. 1814, being on the deck of
the hulk of the Clorinde, my attention was drawn to the water by the
first-lieutenant (Haverfield) observing there was something black
floating down with the tide. On looking with a glass, I discovered they
were insects. The boat was sent, and brought a bucket full of them on
board; they proved to be a large species of ant, and extended from the
upper part of Salt-pan reach, out towards the great Nore, a distance
of five or six miles. The column appeared to be in breadth eight or
ten feet, and in height about six inches, which, I suppose, must have
been from their resting one upon another.’ These ants were winged.
Whence this immense column came was not ascertained. From the number
here agglomerated, one would think that all the ant-hills of Kent and
Surrey could scarcely have furnished a sufficient number of males and
females to form it. When Colonel Sir Augustus Frazer, of the Horse
Artillery, was surveying, on the 6th of October, 1813, the scene of the
battle of the Pyrennees from the summit of the mountain called Pena de
Aya, or Les quatre Couronnes, he and his friends were enveloped by a
swarm of ants, so numerous as entirely to intercept their view, so that
they were glad to remove to another station, in order to get rid of
them.”--_Introduction to Entomology_, by Kirby and Spence, Vol. II. p.
53.--T.
When a large body of these insects were hovering immediately over my
head, it would seem that I alone possessed the power of inducing them
to change their station, and of uniting them to others I observed
in the meadows. To effect this, I had only to walk slowly, the swarm
by which I was surrounded following and accompanying me in all my
movements, which I attribute either to my drawing after me the column
of air in which they were flying, or to their regarding me as the base
above which they were elevated, and, therefore, not aware of their
removing from the point of departure. I have never witnessed any of
those extensive swarms, of which M. Gleditsch has given us an account,
in the Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin. “He observed,” he says, “an
immense swarm of ants, which, viewed at a distance, produced an effect
very much resembling an aurora borealis, when, from the border of the
cloud, appear by jets several columns of flame and vapour, attended
with a variety of luminous rays and lines, forming no unapt resemblance
to forked lightning, although destitute of its brilliancy. Columns
of ants, but less distinct, were seen moving here and there, with
inexpressible swiftness, continually elevating, so that they at length
appeared to soar above the clouds. Arrived at this point, they so far
from totally, or even in part disappearing, seemed to form a more
compact body, becoming darker, from time to time. Other moving columns,
but more dilatory in their progress, followed the first, rising, in
like manner, occasionally darting forth, or mounting after each other
with equal swiftness. These several columns continued in motion during
the space of half an hour. Each column presented a species of close
net-work, and had an intestinal or undulating movement. On regarding
them a little nearer, I found them to consist of a numerous body of
flying insects. These insects, of small size, entirely black, and
winged, preserved the form of an unbroken column, continually ascending
and descending with great regularity.”[2]
[2] Bomare, Dict. d’Hist. Nat.
One would be inclined to believe, that these winged ants, whose aërial
excursions are completed, and whose impregnation has taken place
before us, recalled to the ant-hill, by an instinctive impulse, would
return to increase the population of their nest; that the males, now
useless, after consuming a part of the provisions of the large family
of which they are members, would experience the cruel fate attending
those of bees, and that the females would commit their eggs to the
charge of the same individuals who protected them in their infancy.
Several authors entertain this opinion, (among others De Geer); but
they advance nothing in support of it. It will be therefore expedient
to discuss the question which naturally arises from these facts.
The male and female ants, when they take a long flight from the
ant-hill, do not show that singular instinct which guides bees, wasps,
and other insects, in again finding their habitation. This instinct
consists, in their knowing how to move in every direction around their
abode, without straggling, in order to examine its position, and the
several places in its vicinity. We may be soon convinced of this by
displacing a hive. The first day the bees never venture abroad, unless
they have previously visited all the neighbouring objects: they turn
round on all sides, keeping an eye upon their dwelling, without which,
it may be readily conceived, it would be impossible they could return.
The Queen Bee does the same when she goes forth to meet her paramour in
the air.[3] But our winged ants, on the contrary, when they quit the
ant-hill, keep their back continually towards it, and go off in a right
line to a distance, from which it would be no easy matter to perceive
it. We might from this infer, that they would never return to it. But I
did not confine myself entirely to this observation; for I kept sentry,
from the time of their departure until night, and even several days in
succession, to be fully assured they did not return to the ant-hill.
In this way I have arrived at the conviction, that their return is
one of those fables with which we have been a long time amused. What,
then, becomes of these insects, accustomed as they have been, to live
in a convenient spacious abode, sheltered from every inclemency of the
weather, and receiving every attention from the labourers, suddenly
relying upon their own guidance, deprived of all these advantages? This
we shall learn in the following section.
[3] _Vide_ Observations upon Bees, addressed to Ch. Bonnet.
2. _History of Winged Ants after Impregnation._
The history of males, after they have discharged the only office to
which they appear destined, neither offers any proof of that courage
we should expect from their sex, nor of a laborious industry. We
know that in the class of insects with four membranous wings, the
males are destitute of offensive weapons, and do not possess that
admirable apparatus which the greater part of females put in use in
the establishment of their family; they have neither chisel-shaped
teeth, nor stings, nor ovipositors (_tarières_). The several arts
we remark among the greater number of bees and wasps, ichneumons
and tenthredines, &c. are exercised by the females alone, or by
the labourers, their representatives. The defence of the nest is
also confided to them: the males, after attending to the office of
reproduction, become useless to the family of which they are members.
The life of male ants cannot be of long duration; deprived of their
attendants, incapable of providing their own subsistence, and returning
no more to the ant-hill that gave them birth, how can it possibly be
of any long continuance? Their life is either naturally limited to a
few weeks, or hunger will speedily terminate it: whatever it be, they
disappear in a little time after the period of their amours; but they
never fall victims, as happens with bees, to the fury of the labourers.
At the period when the career of males is terminated, that of
the females is scarcely commenced: they bear the germs of future
generations, and these germs are fecundated. Their history is closely
connected with the history of ant-hills, and embraces several curious,
and hitherto unknown, particulars. Let us at first pass in review those
authors who have treated of it.
Swammerdam, to whom we are indebted for many excellent memoirs on the
metamorphoses of insects, and who was one of the first to point out
those which ants undergo, had never seen among them any winged females;
he, however, describes some of the species; he speaks of the males
being provided with four wings, and mentions several facts in their
history. Geoffry has witnessed wings upon females, but he denies their
ever being deprived of them. There are individuals who still believe,
as in the time of antiquity, that ants, at a certain age, acquire
wings. Linnæus, De Geer, Latreille, and other modern naturalists, agree
in stating, that the females of ants have wings, as well as the males,
and that in a little time after copulation, some are seen destitute
of these organs. This observation, repeated by so many learned
naturalists, is well entitled to our confidence. Swammerdam must,
therefore, have been deceived. By means of the glasses in my artificial
ant-hill, we have traced from its first commencement the developement
of their wings; we have seen the ants take flight, unite in the air
with the males, and hover in the midst of the swarm, which is almost
entirely composed of male insects. It would be difficult to be mistaken
in facts of this nature.
It has also been stated, that there are females without wings. Indeed,
every time I have opened ant-hills, I have found some entirely
destitute of these organs. Are these the females that are at one time
in the number of flying insects, and at another time reduced to the
condition of labourers? For what end, and how do these insects lose
their wings? In the following observations will, I think, be found the
solution of this problem.
One day, with the view of ascertaining the precise condition of the
females, I visited certain ant-hills, which I knew to be filled with
winged ants, of both sexes, and whose departure could not be very
distant. Scarcely had I reached the spot, when I saw pass over my head
several female ants, bearing the males behind them. I seized a few,
without injuring them, and found they belonged to the Brown Ant. Having
then approached the ant-hill, from whence I had seen them depart, I
observed several take flight, and quit their natal abode. The males
preceded them, and the labourers, as far as they could, accompanied
them. These females took a direction perpendicular to the horizon, and
were soon lost to sight. When they encountered the males sporting in
the air, they re-descended with their light burthen, and alighted upon
some shrubs. These couples soon separated.
I took eight females, still united with the males, and placed them in
a box, to observe them on my return; but a violent rain, which came
on at this moment, offered me a sight, as singular as unexpected. As
soon as the shower had passed, I saw the earth strewed with females
without wings. They were most likely the identical females I had seen
traversing the air. They were of the same species and colour as the
first. I had not quitted the place in which the ants had alighted.
Some still retained their wings; it was, therefore, an easy matter to
compare them.
On my return home, I placed my eight prisoners, with some moistened
earth, in a garden vase, covered with a glass receiver. It was nine
o’clock in the evening; at ten all the females had lost their wings,
which I observed scattered here and there, and had hidden themselves
under the earth. I had allowed the occasion to pass by, of witnessing
the separation of these fragile members, and of determining, if
possible, what had produced it.
On the following day, I procured three other females in union with
their males, and this time I observed them with the greatest attention,
from the moment of their fecundation, until nine in the evening;
a period of five hours. But during this time nothing was done to
denote the approaching loss of their wings, which remained still
firmly affixed. These females appeared to be in excellent condition:
they passed their feet across their mouths, then glided them over
the antennæ, and rubbed the legs one against the other. I could not
conceive what could retard the fall of their wings, whilst the other
ants had lost them so readily. It is true, that I placed those of which
I am now speaking, in a very strong box, completely closed, whilst
the former were deposited in a transparent vault, offering not the
slightest appearance of a prison, and upon a ground more natural than
the bottom of a sand-box, where there was no earth. I had no idea that
a circumstance so trifling would have any influence upon these ants;
however, having learned that it was necessary to place them as the
first, I took some earth, and strewed it lightly over the table, and
then covered it with a bell-glass. I yet possessed three fecundated
ants, one of which I introduced under the recipient. I induced her to
go there freely, by presenting to her a fragment of straw, on which she
mounted, and upon this I conveyed her to her new habitation without
touching her; scarcely did she perceive the earth which covered the
bottom of her abode, than she extended her wings, with some effort,
bringing them before her head, crossing them in every direction,
throwing them from side to side, and producing so many singular
contortions, that her four wings fell off at the same moment, in my
presence. After this change she reposed, brushed her corslet with her
feet, then traversed the ground, evidently appearing to seek a place
of shelter; she seemed not to have the slightest idea that she was
confined within a narrow enclosure. She partook of the honey I gave
her, and at last found a hiding-place under some loose earth, which
formed a little natural grotto.
If I was surprised at seeing this female strip herself of her wings
voluntarily, I was even more so, on finding that she did not appear
to suffer from it, and that, after an act which would seem to us any
thing but natural, she delivered herself peaceably to her appetite,
and sought a retreat, as if nothing out of the ordinary course had
happened. This fact merited confirmation.
I introduced a second female under the bell-glass about two hours after
the first, and with the same precaution, adding to the dry earth,
strewed over the table, a little water, in order to allow these insects
to undertake any labour to which their instinct might prompt them.
When she perceived that she stood upon moistened earth, she advanced
a few paces, then stopped to touch the ground with her antennæ. This
done, she took a position to facilitate the dispossession of her wings;
resting on her abdomen, she opened them in disorder, extended them in
every direction, passed her legs behind them, and pressed them closely
towards the ground. When she had succeeded in disembarrassing herself
of these organs, I observed her walk about tranquilly in her enclosure,
and begin constructing a grotto in the earth: thus, this second
experiment had all the success of the first.
I still possessed one pregnant female, which I reserved for the
following morning; she had not lost her wings before the experiment. I
introduced her under the recipient fifteen or sixteen hours later than
the others: she appeared to be in excellent condition, and apparently
had not suffered by this delay. Scarcely had she touched the ground,
than she hastened to get rid of her wings, employing the method already
described. I repeated the like experiment on several females of
different species, and always obtained the same result.[4]
[4] For the discovery of the female ants voluntarily depriving
themselves of their wings, after impregnation, we are certainly
indebted to our present author; but, as far as regards the simple
fact of these insects losing their wings, Linnæus, De Geer, &c. were
fully acquainted with it; to which indeed our author alludes. Gould
himself conjectured, that the females which fell under his notice once
possessed wings. After a few remarks on the condition of what he terms
ant-flies, he says, “If you strip a large ant-fly of its wings, when a
week old, or more, which is very easily done, for they will come off
by the most gentle touch imaginable, and then place it in a microscope
with a queen, you will perceive no manner of difference as to their
frame; the like indented places, or little hollows in the breast where
the wings commonly lie, will be found in each; from whence, there is
great reason to believe the queen was originally adorned with such
gaiety, and appeared in the character of a fly. It is also observable,
as a strong confirmation of this sentiment, that abundance of the large
ant-flies, just before or soon after leaving the colonies, actually
drop their wings, and, except a small difference in complexion, which
has not yet attained its true gloss, are not to be distinguished from
the queens. You may, the latter end of July, and great part of August,
often meet with these unwinged ants, travelling about, as it were, at
random. If you place a number of large ant-flies in a box, the wings of
many of them will, after some time, gradually fall off like autumnal
leaves. This circumstance is peculiar to the large sort; for if you
confine the small ones ever so long, their wings will continue fixed,
and cannot be separated without some difficulty.” In another place, he
observes, “the casting of their wings is an instance peculiar to the
large ant-flies. These are to other insects their highest decorations,
and the want of them lessens their beauty and shortens their life.
On the reverse, a large ant-fly gains by the loss, and is afterwards
promoted to a throne, and drops these external ornaments as emblems of
too much levity for a sovereign.”--T.
We see, then, that the females of ants lose their wings, but we little
expected they would themselves be the voluntary authors of it. Would
it not appear that nature takes delight in sporting with our judgment
in the variety and superiority of her plans, in the detail as well as
in the aggregate? We only judge from known facts; but nature does not
follow, and indeed is under no necessity of following, any invariable
rule: the fruitful source from which she receives her laws knows no
limits: every species has its own manners, every individual its own
particular constitution; hence arise the innumerable errors into which
we fall, the moment we leave the high-road of observation to be guided
by what appear to us general rules. But let us return to the history
of ants, which furnishes us many examples of the inefficiency of our
conjectures.
What will be the destiny of those ants who have been united with the
males in the air, and who have just mutilated themselves? We already
know they never return to their natal abode.
As soon as they have lost their wings, we observe them running over
the ground seeking an asylum. It would be extremely difficult at this
time to follow them, on account of the several turnings and windings
they make in the fields, and among the grass. I have not succeeded in
tracing them at the moment of their first establishment, but I rest
perfectly assured, from some experiments, that those females who are
not called upon to discharge any duty in the natal ant-hills, and
who appear incapable of acting by themselves, animated by maternal
love, and the need of putting in use all their faculties, become
industrious, and take care of their little ones with the same sedulous
attention as the common labourers.
I enclosed several pregnant females in a vessel full of light humid
earth, with which they constructed lodges, where they resided; some
singly, others in common. They laid their eggs and took great care of
them; and, notwithstanding the inconvenience of not being able to vary
the temperature of their habitation, they reared some, which became
larvæ, of a tolerable size, but which soon perished from the effect of
my own negligence.
I afterwards placed some other females in a similar apparatus, and
delivered to them some pupæ (labourers), to ascertain if their instinct
would teach them to open the covering in which they were enclosed.
Although these females were virgins, and provided with wings, they
laboured so well, that I found, on the following morning, three workers
among them. Some days after I saw them occupied in delivering other
labourers from their last envelope: they acted in the same way as
ordinary ants, and did not appear embarrassed in the part which they
now performed for the first time.
It is, therefore, evident, that females, in case of necessity, are
enabled, unassisted, to educate their family. If I have endeavoured to
assure myself of this fact by proofs still more positive, it was less
to remove any doubts on this point, than to satisfy my curiosity on the
composition of these new colonies.
After long researches, I discovered the retreat of these females, and
the nascent ant-hills they had established. They were situated at a
little depth in the earth. A small number of workers were seen by the
side of the mother, and some larvæ which they nourished. I have seen
two examples of these newly established colonies. One of my friends, M.
Perrot, of Neufchatel, a very excellent naturalist, whose observations
claim my greatest confidence, discovered, one day, in a little
underground cavity, a female ant, living solitarily with four pupæ, of
which she appeared to take great care.[5]
[5] “Upon frequent opening of mole-hills,” says Gould, “amongst them,
I met with three, in each of which was a cluster of large female ants,
amounting to six or seven in a cluster. They lay near the surface, but
had no regular apartment. Upon examining, and comparing them with a
queen, there was an exact agreement in colour, form, and structure.
Upon dissection, several of them had parcels of eggs in their insides.
I deposited one of the clusters in a box with some earth, under which
they concealed themselves, and united together, but did not work
any lodgement. Some time after, three or four of these females laid
a few eggs, but did not seem to take any great notice of them. For
curiosity, I placed in the box a cell of workers of the same species;
and it was surprising to observe what fondness was expressed. The
common ants immediately surrounded the females, took care of the eggs,
and, in a short period, made an apartment in the earth fit to receive
them. It may also be observed that there were no common ants in the
hills where I found the above clusters. In all probability they were
originally large ant-flies, which, having been expelled their colonies,
and not falling victims to their adversaries, associated together in
this manner, and survived the winter.”--There is no doubt but these
mole-hills were fixed upon by the females for the establishment of new
colonies; and from their consisting of loose earth, and presenting
several cavities, the labour of these insects in constructing a
dwelling must be considerably lessened. It is highly probable, they
had lately arrived there, and, therefore, had no time to commence
their architectural operations, it being remarked they had no regular
apartment. It would seem, by the above statement, that the females
go in small parties to found new colonies, as well as singly; which
must have happened with the female which fell under the notice of M.
Perrot. The female which this gentleman saw, was engaged in tending
her young. This certainly appears, on a first view, at variance with
Gould’s remark, that the females which laid eggs “did not seem to
take any great notice of them.” But it must be recollected, that the
females were not placed under similar circumstances: the former having
been discovered with her young in her own residence; the latter having
produced their eggs in confinement, and doubtless fully conscious of
it.--T.
There still remains another important question to solve--Would those
females, who had not received the addresses of the male also deprive
themselves of their wings, or would they continue to use them?
I took, at the end of April, from a nest of Yellow Ants, several
young females; their wings were unfolded, and of a whitish hue, like
those recently removed from their envelope. They enjoyed full liberty
in their habitation; which proves, as we shall presently see, that
they were still virgins. We know, moreover, that it is a very rare
occurrence should the males impregnate them in the interior of the
nest. I enclosed them in a glazed ant-hill, with some labourers of the
same family, and observed their conduct during several months. The
labourers were far from evincing the same degree of interest for them
as for pregnant females: they appeared to treat them with indifference;
and this was the more natural, as these females had adopted the manners
and character of the neuters. Their timidity had disappeared, and
given place to a sort of boldness, or rather irascibility, which I
perceived every time I opened the door to give them nourishment; they
darted forth upon my hands, and even pinched me more strongly than
the labourers: they knew, also, how to follow and catch the flies
I introduced into their nest; and did it with much promptitude and
dexterity: but they did not lose their wings, notwithstanding the long
proof to which I subjected them.
At another time, I placed several female virgins of the species of
Brown Ants, with a portion of their nest, under a bell-glass. They
remained there peaceably without taking up the choleric disposition of
the preceding; but these also preserved their wings.
I also placed ten other ants, equally virgins, in a vase, where I left
them six weeks. During this long captivity, they did not even attempt
to dispossess themselves of these members, which were still left to
fulfil the object of their destination.[6]
[6] I kept in captivity, upwards of a month, four female ants, two of
the Yellow and two of the Brown species: they still retained their
wings. These members would seem to be employed on no other occasion
than when they seek the males in the air, and search for a situation
favourable to a new establishment. I have often endeavoured, in their
natal residence, by irritating them, to induce them to take flight; but
never could succeed. It was, however, in this instance, scarcely to be
expected, since the _amor patriæ_ would restrain them. I have removed
them to a distance from the ant-hill, and placed them in the sunshine;
but all to no purpose. It, therefore, appears, they neither dispossess
themselves of these members until their impregnation has been effected,
nor make use of them, unless for the sole purpose of meeting their
paramours in the air, and seeking a place for the establishment of a
new colony.--T.
It appears to me, then, certain, that the females do not reject their
wings, but after fecundation; and that this act is, on their part,
completely voluntary, when they are to change their mode of life, and
withdraw to take all due care of the colony of which they bear the
future germs.
3. _The Conduct of Labourers towards the Pregnant Females._
All the females do not quit the metropolis: it is necessary some few
should remain to keep up the population. We shall now see in what
manner nature guards against that desertion of females with which the
ant-hill is threatened.
In speaking of the swarms of ants, I avoided making an observation,
which required some developement, and which comes in now in its
proper place. It is this: that the union of the sexes does not always
take place at a distance from the ant-hill. It ordinarily happens,
that the males, before setting off, leave in the ant-hill a few
impregnated females. The labourers, as if fully aware of the importance
of preserving females capable of maintaining the population of the
republic, carefully retain these valuable depositaries of a future
generation. Of this remarkable feature of their foresight or instinct,
I have been a frequent witness; not only on natural ant-hills, but
even in my glass apparatus, where I observed it under more detail. I
removed the bell-glass which was placed over them, because I perceived
it concentrated the rays of the sun upon the nest to that degree, that
its inhabitants could not support it, and removed my glazed ant-hill
to the garden, where I could observe the winged ants as if they were
in full liberty. The greater number of the females quitted the nest,
and never returned to it. A few remained upon the nest, and were there
impregnated. One, after copulation, was about to take flight, when the
labourers retained her by her feet, kept her down by main force, tore
off her wings, and conducted her back to her residence, where they
obstinately guarded her. Several others were seized by the labourers,
even in the very act of copulation, and immediately carried off to
the bottom of the frame, where I saw them mutilated, and retained in
captivity.[7]
[7] De Geer observed in a nest of Red Ants that the workers compelled
some females, that were come out of the nest, to re-enter it. I visited
twice or thrice a day, for some time, a colony of Red Ants, and never
observed any male or female in it. The workers were engaged in taking
care of the pupæ, which were in considerable number. What was my
surprise, to observe, at length, a mass of eggs apparently just laid,
which the workers, on my disturbing their abode, carried off with
amazing expedition. It does not seem likely that any female, after her
excursion in the air, should have alighted on their dwelling, since
they generally go and found new colonies. It is more probable this was
one of the females born in the nest, and, at the time of the males
and females taking their departure, had been retained by the workers,
in one of the lower apartments, for the sake of maintaining its
population.--T.
It is more especially with the Fuliginous Ants, that we can the more
readily observe this proceeding, since the departure of the winged
individuals of that species does not take place for a very considerable
period; previous to which the male and female insects go out each day
from their labyrinths, from two or three o’clock in the evening, until
the middle of night, walking along the trunk of the tree they inhabit.
The movement of those insects whom the labourers lead out of the nest,
progressively increases, and resembles a national fête, in which all
the individuals of the ant-hill take an active part: it is destined
to favour the rencontre and union of the sexes. I have often seen, in
those numerous gatherings, females retained by the workers, mutilated
in my presence, and carried back to the interior of the trunk; and,
although I have not surprised them in their embraces, I have no doubt
their imprisonment took its origin from their fecundation, which
I conjecture must have taken place, from the other ants remaining
perfectly free, from analogy with those ants of which I have before
spoken, and from my having several times seen the males follow the
females to the surface of the tree.
We see, then, that this numerous _cortège_ of labourers, which we have
often observed, without knowing their purport, is not a homage they
render the winged ants, but is destined to favour the seizure of those
females whose impregnation takes place upon the very nest.
The females that become prisoners from the moment of their
fecundation, and are conducted into the interior of the nest, commence
by being entirely dependent upon the workers. The latter, hanging to
each of their legs, guard them with assiduity, and never permit them
to go out. They nourish them with the greatest care, and conduct them
into quarters whose temperature appears the best adapted to them; but
they do not abandon them an instant. Each of these females loses, by
degrees, the desire of quitting her abode. Her abdomen increases in
size: at this period, she no longer experiences constraint. She has
still a constant guard; a single ant accompanies her every where, and
provides for her necessities. The greater part of the time the worker
rests upon its abdomen, with its posterior legs stretched out upon the
ground. It appears to be a sentinel stationed to survey the female’s
actions, and to seize the first moment when she begins to lay, to carry
off the eggs. It is not always the same ant which follows her; this is
relieved by others, who succeed it without interruption; but when the
maternity of the female is well known, they commence by rendering her
that homage which the bees evince for their queen. A court of from ten
to fifteen ants continually follow her; she is unceasingly the object
of their cares and caresses; all are eager to collect around her, offer
her nourishment, and conduct her in their mandibles, through difficult
and ascending passages. They also lead her through all the different
quarters of the ant-hill. The eggs, taken up by the labourers, at the
instant of their being laid, are collected around her. When she seeks
repose, a group of ants environ her. Several females live in the same
nest; they show no rivalry; each has her court; they pass each other
uninjured, and sustain, in common, the population of the ant-hill; but
they possess no power; which, it would seem, entirely lodges with the
neuters. However, as they receive the same honours as queen bees, I
shall sometimes give them the titles of queens.[8]
[8] “In whatever apartment,” says Gould, “a queen ant condescends to
be present, she commands obedience and respect. An universal gladness
spreads itself through the whole cell, which is expressed by particular
acts of joy and exultation. They have a peculiar way of skipping,
leaping, and standing upon their hind-legs, and prancing with the
others. These frolics they make use of, both to congratulate each
other when they meet, and to show their regard for the queen. Some of
them gently walk over her, others dance round her, and all endeavour
to exert their loyalty and affection. She is generally encircled with
a cluster of attendants, who, if you separate them from her, soon
collect themselves into a body, and inclose her in the midst. However
romantic this description may appear, it may easily be proved by an
obvious experiment. If you place a queen ant, with her retinue under a
glass, you will, in a few moments, be convinced of the honour they pay,
and esteem they entertain for her.” In reference to no rivalry being
experienced, he says, “You may sometimes expect to find two Yellow
Queens in the same colony. I have once or twice met with three. They
most usually reside in the same lodgment, and live together in perfect
harmony and union.”--T.
To give a better idea of that species of interest which the females
excite in the labourers, and the attention the latter bestow upon
them, I shall enter into some details which will sufficiently prove
their instinct.
Stopping, one day, near one of those bands of ants, who were advancing
in file, I saw a female carried by a labourer, hanging to, and
suspended by its mandibles; their teeth were crossed, and the body of
the female was rolled up, like the trunk of a butterfly. It seems a
matter of astonishment that a labourer should carry a female; but the
latter possesses the art of rolling herself up into so small a compass,
as not to restrain the movements of the former. We are fully aware
that the strength of ants is not proportioned to their diminutiveness.
I seized the female and its companion, and found them to be of the
species of Fallow Ants. Having placed them immediately in liberty,
in the midst of their companions, several surrounded the female, and
caressed her with their antennæ. At length one of the labourers, after
giving her several gentle blows with the antennæ over the head, took
her up gently by its mandibles, when she laid hold of them, and rolled
herself into a ball, under the corslet of the worker, who commenced
his route, charged with his heavy burthen, proceeding at a quick pace,
followed by the other ants, who came, from time to time, to touch the
object of their solicitude. When the bearer was fatigued, it turned
round; the female then unrolled her body, and, in place of being
carried, was dragged along by the worker, who moved in a retrograde
direction, with very little effort. Sometimes the queen stopped, for
the purpose of changing her conductor: all her court then surrounded
and offered her every mark of attention. In witnessing this scene, I
was brought to the entrance of the ant-hill, where I lost sight of the
female and her retinue.
At another time, I took some Yellow Ants from their nest, with one of
their females, and many small larvæ. I enclosed them in a glazed box,
giving them earth, and supplying them with food. This box remained in
my chamber during the whole of the winter. The ants were by no means
benumbed; they appeared to follow, in every respect, their instinct,
which was most remarkable, near the female, who, every time she
attempted to move, was surrounded by so great a multitude of workers,
that it was only by their very slow movement I could be assured of
her existence. On my too frequently visiting the chamber in which she
commonly rested, her guardians prepared for her another, at a little
distance, and conducted her to it, enticing her forward by offering her
food.
I preserved this family from the month of November to the end of April.
I then removed it to another apparatus. In lieu of a glazed box, I took
a large glass, in the bottom of which I placed a little earth. I then
covered it over with a little piece of wood, which entered about midway
into the vessel; and on the outside of this wood or plank, in which an
opening had been made, I placed a variety of plants, chosen from among
those which afford nourishment to the _pucerons_. We know that ants
are very friendly to these insects, since they furnish them with their
principal subsistence. It was in the superior part of the vessel that I
placed the ants, their female, their larvæ, and their _pucerons_. They
gathered together a little earth, which they found scattered over the
leaves, and constructed with it a little lodge, between the branches,
where they conducted their queen. In a few days they discovered a
narrow passage between the glass and the border of the plank, and
finding some moist earth underneath, they lost no time in constructing,
in this place, lodges, paths, and vaulted chambers. They transported
thither the greater part of the larvæ; but they could not so easily
introduce the female. She had descended to the border of the plank very
willingly, and endeavoured to pass the opening which lay between it
and the side of the glass. She placed her head almost every moment at
this opening, making every effort to enter, as if she were aware there
was a space underneath, where she would be more conveniently lodged.
She at length found a place of sufficient width to thrust in the
whole of her head. The ants in the lower story, rubbed her with their
mandibles, and caressed her with their antennæ, as if to invite her
to follow them. Some seized her by their mandibles; others, mounting
upon the plank, drew her by her legs towards the lower apartment. She
several successive times vainly attempted to insinuate her body. The
ants collected around her, licked her, and seemed desirous to repair
the injury her unfruitful efforts had occasioned. I now seconded the
wish of these insects. Slightly moving aside the plank, the workers
were enabled to lead the female to the bottom of her abode, without
further obstacle.
We see by these details of the conduct of the workers in regard to
females, that if they have deprived them of their liberty, and their
wings, it is with no other view than that of insuring the population
of the ant-hill, and that the condition to which nature destines them
yields, in no respect, to that of queen bees.[9]
[9] The attachment of the labourers to the females would appear to
extend even beyond the existence of the latter; for, when a pregnant
female dies, five or six labourers rest near her, and, during several
days, brush and lick her continually, either in token of lasting
affection, or that by these means they hope to reanimate her.--A.
Nature has provided, then, in two ways for the preservation of the
several species of ants; by allowing females to quit the place of their
birth to form in all places numerous establishments; and permitting
the labourers, in these communities, to retain some females, to be
assured of the continuance of each society. The communities of wasps
and humble-bees, on the contrary, are dissolved every year, and
reproduced every spring. It is thus she has created annual plants,
whose species is only preserved by seeds, whilst others subsist entire
ages, producing seed every year, which multiplies in its turn. May we
not extend this comparison to the republic of bees, whose colonies
are renewed by swarming? We know, by these great facts, that the same
hand has created both the vegetable and the insect; but it would be
wandering from our present subject to follow up these considerations,
to which we are led even by the most trifling detail.
CHAP. IV.
OF THE RELATION BETWEEN ANTS.
Of those insects that live solitary, their generation, their private
habits, the metamorphoses they undergo, and their mode of living under
each variety of change, their artifices in attacking their enemies, and
the art with which they construct their habitations, forms their whole
history. But the history of insects, living in extensive societies, is
not limited to any remarkable proceedings, or to the display of any
particular talent; it offers us a series of links depending upon common
utility, equality or superiority of rank, and the part each individual
is called upon to perform in the society of which it is a member. These
several links denote a bond of union between the different members,
that could not be preserved without the intervention of language.
Under this term I include, whatever means they possess of expressing
their desires, their wants, and even their ideas, if we may be allowed
to give this term to the impulse of instinct. It would be difficult
to explain in any other manner, that centering of all wills to one
purpose, or that species of harmony which so universally reigns in
their institutions.
We have already made known several facts, proving the sociability of
ants, whilst speaking of the education they give to the little ones of
another mother; of their conduct towards the males and females; and
of the labours they undertake in common in the construction of their
abode. But these are only to be regarded as isolated facts, which do
not show in what the true secret of this harmony consists; and it
is, doubtless, only by examining their conduct under this point of
view, and with much greater attention, that we can hope to acquire
any knowledge of the manner in which these diminutive republics are
constituted. For this end, we shall first study, daily, the relations
of ants one with the other; relations under which we have not yet
considered them, and which will merit a few moments’ consideration. Let
us take, for this purpose, the most simple and ordinary traits in the
life of these insects. The guard or sentry of the ant-hill will furnish
us with the first proof of their social relations.
We could, without doubt, irritate ants on the surface of the nest,
without alarming those in the interior, if they acted isolately, and
had no means of communicating their mutual impressions. Those who are
occupied at the bottom of their nest, removed from the scene of danger,
ignorant of what menaces their companions, could not arrive to their
assistance; but it appears, that they are quickly and well informed
of what is passing on the exterior. When we attack those without,
the most part engage in their defence with a considerable degree of
courage: there are always some, who immediately steal off and produce
alarm throughout their city; the news is communicated from quarter to
quarter, and the labourers come forward in a crowd, with every mark of
uneasiness and anger. What, however, is highly worthy our remark is,
that the ants, to whose charge the young are confided, and who inhabit
the upper stories, where the temperature is highest, warned also of the
impending danger, always governed by that extreme solicitude for their
charge, which we have so often admired, hasten to convey them to the
deepest part of their habitation, and thus deposit them in a place of
safety.
To study in detail the manner in which this alarm spreads over the
ant-hill, we must extend our observation to the individuals of the
largest species: the Herculean Ants, who inhabit hollow trees and who
quit them only in the spring, to accompany the males and females, have
very much assisted me in this object.
The labourers are from five to six lines in length; the winged
individuals are also proportionably large: they may be frequently seen
running about the trunk of an oak, at the entrance of their labyrinths.
When I disturbed those ants that were at the greatest distance from
their companions, by either observing them too closely, or blowing upon
them lightly, I saw them run towards the other ants, give them gentle
blows with their heads against the corslet, communicating to them, in
this way, their fear or anger, passing rapidly from one to the other
in a semicircular direction, and striking several times successively
against those who did not put themselves in instant motion. These,
warned of the common danger, set off immediately, describing in
their turn different curves, and stopping to strike with their heads
all those they met on their passage. In one moment the signal was
general, all the labourers ran over the surface of the tree with great
agitation, those within receiving notice of the danger, and probably
by the same means, came out in a crowd and joined this tumult. The
same signal which produced upon the workers this effect, caused a
different impression upon the males and females; as soon as one of the
labourers had informed them of their danger, they sought an asylum, and
re-entered precipitately the trunk of the tree;--not one thought of
quitting its temporary shelter, until a worker approached and gave them
the signal for flight. The solicitude of the labourers in their favour,
is manifested in the activity they display, in giving them advice
or intimating to them the order for their departure; they redouble
then the above signals, as if conscious of their understanding their
intent less readily than the companions of their labours: the latter
understand them, if I may use the expression, at half a word; however,
there are cases, where there is a necessity for their repetition, as
the following example will prove. Its detail may appear minute, but as
it is demonstrative of the ants possessing some kind of language, I
hope to ground my excuse on the importance of the subject.
The feet of the artificial ant-hill, or _ruche_, were plunged in
vessels constantly filled with water; this expedient, originally
adopted to arrest the passage of the ants, proved to them a fruitful
source of delight, for they there slaked their thirst (like
butterflies, bees, and other insects), during the great heat of summer.
One day, whilst they were assembled at the foot of the _ruche_,
occupied in licking up the little drops which filtered between the
fibres of the wood, (which they preferred to the taking it from the
bason itself,) I amused myself in disturbing them. This trifling
experiment gave rise to a scene which appeared conclusive. The greater
part of the ants immediately ascended the leg of the _ruche_; a few,
however, remained, whom my presence had not alarmed, and who continued
carousing. But one of those who had regained the _ruche_, came back
and approached one of its companions, who appeared fully absorbed in
the pleasure of drinking; it pushed it with its mandibles several
times successively, raising and lowering its head alternately, and at
length succeeded in driving it off. The officious ant then reached
another, who was engaged in the same office, and endeavoured to drive
it off also, by striking the abdomen behind; but seeing that it did
not appear to, or would not, understand its meaning, it approached the
corslet, and gave it two or three blows with the end of its mandibles.
The ant, being at length apprised of the necessity of withdrawing,
passed precipitately to the bell-glass; a third, warned in the same
manner, and by the same ant, quickly regained its habitation; but
a fourth, who remained alone at the water’s edge, would not retire,
notwithstanding numerous proofs of the solicitude of which it was the
object:--it appeared to pay no attention to the reiterated blows of
its friendly monitor, who at length seized it by one of its legs, and
dragged it away rather roughly. The toper, however, returned, keeping
his large pincers extended with all the appearance of rage, and again
stationed himself to quaff the delightful beverage; but its companion
would give it no quarter; coming in front, it seized it by its
mandibles, and dragged it very rapidly into the ant-hill.
These observations show us in what manner the ants are understood, when
they wish to give friendly notice of the danger with which they believe
themselves threatened. Let us now pass on to the means they employ for
directing their course in their journeys and emigrations.
2. _Of the Manner in which Ants are guided in their several Excursions._
An ingenious idea, offered by a man of celebrity, is sometimes
sufficient to fix the opinion of naturalists, who would rather adopt
his idea than take the trouble of examining for themselves. It is thus,
that M. Bonnet, in comparing the odour from ants to those threads which
caterpillars, living in a republic, leave after them, has concluded,
that these insects are guided only by smell. He remarked, that he could
arrest the passage of ants, by passing his finger occasionally across
their path; but he had not perhaps reflected, that the odour from his
hand was a sufficient barrier to their progress: this experiment,
however, is not always attended with the same success. Some ants are
stopped at the moment, by the new sensation they experience, but the
greater part pass boldly the space, where we should have imagined the
invisible traces of their passage interrupted. I put them to a more
difficult trial, by digging around their nest a ditch several inches
in depth. They appeared at first to hesitate as to their movement,
but they did not forget the direction of their ant-hill, knowing the
way of returning to it, although the road in this part was completely
destroyed. When they had traversed this furrow, they often returned
behind, exploring the ground, as if to observe their route for the
purpose of again remembering it.
Why exclude sight, touch, and memory, from the part they take in
regulating the conduct of ants? Objects, which by us would be passed
unnoticed on account of their diminutiveness, may be very remarkable
with respect to them. We may be convinced by what follows, of the
fidelity of their memory, and of the subtilty of their senses.
If ants had nothing to direct them in their journeys but the odour
they leave after them, how could they possibly ascertain their route
when continued rains have soaked the ground they are to run over,
and effaced the traces of their steps, or when violent winds have
dispersed their emanations. One would think they would be thrown in
disorder; this however is not the case: they find again the places
they before frequented, go considerable distances to seek provisions;
and know every route which leads to the ant-hill.--I do not deny that
the sense of smelling may be one of the means they possess in tracing
their route, but there are circumstances in which sensations in that
way would throw them into the greatest perplexity. We well know that
several wild deer will deceive the best dogs of chace, by retracting
their steps in their several turnings and windings;--the ants would be
deceived in like manner by the emanation from their companions, if they
possessed not the knowledge of places, from the inspection of objects,
the memory of localities, or from other resources, to us unknown.
I have often amused myself by dispersing in my chamber the fragments
of one of their nests. I expected to see the ants follow each others’
track, and move in one unbroken chain (as we find to be the case with
caterpillars) to seek a place of shelter; but this was not the plan
they followed; they diverged on all sides and took a thousand different
routes: each pursued his own way. They encountered each other at
different points without appearing to have the slightest idea of any
clue that might direct them. I saw them for a long time wandering about
at random before they found a place where they could all assemble. One
of them having discovered in the flooring a little chink through which
it could glide into a darkened cavity, returned to its companions, and,
by means of certain movements with its antennæ, imparted to them the
joyful intelligence. It even directed some by accompanying them to the
entrance of this aperture, and these, in their turn, served as guides
to the rest. Every time they met, they stopped and struck each other
with their antennæ in a very remarkable manner, and appeared fully
instructed of the route they should take. In this way, the whole of
this busy group were securely lodged in the same place.
If we could remove an ant at the moment of her discovering a repository
of confectionary, &c. none of her companions would be able to arrive
there; since it is not her traces that conduct them to the spot, she
is under the necessity of returning to the ant-hill and bringing off
her companions.[1] What difficulty has she not in finding her route?
how many times does she not stop in going to, or returning from this
land of promise? She endeavours to discover the places that lay in
her former route; she is seen to halt almost every instant, until she
happens to meet with some visible or palpable clue, as the extremity
of a road, or the base of a wall, which she can follow without
hesitation. Should she fall in with any of her associates from the nest
they put her in the right way by the contact of their antennæ.--This
method of guiding their companions is not practised by every species
of ants; for some employ, under certain circumstances, a process more
mechanical and less rapid than the fugitive signs of which the antennæ
are the organs. This is the subject upon which we shall now touch in
speaking of their migrations.
[1] Dr. Franklin, upon discovering a number of ants regaling themselves
with some treacle in one of his cupboards, put them to the rout, and
then suspended the pot of treacle, by a string, from the ceiling. He
imagined he had put the whole army to flight, but was surprised to see
a single ant quit the pot, climb up the string, cross the ceiling, and
regain its nest. In less than half an hour several of its companions
sallied forth, traversed the ceiling, and reached the depository, which
they constantly revisited until the treacle was consumed. The Doctor
was therefore of opinion, that ants were enabled to communicate their
ideas to each other.--In a memoir, published in the Transactions of the
French Academy, an account is given of a solitary ant that was taken
from its nest, and thrown on a heap of corn: it was observed, after
surveying this treasure, to hasten immediately back to its residence,
where it doubtless communicated to its associates this intelligence;
for the granary was very soon filled with visitors, and the corn taken
away. The fallacy of the statement respecting ants laying up a store
of provision for their winter consumption, particularly corn, is now
very generally admitted; it has been ascertained that ants, (at least
those of this country,) during that season, lie in a state of torpor,
and therefore require no food. Gould, who published a memoir on these
insects in 1747, pointed out this error; and since his time, it has
been fully confirmed by the most experienced entomologists.--T.
3. _The Migrations of the Fallow Ants._
Ants are now and then induced to change their residence. Should it
be too much in the shade, too humid, too exposed to the attacks of
passengers, or too contiguous to an enemy’s quarters, thus rendering
it unsafe as well as unpleasant, they leave it to lay the foundation
of another in some other place. This I have denominated migration,
the term colony offering no sufficiently just idea, since we do not
speak, in this instance, of a portion of the metropolis, but of a whole
nation removing to a new city. However, I shall occasionally employ
it under the same acceptation. Do ants determine upon the propriety
of removing to another abode after general deliberation? How do they
appoint the place of rendezvous, and the day of departure? These
questions, and the facts connected with them, have hitherto escaped the
attention of naturalists; although several (Bonnet, Latreille, Bomare)
have sufficiently spoken of a practice common enough among ants,--that
of their carrying each other; yet they were ignorant if they should
attribute this conduct to the sickness, infancy, or old age of those
ants that were borne by their companions.
I was equally ignorant of their intention in this respect; but having
one day deranged the habitation of a colony of Fallow Ants, I
perceived they had changed their domicile. I saw, at the distance of
ten paces from their nest, a fresh ant-hill, which communicated with
the old by a path struck out in the grass, along which the ants were
passing and re-passing in great number. I remarked that all those
going towards the new establishment were loaded with their companions,
whilst those moving in a contrary direction were running one after
the other[2]: these were no doubt returning to the old nest, to seek
inhabitants for the new. This proved an additional source of knowledge.
[2] Having kept a considerable time in captivity a colony of Red Ants,
I was anxious to observe their proceeding on being placed at liberty.
I therefore dug a hole in the garden, in which I deposited their nest.
The first day but very few quitted it, as they had been liberally
supplied with provision; the second day, they left the nest in great
numbers to visit the environs; the third day they remained within,
being detained by the rain; the fourth day, they visited as before the
neighbourhood, but towards the evening, I was greatly surprised to see
all those quitting the nest carrying their companions, whilst those
returning to the nest, came unattended; the latter, however, lost no
time in bearing away in their pincers their associates. This scene
was continued without interruption, on the following day, when the
emigration was complete, and a new establishment formed.--T.
From that period, I put several of these republics to the same proof.
I destroyed so often the roof of their underground city, that I
completely succeeded in driving them from their residence. The first
and second time they repaired the breaches I had made; at the third
they began seeking an asylum less exposed to such accidents. I then
observed one of the labourers leave the nest, carrying one of its
companions suspended by its mandibles: I followed it until it reached
the border of a subterranean cavity, in which it deposited its burden.
The number of these carriers or porters, at first but trifling,
increased each moment. I only noticed, at the commencement, two or
three in the path; but, after they had carried off several others to
begin their operations at the new ant-hill, one part of the colony
went, in their turn, to the ancient nest, and thence drew, as from a
nursery, subjects for the new city. To judge with what ardour they
were occupied with their colony, it was only necessary to watch the
arrival of new recruits to the natal ant-hill. They approached in haste
several ants, caressed them individually with their antennæ, drew them
forth by their pincers, and actually appeared to propose to them the
journey. When they saw they were disposed to set off, I observed them
seize them by their mandibles, and whilst the one destined to be the
porter or carrier turned about to take up the other it had brought over
to its views, the latter rolled itself up, suspended from the neck of
the former. All this took place in the most amicable manner, passing
and repassing the antennæ over the head of each other, with movements
little varying from those when they are about to take their food. It
sometimes, however, happened, that those who were desirous of the
change seized the other ants by surprise, and dragged them out of the
ant-hill, allowing them no time to offer resistance; they bore them
off with great rapidity, and when they had nearly arrived to their new
habitation, the ants suspended by their mandibles unrolled themselves,
and quitted their conductors.
The number of recruits increases always in rapid progression; the path
communicating with the two cities is filled; the natal ant-hill is
covered, and its surface is the theatre of their excursions and their
_enlevemens_: they never return to the new colony, without bringing
back some pledge of their dispatch or address.
My glass frames often permitted me to see what occurred in the interior
of ant-hills during the emigration, for when the labourers espied
any issue that had escaped my vigilance, they profited by it to seek
another asylum. They spread themselves at first separately over the
floor, and observed all the corners of my study, hoping to discover an
asylum in which they might be sheltered: this obtained, they began to
recruit. That ant which had found a place of safety, went immediately
to seek its companions, one after the other, on the floor, then in the
ant-hill: but it was sufficient, by simply taking away at the time the
first recruit, to stop the emigration, at least until some other ant
had discovered an equally convenient retreat.
The recruiting continued several days; but when the whole of the
labourers knew the route to their new habitation, they ceased to carry
each other. They had by this time constructed large vaulted chambers,
avenues, and lodges; they first brought off their pupæ and larvæ, then
the males and females. When the removal was complete, they for ever
abandoned the artificial ant-hill, and the road which led to it.
But upon opening the shutter of my _ruche_ whilst the emigration on
the exterior was in full activity, all appeared tranquil within; those
recruiting, arrived at the very gate of the ant-hill, but the ants,
who were not immediately the object of their search, paid no attention
to their proceedings; they continued, as usual, their ordinary
avocations, and did not appear to suspect what was going forward so
near them. Thus, these _enlevemens_ produce no sensation but in the
very spot where they take place, which proves, that the ants do not
take counsel of the whole republic when they feel inclined to change
their abode. That ant which discovers a situation favourable to the
establishment of an ant-hill, conducts its companions to it, and these,
in their turn, go and seek new inhabitants. It now and then happens
that several workers undertake at the same time to found a new city,
and conduct there the whole colony, which gives place to a temporary
existence of several ant-hills; but these insects are soon aware of
this division, and do not delay, in the last recruiting, bringing the
whole colony into one nest.
When the ants are displeased with the city they have chosen, they
quit it for a third, and pass sometimes even to a fourth, where they
definitively fix. We even see them very frequently return to the
ancient nest before being fully established in the new. The recruiting
then takes place in a contrary direction, and the couples meet each
other in the same road, but the last has always the advantage over the
preceding emigrations.
When the new ant-hill is at a considerable distance from the old, the
ants commonly establish some intermediate residence, in which they
deposit the recruits, the larvæ, the males, and the females, which they
are unable to carry in one journey to their proper destination. I have
seen several of these relays established upon the same route; they
consisted of cavities pierced in the earth, containing sufficiently
spacious apartments, generally covered with fragments of straw, and
resembling small ant-hills. We might there observe some sentinels
doing daily duty, that is to say, opening and closing the gates of
the ant-hill morning and evening; sometimes these asylums become
little colonies, which maintain a close connection with the principal
ant-hill; they are different habitations, common to the same ants,
serving them for places of refuge on any derangement of what we might
term their capital.[3]
[3] Mr. Kirby mentions a similar circumstance. In speaking of a
colony of that species, termed the Hill Ant (_F. rufa_): he informs
us, that their nest was one of considerable magnitude, and that at
certain distances from it, they had established six or seven smaller
settlements.--T.
I have often seen in fir-forests, very large ant-hills contiguous to
each other, communicating together, like cities of the same empire, by
regular tracks:--these tracks are sometimes as much as a hundred feet
in length, and several inches in breadth; they are not produced by
the passing and repassing of the ants, several thousands of whom are
in motion each day from one ant-hill to the other, but are excavated
by the ants themselves. I have often seen these insects occupied
in establishing them, or in giving them greater breadth. This art
belongs exclusively to the Fallow Ants; but the recruiting is common
to them, with the Herculean, Ethiopian, Ash-coloured, the Sanguine,
and the Mining Ant. That very valuable gift of being directed in their
movements by means of the antennæ, of which we have before spoken, is
in use among the Brown, the Yellow, the Fuliginous, and several other
ants.
We have one word to say respecting Field Ants, which take a middle
place between the two genera we have described, inasmuch as they
sometimes conduct themselves peaceably towards each other, and regulate
their movements by signs; but what is very remarkable is, the manner in
which they take off their recruits; in place of carrying them rolled up
and suspended under their neck, they hold them in a contrary direction;
they also take them up by their mandibles, but with their head below,
and their body raised in the air.[4] It never happens, as had been
supposed, that the labourer who wishes to be carried fastens himself by
force upon one of its companions. The Brown and Fuliginous Ants, who
are not in the habit of carrying each other in their migrations, have
recourse, notwithstanding, to this expedient with regard to the males,
females, and labourers, lately transformed; which amounts to the proof,
that these do not well understand their language, and could not be
their own directors.
[4] M. Bonnet was inclined to believe, that they are treated in this
way only, when their companions are irritated or out of temper; that
they then dart upon each other, and when one of the champions has
seized its adversary on the upper part of the neck, it maintains an
obstinate hold.--A.
4. _Of the Affection of Ants for their Companions._
The affection between members constituting one and the same family
is, without doubt, the just basis for harmony and public good. Even
were we not accustomed to regard the actions of insects as mechanical,
we could not possibly explain the order so conspicuous among bees
and ants, without supposing them endowed with an attachment to their
fraternity, which inspires them with that great zeal for the well-being
of the colony, with that attention and that devotedness, of which they
offer striking examples every instant of their life. With us, intimacy
results from some decided preference; with them, this affection has
nothing exclusive, offering rather an idea of the patriotism which
accords with republican states. Their friendship is never destroyed
by the shock of contending passions; there is not to be found amongst
them either hatred, rivalry, or dissension. What individual is not
acquainted with the devotedness of bees for their republic! The
females, even of the larger animals, do not defend their little ones
with more spirit and obstinacy. Ants yield in no respect to bees: it
is well known, that we may divide ants in the middle of their body,
without taking from them the desire of defending their domicile, that
the head and corslet, although separated from the abdomen, still
continue in motion, and that, in this state, the ant will convey the
pupæ to their asylum.[5] Thus the great secret of the harmony we
admire in these republics rests in their reciprocal affection. It will
be enough to bring to remembrance what M. Latreille has mentioned,
respecting some ants, who, upon witnessing the suffering of their
companions, whose antennæ he had cut off, dropped from their mouth,
upon the wounded part, a little transparent liquor, of which they
knew, perhaps, the full virtue. I have no equally affecting instances
to relate. I shall, however, mention two, which prove the lasting
attachment of members of the same republic, and the desire that their
associates might also participate in their pleasures.
[5] This can scarcely be adduced as an instance of the affection
of this insect for the young confided to its care; for had it been
engaged in any other operation, it is most likely it would have
continued it until its strength totally failed. It is well known
that many insects, after the loss of their principal members, still
continue their customary avocations. I have myself seen a wasp walking
(seemingly unconcerned), about a sugar-hogshead, three hours after
its abdomen had been removed. Fothergill, if I mistake not, threw
his hat at a dragon-fly (_Libellula_), and by accident separated its
body. It made several efforts, but ineffectually, from want of its
proper counterpoise, to take flight. Whilst it was in this state a
fly was presented to it, which it devoured very greedily. The common
caterpillar (_Melolontha vulgaris_) will continue to walk about even
when deprived of half its entrails. Dr. Arnold, after transfixing an
insect (_Scolia quadrimaculata_) with a pin, placed it in a box with
other insects, where it afterwards got loose, and notwithstanding
its previous impalement, actually destroyed another insect (_Sphinx
stellarum_) in the same box, which usually constituted its food.--T.
I took, in the month of April, an ant-hill from the woods, for the
purpose of populating my large glazed apparatus; but, having more ants
than I had occasion for, I gave liberty to a considerable number in
the garden of the house where I lived. The latter fixed their abode
at the foot of a chesnut tree. The former became the subject of some
private observations. I noticed them four months, without allowing
them to quit my study; at this time, wishing to bring them nearer to
a state of nature, I carried the _ruche_ into the garden, and placed
it at ten or fifteen paces from the natural ant-hill. The prisoners,
profiting by my negligence of not renewing the water which blockaded
their passage, escaped, and ran about the environs of their abode.
The ants, established near the chesnut tree, met, and _recognised_
their former companions; fell to mutual caresses with their antennæ,
took them up by their mandibles, and led them to their own nests: they
came presently in a crowd to seek the fugitives, under and about the
artificial ant-hill, and even ventured to reach the bell-glass, where
they effected a complete desertion, by carrying away successively all
the ants they found there. In a few days the _ruche_ was depopulated.
These ants _had remained four months without any communication_. I
placed some Fallow Ants in another artificial ant-hill, the frame of
which, in place of lying perpendicular with the table, as in figure 1.
was inclined some degrees. This disposition displeased the ants (I know
not why), and they established themselves underneath the bell-glass
in the materials of their nest, which had been brought with them.
It was, however, necessary, to allow of my making any observations,
they should remain in the frame, and I hoped to retain them there,
by the attraction of heat. For this purpose I brought a flambeau
close to the frame, and kept it in the same position, until the glass
had acquired a sufficiently high temperature. There were some ants
in this place; as soon as they perceived the heat, they began to be
animated, manifested their comfort by brushing their head and antennæ
with their feet, and ran over, with rapidity, the warm space. When
they saw other ants, they approached them, moved about their antennæ
with singular quickness, and then immediately left them. They appeared
desirous to remount under the bell-glass; they went even to the border
of the table, but retained, without doubt, by the mild temperature
they experienced in the frame, they often returned to it; they took,
at length the measure of mounting into the upper story. I knew enough
of the habits of ants to be well aware they were only gone to intimate
to their companions this heat, to which they attached such value. In
short, I presently saw two descend into the frame, carrying in their
mouths two labourers, whom they deposited in the warmest place; they
then returned immediately into the upper part of the _ruche_. The
new arrivals, after having warmed themselves, mounted also under the
glass, when, in a few minutes after, I saw the whole four re-descend,
each bearing another ant suspended by its mandibles. This transport
continued in rapid progression, until there arrived, by hundreds, the
recruits, with their living burthens, and there remained no longer any
ants in the superior part of the _ruche_. When I ceased warming the
frame, the ants regained the glass, but as often as I approached the
flambeau, this social proceeding again took place.[6]
[6] That ants will occasionally avail themselves of the heat supplied
by other sources besides the sun, is sufficiently evident from what
follows: “M. Reaumur, in refuting the common notion of ants being
injurious to bees, tells us, that societies of the former often saved
themselves the trouble of removing the larvæ, &c. from place to place,
by establishing their colonies between the exterior wooden shutters
and panes of his glass hives, where, owing to the latter substance
being a tolerably good conductor for heat, their progeny was, _at all
times_, and without any necessity of changing their situation, in a
constant, equable, and sufficient temperature. Bonnet observed the same
fact. He found that a society of ants had piled up their young to the
height of several inches, between the flannel-lined case of his glass
hives and the glass. When disturbed they ran away with them, but always
replaced them. I am persuaded that, after duly considering these facts,
you will agree with me that it is impossible consistently to refer
them to instinct, or to account for them without supposing some stray
ant, that had insinuated herself into this tropical crevice, first
to have been struck with the _thought_ of what a prodigious saving
of labour and anxiety would occur to her compatriots by establishing
their society here; that she had communicated her _ideas_ to them; and
that they had resolved upon an emigration to this newly discovered
country--this Madeira of ants, whose genial clime presented advantages
which no other situation could offer. Neither instinct, nor any
conceivable modification of instinct, could have taught the ants to
avail themselves of a good fortune, which, but for the invention of
glass hives, would never have offered itself to a generation of these
insects since the creation; for there is nothing analagous in nature
to the constant and equable warmth of such a situation, the heat of
any accidental mass of fermenting materials soon ceasing, and no heat
being given out from a society of bees when lodged in a hollow tree,
their natural residence. The conclusion, then, seems irresistible,
that reason must have been their guide, inducing a departure from
their natural instinct; as extraordinary as would be that of a
hen which should lay her eggs in a hot-bed, and cease to sit upon
them.”--_Introduction to Entomology, by Kirby and Spence_, Vol. II. p.
518.--T.
These observations, and many others, which I shall not now mention,
by showing what interest the ants take in the welfare of their
companions, bring to mind those ideal republics in which all wealth
should be general, public interest serving as a rule of conduct for the
citizens. It belonged only to nature to realize this chimera, and it
is only among insects, exempt from our passions, that she thought she
could establish this order of things. She has given to ants a language
of communication by the contact of their antennæ; with these organs
they are enabled to render mutual assistance in their labours, and
in their dangers; discover again their route when they have lost it,
and make each other acquainted with their necessities. We see, then,
that insects which live in society are in possession of a language. In
consequence of enjoying a language, in common with us, although in an
inferior degree, have they not greater importance in our eyes, and do
they not embellish the very spectacle of the universe?
CHAP. V.
OF THE WARS OF ANTS, AND SOME OTHER PARTICULARS.
The scourge of war, is it inseparable from the state of society? Ants,
whose civilization appears more developed than we had reason to expect,
whose manners announce harmony, reciprocal attention, regard for
their females, union and perfect equality between the several members
of their republic, do they present us an example of that law, which
ordains, that species too abundant should be their own destroyers?
Nature has so willed it! It was necessary that ants should still have
with us this relation, the necessity for which rests upon plans too
elevated for our feeble conception.
That kind of aggression which is practised by considerable armies, and
is manifested in frequent combats, widely differs from the artifices of
those insects that take their prey by surprise;--some by means of nets
which they spread, others by the aid of those ingenious snares into
which ants themselves unconsciously fall.[1] It is only to the wars in
which we engage that we can compare those of ants; we may, therefore,
tolerate, in favour of this resemblance, expressions a little too
pompous for the heroines whose history I am writing: we cannot invent
a particular language for these insects, we must therefore make use of
the terms employed when speaking of war.
[1] There are some animals, that from living almost entirely on ants,
have obtained the name of ant-eaters, (_Myrmecophaga_). On paying its
accustomed visit to the ant-hill, this animal makes a considerable
disturbance, and then extends its long and tapering tongue on the
ground. The ants, coming out to see what is the matter, unaware of
the nature of the trap laid for them, pass on the tongue in great
numbers, where they are retained by a thick viscous fluid. The
Woodpecker occasionally adopts a similar plan, and thus procures an
abundant repast; but the most ingenious contrivance to entrap ants,
is that practised by a little insect termed the Ant-Lion, (_Myrmeleon
Formicarius_). This insect in its larva state, can walk no other
way than backward; it is therefore evident, that its prey must come
immediately within its reach, since it is unprovided with the means of
advancing to secure it. To effect this, it forms a conical cavity of
about two inches in depth in a loose, dry, sandy soil. It commences
its operations by describing a circle in the sand, it then takes its
station within, and moving in a retrograde direction, shovels up the
sand with its fore-feet on the back part of its head, which is flat and
square, from which, by a sudden jerk, it is projected to the distance
of several inches. As its work proceeds it describes smaller circles
within the first, until they are reduced to almost a mere point. On
its meeting any impediment to its labours, such as small stones, &c.
it places them one by one on its head, and, if possible, jerks them
beyond the mouth of the pit; failing of this, it endeavours to deposit
its load at the entrance of the cavern, by mounting backward with
cautious steps. Its efforts are often unsuccessful, for the instability
of the ground over which it is obliged to pass renders this a task
of extreme difficulty. It does not, however, forego its object, nor
is it at all discouraged by two or three failures, but when every
probability of success is withdrawn, it abandons its employment, and
seeks another situation, where it, with wonderful patience, enters upon
another excavation. Its residence finished, it occupies the lower part,
concealing its body by a coating of sand. Here it quietly remains until
some stray ant, passing this way, and venturing to cross the sides
of the pit, is carried by the sliding sand within the grasp of its
oppressor. It may be that the ant, on perceiving its danger, endeavours
to scramble up the embankment; but our wary friend, unwilling to be
deprived of his long-expected meal, shakes off his usual inactivity,
and by a timely shower of sand, seldom fails of bringing down its
victim. Like most insects that lie in wait for prey, the Ant-Lion is
capable of enduring very long abstinence.--T.
I shall not now describe the kind of chase which ants give to those
insects they find in their journies; the whole of their art being then
limited to their assembling together for the purpose of assailing and
dragging them to the ant-hill. The ants of southern countries, more
warlike than ours, attack little quadrupeds and destroy rats and other
noxious animals, while the beetle and caterpillar are the largest
insects upon which the ants of Europe make war: they will, however,
dissect very neatly lizards, and other dead animals. Ants make their
attack openly; cunning is not in the number of their arms; those of
which they make use, are the same pincers they employ for carrying the
materials of their nests, a sting resembling that of bees, and the
venom which accompanies it, an acid liquor contained in their abdomen,
which produces a slight irritation on the skin. These arms, as before
stated, are only possessed by the females and workers, to whom nature
has confided the several interests of the colony. The males take no
part in its preservation, except in the reproduction of the species.
The females, doubtless too valuable to allow of their exposing their
lives, always make their escape on the slightest danger. The workers
are those only destined to defend their habitation.
Several species are unprovided with a sting, but they supply its place
by biting their enemy and pouring into the wound they inflict with
their teeth, a drop of venom, which renders it exceedingly painful.
They bend, for that purpose, their abdomen, which contains the venomous
liquor, and approach it to the wounded part, at the very same moment
they tear it with their pincers. When their adversaries keep only at a
distance, and they are unable to reach them, they all raise themselves
on their hind feet, and, bringing their abdomen between their legs,
spurt their venom with some degree of force. We see ascend, from the
whole surface of the nest, a thick cloud of formic acid, which exhales
an almost sulphureous odour.
Of all the enemies of the ant, those most dreaded are the ants
themselves; the smallest not the least, since several fasten at once
upon the feet of the largest, drag them on the ground, embarrass their
movements, and thus prevent their escape. One would be astonished at
the fury of these insects in their combats; it would be more easy to
tear away their limbs and cut them in pieces, than compel them to quit
their hold. It is nothing uncommon to see the head of an ant suspended
to the legs or antennæ of some worker, who bears about, in every place,
this pledge of his victory. We also observe, not unfrequently, the ants
dragging after them the entire body of some enemy they had killed some
time before, fastened to their feet in such a way as not to allow of
their disengaging themselves.
Supposing the ants to be of equal size, those furnished with a sting
have an advantage over those who employ only for their defence their
venom and their teeth. The whole of those ants whose peduncle has no
scale, but one or two knots, are provided with a sting; the Red Ants,
which are said to sting more sharply than the rest, possess both these
sorts of arms. In general the ants furnished with a sting are, in our
country, some of the smallest. I know but one species of middle size;
but it is very rare and only inhabits the Alps.
The wars entered into by ants of different size bear no resemblance
to those in which ants engage who come to combat with an equal force.
When the large attack the small, they appear to do it by surprise,
most likely to prevent the latter from fastening upon their legs; they
seize them in the upper part of the body and strangle them immediately
between their pincers. But when the small ants have time to guard
against an attack, they intimate to their companions the danger with
which they are threatened, when the latter arrive in crowds to their
assistance. I have witnessed a battle between the Herculean and the
Sanguine Ants; the Herculean Ants quitted the trunk of the tree in
which they had established their abode, and arrived to the very gates
of the dwelling of the Sanguine Ants; the latter, only half the size
of their adversaries, had the advantage in point of number; they,
however, acted on the defensive. The earth, strewed with the dead
bodies of their compatriots, bore witness they had suffered the
greatest carnage: they, therefore, took the prudent part of fixing
their habitation elsewhere, and with great activity transported to a
distance of fifty feet from the spot, their companions, and the several
objects that interested them. Small detachments of the workers were
posted at little distances from the nest, apparently placed there to
cover the march of the recruits and to preserve the city itself from
any sudden attack. They struck against each other when they met, and
had always their mandibles separated in the attitude of defiance. As
soon as the Herculean Ants approached their camp, the centinels in
front assailed them with fury; they fought at first in single combat.
The Sanguine Ant threw himself upon the Herculean Ant, fastened upon
its head, turned its abdomen against the chest of its adversary or
against the lower part of its mouth, and inundated it with venom. It
sometimes quitted its antagonist with great quickness; more frequently,
however, the Herculean Ant held between its feet its audacious enemy.
The two champions then rolled themselves in the dust and struggled
violently. The advantage was at first in favour of the largest ant;
but its adversary was soon assisted by those of its own party, who
collected around the Herculean Ant and inflicted several deep wounds
with their teeth. The Herculean Ant yielded to numbers; it either
perished the victim of its temerity, or was conducted a prisoner to the
enemy’s camp.[2]
[2] I retained in close captivity in the same box, nearly a month,
about an equal number of Red and Yellow Ants. It would seem that a
general feeling of compassion for their unfortunate imprisonment
had given birth to a suspension of hostilities, and that rankling
animosity had been exchanged for good-will and social order. During
this period I seldom witnessed any affray on the exterior of the nest,
and on breaking it up, the interior gave me no room to suppose it had
been the scene of much contention; but scarcely were they liberated,
scarcely did they feel the fresh breeze passing over them, than their
animosity rekindled, and the field of their liberty became the theatre
of sanguinary combat. For a few moments each party seemed engaged
in discovering a place of retreat, and it was only on returning to
the ruins of their original prison, to bring off the rest of their
companions, that they encountered and waged war upon each other. What
was as singular as unexpected, they fought in pairs, in no one instance
_en masse_; indeed, it only twice happened, although the ground was
strewed with combatants, that a third came to the aid of its companion,
and even then, as if conscious of the unequal contest, one immediately
retired. It was inconceivable with what desperate fury, and with
what determined obstinacy they fastened upon each other. With their
mandibles alone they often succeeded in effecting a complete separation
of the body of their antagonist, of which the ground exhibited many
proofs when I revisited it.--T.
Such are the combats between ants of different size; but if we wish
to behold regular armies, war in all its form, we must visit those
forests in which the Fallow Ants establish their dominion over every
insect in their territory. We shall there see populous and rival
cities, regular roads passing from the ant-hill as so many rays from
a centre, and frequented by an immense number of combatants, wars
between hordes of the same species, for they are naturally enemies and
jealous of the territory which borders their own capital. It is in
these forests, I have witnessed the inhabitants of two large ant-hills
engaged in spirited combat. I cannot pretend to say what occasioned
discord between these republics. They were composed of ants of the same
species, alike in their extent and population, and were situated about
a hundred paces distance from each other. Two empires could not possess
a greater number of combatants.
Let us figure to ourselves this prodigious crowd of insects covering
the ground lying between these two ant-hills, and occupying a space of
two feet in breadth. Both armies met at half-way from their respective
habitations, and there the battle commenced. Thousands of ants took
their station upon the highest ground, and fought in pairs, keeping
firm hold of their antagonists by their mandibles: a considerable
number were engaged in the attack and leading away prisoners. The
latter made several ineffectual efforts to escape, as if aware that,
upon their arrival at the camp they would experience a cruel death.
The scene of warfare occupied a space of about three feet square; a
penetrating odour exhaled from all sides; numbers of dead ants were
seen covered with venom. Those ants composing groups and chains, took
hold of each other’s legs and pincers, and dragged their antagonists
on the ground. These groups formed successively. The fight usually
commenced between two ants, who seized each other by the mandibles,
and raised themselves upon their hind-legs, to allow of their bringing
their abdomen forward, and spurting the venom upon their adversary.
They were frequently so closely wedged together that they fell upon
their sides, and fought a long time, in that situation, in the dust;
they shortly after raised themselves, when each began dragging its
adversary; but when their force was equal, the wrestlers remained
immoveable, and fixed each other to the ground, until a third came to
decide the contest. It more commonly happened that both ants received
assistance at the same time, when the whole four, keeping firm hold of
a foot or antenna, made ineffectual attempts to gain the battle. Some
ants joined the latter, and these were, in their turn, seized by new
arrivals. It was in this way they formed chains of six, eight, or ten
ants, all firmly locked together; the equilibrium was only broken when
several warriors, from the same republic advanced at the same time,
who compelled those that were enchained to let go their hold, when the
single combats again took place. On the approach of night each party
returned gradually to the city, which served it for an asylum. The
ants, which were either killed or led away in captivity, not being
replaced by others, the number of combatants diminished, until their
force was exhausted.
The ants returned to the field of battle before dawn. The groups again
formed; the carnage recommenced with greater fury than on the preceding
evening, and the scene of combat occupied a space of six feet in length
by two in breadth. Success was for a long time doubtful; about mid-day
the contending armies had removed to the distance of a dozen feet from
one of their cities, whence I conclude some ground had been gained.
The ants fought so desperately, that nothing could withdraw them from
their enterprise; they did not even perceive my presence, and although
I remained close to the army, none of them climbed upon my legs; they
seemed absorbed in one object, that of finding an enemy to contend with.
This devotion for their country, is it not astonishing in such little
insects? Can we conceive how nature, has inspired them with such
interest for the colony in which they equally labour? These wars offer
something still more surprising--_the instinct which enables each
ant to know his own party_. How and by what sign do they distinguish
their compatriots, in a contest, in which thousands of individuals
of the same colour, of the same size, of the same odour, and even of
the very same species, meet, attack, or defend themselves, inundate
their adversaries with venom, and lead away prisoners? They march with
defiance; even at the time they are approaching their companions they
keep their mandibles wide asunder. They sometimes attack those of their
own party; but on recognising them, immediately relax their hold. It
often happens that those who are the object of this temporary error
caress their compatriots with their antennæ, and readily appease their
anger. What an idea does not this give us of the bond of union between
these insects, and of the subtlety of their senses.
The common operations of the two colonies were not suspended during
this warfare: the paths, which led to a distance in the forest, were
as much thronged as in a time of peace, and all around the ant-hill
order and tranquillity prevailed, with the exception only of that
side on which the battle was raging. A crowd of these insects were
constantly seen to be setting off for the scene of combat, while others
were returning with their prisoners. This war terminated without any
disastrous results to the two republics; long continued rains shortened
its duration, and our warriors ceased to frequent the road which led to
the camp of the enemy.
I have witnessed many such combats; but I shall not now relate them,
under the fear of fatiguing my readers by too frequent repetition. I
ought, however, to give them an idea of those which take place between
the Fallow Ants and Sanguine Ants, since they differ much in character
from those I have mentioned, approaching nearer the wars in which we
ourselves engage.
The Sanguine Ants, when they are attacked by the Fallow Ants, go and
await the enemy in little troops, at some distance from the nest: they
advance in a body, without separating, and seize all those of their
enemies who venture too far from their camp. These slight skirmishes
are very amusing: the two parties place themselves in ambuscade,
and suddenly attack each other in turns; but when the Sanguine Ants
perceive that the Fallow Ants are advancing in force against them, they
inform those at the ant-hill of the need in which they stand of their
assistance. Immediately, a considerable army leaves the Sanguine city,
advances in a body, and surrounds the enemy. Nothing more, I conceive,
is wanting to prove the existence of a language between these insects.
I have witnessed instances of this kind every day for several weeks.
These combats were constantly renewed between the two ant-hills,
which lay at some distance from each other, but were situated in the
same hedge; so that the paths proceeding from each led to the adverse
territory. Is not this sufficient to excite war between the greatest
empires![3]
[3] In perusing the travels of M. Malouet, in the forests of _Guyana_,
we shall be speedily convinced that ants are not always, even to man,
contemptible enemies. We have reason to be thankful that those of our
own country are so innocent, and that nature has reduced them to such
different dimensions. “I crossed the river,” he says, “with M. de
Prefontaine, for the purpose of visiting the woods. In the midst of a
savannah, extending beyond the visible horizon, I observed a hillock,
which had the appearance of being the work of man. He told me that
it was an ant-hill. ‘What!’ said I, ‘is that immense structure the
work of an insignificant insect?’ He proposed to take me, not to the
ant-hill, where we should have been devoured, but towards the route
of the labourers. In drawing near the wood, we saw several columns of
these insects; some were going to, others returning from, the forest,
carrying pieces of leaves, different seeds, and roots. These Black
Ants were of the largest species; but I had no desire to take a close
survey of them. Their habitation, to which I approached within forty
paces, appeared to be from fifteen to twenty feet high, and from thirty
to forty broad; its form was that of a pyramid, truncated at about
one-third of its height. From M. de Prefontaine, I learned, that when
a native had the misfortune to meet one of these dreaded fortresses
in turning up the earth, he was obliged to abandon his establishment,
provided he could not lay a regular siege to it. This circumstance
occurred to him, on his first encampment at _Kouron_; he then encamped
at a little distance, but shortly perceived a hillock like that before
us. He dug a circular trench, and filled it with a large quantity of
dry wood, and when he had fired it in several places, he attacked the
ant-hill with cannon. The shaking of the earth, and the bursting forth
of the flames, left the enemy no means of escape, for they were obliged
to traverse, in their retreat, the trench filled with matter in a state
of combustion,” &c. &c.--A.
I shall now offer a few observations, to which I shall give no definite
term, since they relate to scenes that I dare not qualify with the
title _gymnastic_, although they bear a close resemblance to scenes of
that kind. It is to the Fallow Ants I am indebted for these details;
they have already furnished me with several remarkable particulars. Do
they not owe to the immense population of their nest those differences
which their industry and character present; it is at least highly
probable, but I will not positively affirm it. I visited, one day,
one of their ant-hills, exposed to the sun and sheltered from the
north; the ants were heaped one upon another in great numbers, and
appeared to enjoy the temperature on the surface of the nest. None of
them were at work. This immense multitude of insects presented the
appearance of a liquid in the state of ebullition, upon which the eye
had some difficulty in resting; but when I examined the conduct of
each ant, I saw them approach each other, moving their antennæ with
astonishing rapidity. With slight movements of their fore-feet they
patted the lateral parts of the head of the other ants. After these
first gestures, which resembled caresses, they were observed to raise
themselves upon their hind-legs by pairs, struggle together, seize
each other by a mandible, foot, or antenna, and then immediately relax
their hold to re-commence the attack. They fastened on the thorax or
abdomen, embraced and overthrew each other, then raised themselves
by turns, taking their revenge without producing any mischief. They
did not spurt forth their venom, as in their combats, nor retain
their adversary with that obstinacy which we observe in their serious
quarrels. They presently abandoned the ants they had seized, and
endeavoured to lay hold of others. I saw some who were so eager in
these exercises, that they pursued successively several workers, and
struggled with them a few moments, the combat only terminating, when
the least animated, having overthrown his antagonist, succeeded in
escaping and hiding in one of the galleries.
I frequently visited this ant-hill, which almost always presented me
the same spectacle: sometimes this disposition was general; groups of
ants were seen here and there struggling together; but I never saw any
quit the ant-hill wounded or maimed.
The inhabitants of other ant-hills but rarely engage in this amusement,
half-warlike, half-social. If the manners, however, of ants of the same
species are essentially alike, their habitudes offer very distinct
shades of difference in the several colonies. These republics, from
having no communication with each other, contract particular habits in
the different circumstances under which they may be placed: abundance
or scarcity, the proximity or distance from whence the ants draw their
materials, the labours to which they are called, the neighbourhood of
an antagonist ant-hill, or other accidental circumstances, considerably
influence their actions. The colony of which we are speaking was one of
those remarkable for its harmony; the insects of which it was composed
did not cease offering their companions nourishment, caressing them
with their antennæ, and carrying them from place to place. I am induced
to believe this friendly disposition originated from the situation
of the ant-hill, which was contiguous to the source whence they
obtained their food, inclosed between a ditch full of water and a very
thick hedge, which preserved them from the visits of strange ants and
other enemies. What contributes to strengthen me in this opinion is,
that I have observed the same exercises in my glazed ant-hill, when
the ants were abundantly supplied with nourishment, when they were
perfectly reconciled to their abode, and under the influence of a mild
temperature.
Other ant-hills presented me some particulars a little different from
the above. I often saw on the surface of the nest workers that appeared
affected with vertigo; they made several evolutions in the sun with
convulsive movements, opening their pincers and running in every
direction over the ant-hills. Shortly after, some, affected in the like
manner, began to frisk about, and then entered the first gallery they
found on their passage. These ants deranged every thing about them;
but this disposition continued only two or three minutes, and was, I
think, occasioned by the heat of the sun, never having observed it to
take place but when the sun was high in the horizon. Several of those
I noticed, after having whirled round some moments, fastened on the
other ants by a leg or antenna, then relaxed their hold to run after
others; sometimes carrying them off, but doing them no injury. In one
place two ants appeared to be gambolling about a stalk of grass; they
turned alternately to avoid or seize each other, which brought to my
recollection the sport and the feigned combats of young dogs, when they
rise on their hind-legs, attempting to bite, overthrow, and seize each
other, without once closing their teeth.
To witness these facts, it is necessary to approach the ant-hills
with much caution, that the ants should have no idea of our presence;
if they had, they would cease at the moment their plays and their
occupations, would put themselves in a posture of defence, curve their
abdomen and ejaculate their venom. So much is their attention occupied,
when making preparations for war, that they lose sight of all other
objects.
The ants then are acquainted with labours, combats, I was about to
say, pleasures[4]; they possess signs which are of use to them as
a language, give proofs of their affection for each other, and of
devotedness for their colony, and take care of the females and their
little ones. These are well-known traits of civilization; and if
ants were only of the size of beavers, we should think we could not
sufficiently admire them.
[4] They have also their diseases. I have noticed one extremely
singular. The individuals who are attacked, lose the power of advancing
in a straight line; they cannot proceed but by turning in a very
confined circle, and always in the same direction. A virgin female that
was enclosed in one of my sand boxes was suddenly seized in this way;
she described a circle of an inch in diameter, making about a thousand
turns each hour. She turned constantly during seven days, and when
I visited her in the night, I saw her engaged in the same practice.
I gave her some honey, of which I have every reason to believe she
partook. I once discovered three labourers performing these evolutions,
one of them still possessed the faculty of occasionally moving in a
straight line. I took it up and placed it on my hand; it continued its
gyrations, stopped a moment to taste some honey, and recommenced its
circular journey. The second labourer, which was of the Ash-coloured
species, had one of its antennæ cut; it however escaped, before I had
made upon it the experiments I proposed. The third labourer, belonging
to the Fallow Ants, had suffered no external injury. I am unacquainted
with the cause of this malady; the only one I have observed ants to be
affected with.--A.
CHAP. VI.
OF THE RELATION OF ANTS WITH THE PUCERONS AND GALL INSECTS.
1. _Of the Antennal Language._
Let us return to the important question, relative to the language of
ants. If they have a language, I cannot give too many proofs of it; if
I labour under an error, the following facts, in whatever manner they
may be explained, will plead my excuse.
Imagining that I have not presumed too much upon the justness of my
conclusions, I have been under the necessity of admitting, that ants
possess the means of communicating their different impressions, and
I think this faculty consists, in the striking with their head the
corslet of their companions, and in the contact of their mandibles; but
these are the common signs of which they make use. The antennæ, the
organs of touch, and, perhaps, of some other sense which is unknown to
us, are the principal instruments connected with the language of ants:
their situation in the fore-part of the head, their flexibility, their
construction, which presents a series of articulations, endowed with
extreme sensibility; their close connection with instinct, added to the
observations I made, whilst speaking of the conduct of these insects,
in reference to the females, males, and labourers, induce me to believe
that the antennæ perform the most important office among ants. We have
seen insects frequently use them on the field of battle, to intimate
approaching danger, and to ascertain their own party when mingled with
the enemy; they are also employed, in the interior of the ant-hill,
to warn their companions of the presence of the sun, so favourable
to the development of the larvæ; in their excursions and emigrating,
to indicate their route; in their recruitings, to determine the time
of departure, &c. Let us still see of what further service they are
to these insects. As ants do not possess the art of constructing
magazines, and filling them with provisions, they cannot, like bees,
draw their supply from the cells; they are, therefore, obliged to quit
their habitation: those, who remain at home, expect their food from the
labourers, who are gone abroad to procure it; the latter bring back
small insects, or the bodies of such as they have dismembered. When
they fall in with ripe fruit, or animals of tender flesh, as worms,
lizards, &c. and are not able to convey them to the ant-hill, they
feed upon their juices, and on their return to their habitation, their
stomachs being filled with the liquid provision, they disgorge it in
the mouths of their companions, which is effected in this manner:--the
ant, who experiences hunger, begins striking with both its antennæ,
with an extremely rapid movement, the antennæ of the ant from whom
it waits its supply; it then draws closer, with its mouth open, and
its tongue extended, to receive the fluid, which is observed to pass
from the mouth of one to that of the other: during this operation,
the ant who is receiving aliment, does not cease caressing its kind
friend, by continuing to move its antennæ with great quickness; it also
plays upon the lateral parts of the head of its benefactor, with its
fore-feet, which are furnished with very thick brushes, and which, from
the delicacy and rapidity of their movement, yield in no respect to
the antennæ. The ant, who returns from foraging in the fields, is well
acquainted with the mode of informing its companions of the necessity
under which it lies, of discharging a part of the fluid with which it
is provided, and by the aid of its antennæ, appears to invite them to
come and take their portion; but it does not, in this case, make use
of the fore-feet. This language is well understood by these insects;
even the larvæ, who know how to demand their nourishment, (by raising
their head, as we have before remarked,) erect themselves, and present
their mouths, as soon as they perceive the ant striking with its
antennæ the upper part of their body.
The antennal language would require, without doubt, deep study, should
we be desirous to ascertain every impression which it is susceptible of
communicating. It is, like all the other signs I have observed amongst
ants, founded not upon visible gestures, but upon the contact or
approximation of certain parts; since it was necessary it should prove
of utility in the interior of the ant-hill, where the light of day
never penetrates: hence it happens, that an ant can only be understood
by one of its companions at the same time, but the information which
it conveys, passes from one to the other with extreme rapidity. If
it so happen, that we can prove they know how to impart information
to insects, not of their own species, we must conclude they have been
singularly favoured by nature.
2. _The Intimacy of Ants with the Pucerons._
We know that a great number of vegetables furnish provision to the
_Pucerons_ or _Aphides_. These insects fix themselves upon the leaves,
or small branches, and insinuate their trunk or sucker between the
fibres of the bark, where they find the most substantial nourishment.
A portion of this aliment, shortly after being taken, is expelled,
under the form of small limpid drops, either by the natural passage,
or by two horns, that we commonly observe on the posterior part of the
body. This fluid constitutes the principal support of the ants. We have
already noticed, that they wait the moment when the pucerons eject
this precious manna[1], upon which they (the ants) immediately seize;
but this is the least of their talents, for they know how to obtain it
at any time they wish.
[1] This substance may be frequently seen on the leaves of the oak,
lime, and other trees. It has a glossy appearance, and is remarkably
sweet to the taste. The Abbé Boisier de Sauvages states, that bees will
occasionally wage war with ants, to obtain possession of this honied
secretion.--T.
I observed a branch of a thistle, covered with Brown Ants and pucerons,
and noticed that the latter regulated the time when they discharged
this secretion; but I remarked, that it very rarely passed at the
natural period, and that the pucerons, stationed at some distance from
the ants, scattered it afar off, by a movement somewhat resembling the
kicking or wincing of a horse. How happened it, then, that the ants,
wandering upon the branches, displayed bellies remarkable for their
size, and evidently filled with some kind of liquid. This is what I
learned, by watching closely a single ant, whose movements I am about
to describe. I saw it, at first, pass, without stopping, some pucerons,
which it did not however disturb. It shortly after stationed itself
near one of the smallest, and appeared to caress it, by touching the
extremity of its body, alternately with its antennæ, with an extremely
rapid movement. I saw, with much surprise, the fluid proceed from the
body of the puceron, and the ant take it in its mouth. Its antennæ were
afterwards directed to a much larger puceron than the first, which, on
being caressed after the same manner, discharged the nourishing fluid
in greater quantity, which the ant immediately swallowed: it then
passed to a third which it caressed, like the preceding, by giving it
several gentle blows, with the antennæ, on the posterior extremity
of the body; the liquid was ejected at the same moment, and the ant
lapped it up. It then proceeded to a fourth; this, probably already
exhausted, resisted its action. The ant, who in all probability knew
it had nothing to hope for by remaining there, quitted it for a fifth,
from whom it obtained its expected supply. It now returned, perfectly
contented, to its nest.[2] A small number of such repasts will satisfy
an ant. I still observed those which remained upon the thistle; they
presented me the same scene. From that period, I always found, that
the arrival of the ants, and the striking with their antennæ, preceded
the gift of this liquid, and that the attitude of the pucerons (their
head being lowered,) appeared destined to favour this object. I have a
thousand times witnessed these proceedings, which ants always employ
with success. If, however, they neglect for a long time visiting them,
they (the pucerons) deposit the honey upon the leaves, where the ants
find it on their return.
[2] The more we contemplate the works of nature, and observe the means
she employs in her ordinary operations, the more will our admiration
be excited. Who, for one moment, could suppose, that, as in the
instance before us, what is used as food by one animal, should, on
its passage through the body, become the food of another, and thus
discharge a double office! Who could suppose that excrementitious
matter, of whatever kind, _after supporting myriads of living beings_,
should, on undergoing decomposition, and being separated into its
primary elements, enter into those several combinations, that diffuse a
charming variety around us! How wise is this provision! how admirable
this contrivance! Were it otherwise, we should be perpetually breathing
an atmosphere, charged with noisome effluvia, and living in the very
charnel-house of destruction. In the hands of nature nothing is lost;
all is life and activity: even the death of one being, is but a
commencement of the existence of another. Vapours raised from the sea,
and floating in the upper regions of the air, collect into clouds;
these, on a reduction of temperature, yield their contents to the
thirsty earth: the waters, after fulfilling their appointed office,
pass from the mountains by a thousand rills, into the plains; here, by
their junction, they form rivers, which, taking a circuitous course,
empty themselves into the ocean. Thus we see nature engaged in _running
a perpetual round_, and the waters, after cooling the atmosphere and
refreshing the earth, return to that source whence they originally
sprung.--T.
When the ants come frequently to these insects, the latter appear to
accommodate themselves to their wish, by shortening the period of
their evacuations, which may be ascertained by the size of the drops
they produce; and, in that case, they never eject it to a distance. We
might even say, they are very careful in retaining it, for the purpose
of placing it within their immediate reach. It sometimes happens,
that the ants are too abundant upon the same plant, and, therefore,
exhaust the pucerons that cover it. Under this circumstance, they
vainly attempt to play with their antennæ upon the body of these
insects; they are obliged to wait until the pucerons have replenished
themselves by a further ration drawn from the branches. The pucerons
are not avaricious, and never resist the solicitation of the ants,
when in a state to satisfy them. I have often seen the same individual
grant, successively, several drops of this fluid to different ants, who
appeared extremely anxious to obtain it. The Brown Ant is not the only
ant endowed with this art, although it is certainly one of the most
skilful in procuring, in this way, its subsistence. The Fallow, the
Ash-coloured, the Red, and several other ants, possess, in different
degrees, the power of inducing these insects to deliver over to them
this secretion. The Red Ant displays a singular address in receiving
this little drop. It employs its antennæ, the extremity of which is
a little enlarged, to convey it to its mouth, as if they were real
fingers.
It does not appear that it is by importunity ants obtain from the
pucerons their nourishment. I observed some Fuliginous Ants upon the
branches of an oak, which were loaded with large black pucerons. The
latter were walking backward and forward, and appeared to live in the
best intelligence with the ants: they provided them with honey, but
did not attempt to escape, although they were much more nimble than
those of which I have already spoken. I saw one, in this assembly, that
possessed wings: its wings, which were black, ornamented with two
white rays, together with its size, made it very conspicuous amongst
its companions. I saw several ants very busy and restless around it,
because it approached the other pucerons, from whom they were about
to demand their repast. They proceeded toward it, in great haste,
gave it a few blows with their antennæ, and stationed themselves near
the former. I was, at first, of opinion, that the winged pucerons
embarrassed them; but, in a favourable moment, I observed it to be
struck or caressed by the ants, when it yielded to them the food they
solicited. I have often noticed, since that period, other winged
pucerons delivering to the ants, without restraint, this valuable
liquid; they allowed themselves to be touched by the antennæ of
those insects, remained upon the branch where their companions who
were destitute of wings were stationed, and did not appear to avoid
the ants, whose number one would suppose would inconvenience them.
This proves that the neighbourhood of the ants is agreeable to the
pucerons, since those who might easily withdraw from their visits,
prefer resting among them, bestowing upon them what is superfluous of
their nourishment.
I have noticed the same occurrence with respect to the greater part
of the ants of this country. The largest pay their visits also to the
pucerons. One would be astonished to see how they treat them, and with
what delicacy they invite them with their antennæ (which are different
from those of the Red Ants, and more slender at the extremity than
elsewhere) to deliver over the honey.[3] I am not acquainted with any
ants, to whom the art of obtaining from the pucerons their subsistence,
is unknown: we might even venture to affirm that these insects have
been created for their use.
[3] We know that these ants which have two knots on the abdominal
fillet, have their antennæ enlarged; in those of the other classes,
they are filiform and setaceous.--A.
3. _Of the Relation of Ants with the Gall Insects._
We know that the gall insects as well as the pucerons, station
themselves on the leaves and branches of trees, to suck their juices.
The mouth and the sexual parts are applied against the tree; the
orifice, destined to reject the excess of their nourishment, is placed
on the back. The ants are attracted by the gall insects as well as the
pucerons: I am not the first to have observed it. It has been long
known that the kermes, and the cochineal insects, which are generally
allied to our gall insects, are always accompanied by ants, but we
were unacquainted with the reason for this intimacy. It had never
been remarked, that the gall insects delivered over to them, like the
pucerons, a considerable portion of the fluids they extract.
M. de Reaumur himself believed, that the puncture made upon the tree
by the gall insects, continued to pour forth a fluid after they had
withdrawn their sucker, and that the ants came up immediately to lap
the juice which transuded; but this conjecture, however probable it
then appeared, has not been verified. These insects, which had for so
many years escaped our notice, were at all times known by the ants to
be beings endowed with life and sensation. I was very much astonished
when I saw, for the first time, an ant approach a gall insect, and
perform with its antennæ, on its lower extremity, the same manœuvres,
which it executed in respect to the pucerons. After having a few
moments caressed this insect, I saw proceed from its back, a large drop
of fluid, which the ant immediately lapped up. I observed the same
occurrence, with reference to other gall insects on the same tree,
during several seasons. They were stationed in great number upon an
enlarged part of the trunk. The ants came there constantly to receive
their provisions, which was fully confirmed by my observing these
insects upon an orange tree, where I saw the ants obtain from them
their food in the same manner. We can only compare the movements of
ants upon this occasion, to the play of the fingers in a shake upon the
piano-forte.
The kermes, like the pucerons, eject this fluid to a distance when the
ants are not present to receive it; this, however, but rarely happens.
The gall insects of the vine, the peach, and the mulberry-tree, never
failed presenting me with the same spectacle; which gave me some
general ideas respecting the relation which exists between the instinct
of these insects and that of ants. That the pucerons and the gall
insects experience pleasure, when caressed in this way by the ants;
that it is an advantage to them to be earlier rid of their secretions;
or that there really exists between each, some kind of language, is
still one of those questions upon which we cannot well decide: but
we shall not the less admire the manner in which ants procure their
subsistence. This fluid is to them an inexhaustible treasure. It
will be enough, to be convinced of this truth, to station one’s-self
near an oak covered with these insects, where we shall, soon after,
observe thousands of ants ascending and descending the trunk. All those
ascending have small bellies, and walk nimbly; those, on the contrary,
descending, have their abdomen swoln, transparent, full of the fluid
obtained from these insects, and do not move but with difficulty.
4. _The almost Human Industry of Ants._
There are ants that scarcely ever quit their abode; we neither observe
them moving towards trees or their fruit; they do not even go in chace
of other insects; they are, notwithstanding, extremely common in our
meadows and orchards. I allude to the Yellow Ants, called by the common
people Red Ants, and which would merit the surname of _souterraines_.
They are two lines in length, their body is of a pale yellow colour,
slightly transparent, and covered with hair.
I knew where all the other ants sought and obtained their nourishment;
but I could not ascertain what these did to exist, and what aliment
they could furnish themselves with, without quitting their habitation;
when, one day, having turned up the earth of which their nest was
composed, to discover if they had any provision, I found it to contain
the pucerons. I saw them at the roots of the grass which surrounded
the ant-hill. They were assembled in considerable numbers, and were
of different species: the most common, were of a flesh colour and of
a round form; others were white, and had the body more flattened; but
they were of the same genus. There were also some that were green
and violet coloured, others with black and green rays; the latter
stood higher upon their legs, and were much longer. Some were removed
to a great depth, attached to the deeper part of the roots; others
were wandering about in the midst of the ants, either in the upper
or under-ground chambers. The ants appeared to seize the favourable
moment for taking their food; they acted in the ordinary manner, and
always with the same success. This clearly explained, why the ants of
this species did not quit their abode, since they had, without leaving
it, all that was necessary for their support.
I was anxious to verify this discovery, by looking into several nests
of the Yellow Ants, where I always found the pucerons. They may be
readily seen after warm rains; for they at that time keep near the
surface of the ground: the plants upon which they are stationed may be
then readily plucked up by the roots, without crushing these insects,
which happens when the earth is too dry. I soon found that the Yellow
Ants were extremely jealous of these insects; they took them often in
their mouths, and carried them to the bottom of the nest; at other
times, they brought them up among them, or followed them with much
solicitude. I profited by the information I had acquired of their way
of life, so as to nourish, at my own residence, one of their colonies.
I placed the ants in a glazed box, with their pucerons, leaving in the
earth I gave them the roots of some plants, whose branches vegetated
without. I watered from time to time the ant-hill, and in this manner,
the plants, the pucerons, and the ants themselves, found in this
apparatus abundant nourishment. The ants made no attempt to escape;
they appeared to have nothing to desire; they took care of their larvæ
and females, with the same affection as in their own nest; they also
paid great attention to the pucerons, and never injured them. The
latter did not seem to labour under the slightest fear; they allowed
themselves to be carried from place to place, and rested in the spot
chosen by their guardians. When the ants wished to displace them, they
began caressing them with their antennæ, hoping thereby, to induce them
to abandon the roots, or to withdraw their trunk from the cavity in
which it was inserted; they afterwards took them up gently in their
mandibles, and carried them with the same care as the larvæ of their
own species. I witnessed the same ant remove, successively, three of
these insects, much larger than itself, and convey them to a darkened
chamber.[4] There was one which made a long resistance, probably by
not being enabled, at the moment, to withdraw its trunk, which might
have been buried deeply in the wood. I was much amused in observing
the various attempts made by this ant, to induce it to quit its hold;
it caressed and seized it alternately, until it at length yielded
to its wishes. The ants do not employ this gentle method, when they
labour under an apprehension that these insects may be taken away from
them by the ants of another species, living near their habitation, or
when we happen to tread too heavily on the grass under which they are
concealed, for they then seize upon them directly, and carry them off
to the under-ground chambers. I have seen the ants of two neighbouring
nests disputing about their pucerons; when the ants of one nest were
enabled to enter the habitation of their neighbours, they purloined
these insects, which were, after a time, often recovered by their
original possessors. The ants know full well the value of these little
animals, which, it would appear, had been created for them;--they
constitute their sole wealth, an ant-hill being more or less rich,
as it is more or less provided with pucerons; they are in fact their
cattle, their cows, their goats, &c. Who could have imagined that the
ants were a pastoral tribe! But a question here presents itself of some
interest:--Do the pucerons, which I have constantly found in nests of
this species, come of their own free will to reside there, or are they
brought thither by the ants? the latter appears to me most probable,
for the ants are in the habit of carrying them continually from place
to place, and are the individuals who receive all the advantages
attending this relation.
[4] I have often been surprised at the strength, as well as address,
occasionally displayed by ants. At the entrance of a nest of Red
Ants, I placed a large house-fly; several ants came out from time to
time, to examine it. But what was my surprise, to see a solitary ant
attempt the removal of so large a body: it caught hold of one of the
wings forcibly by its pincers, and exerted all its strength to drag
it along. This it did with apparent ease, where the ground was not
uneven; but on meeting any obstruction, and finding the _dragging
system_ useless, it quitted its post for the opposite station, and
overcame the resistance by _pushing_. In this way it removed the fly
to a considerable distance. A difficulty at length presented itself,
which I thought insuperable. The ant, however, did not relax in its
exertions: after attempting to _drag_ it for some time, it endeavoured
to _push_ it forward, going alternately to the several parts of the
body. All these efforts were useless. In this emergency it seized the
fly in its mouth, and by a sudden jerk lifted it from the ground, and
thus overcame the impediment.--“The Mahometans hold, on the relation of
Thevenot (as mentioned by Messrs. Kirby and Spence), that one of the
animals in Paradise is Solomon’s Ant, which, when all creatures, in
obedience to him, brought him presents, dragged before him a locust,
and was therefore preferred before all others, because it had brought a
creature so much bigger than itself.”--T.
I am strongly inclined to believe, that the Yellow Ants, and all those
who are endowed with the same industry, go in search of these insects
through the subterranean galleries they have formed between the roots;
that they find them scattered among the grass, and bring them to the
nest. I cannot conceive, if this be not the case, why there should be
so many of these insects in ant-hills, for they are not equally common
elsewhere. I have seldom discovered them under the grass, but they were
surrounded by Yellow Ants, who arrive at their haunts by subterranean
passages, and who, probably, convey them to their nest in the autumn.
They often seized upon them in my presence, and withdrew with them
by some obscure path, which proves that these insects are at their
complete disposal.
It is more particularly during the bad weather, that they assemble them
at the bottom of the nest. In the summer, we more frequently find them
at the foot of the plant, contiguous to the ant-hill, where the plants
suffer less from drought than when growing upon the very nest; but this
is nearly the same as if they were enclosed with the ants, since their
habitation extends more within the earth than without.
Four or five species of ants keep pucerons in their abode; but less
constantly, and in much smaller number, than the Yellow Ants, as they
obtain a portion of their subsistence from those inhabiting trees.
There are some, who reach the branches, loaded with these insects,
under a covered way of earth, leading directly from their nest. Here
the ants are as well furnished with food as if they kept the pucerons
in their own dwelling; and as often as they wish to bring these insects
to their nest, they can accomplish it without the knowledge of other
ants, and without incurring any risk. The Red, the Brown, the Turf Ant,
and another species, excessively small, are always, during Autumn,
Winter, and Spring, in the possession of pucerons. The latter, which
we might name the microscopic ant, for it is only half a line in
length, equally finds pucerons proportioned to its size: they are of
a white colour, and a little larger than the ant itself. The pucerons
then are the domestic animals of the ants: the latter collect these
insects around them, as we collect those animals which administer to
our wants, near the habitation in which we reside. The animals which
are subject to our controul, know the voice of man; the pucerons and
the gall insects understand, as it should seem, the language of ants,
and furnish them with their aliment, unconstrained. There are several
other insects which live among ants, although they do not appear to be
of any service to them; these are, woodlice, earwigs, and certain larvæ
of the scarabæi. The ants, from being accustomed to their sight, permit
their residence among them; they never do them any injury, which is
the more singular, as ants pass in general for beings of an irritable
disposition.
But what is invariable, what I have always witnessed respecting the
Yellow Ants, and what it is of some importance to know, is, that they
have pucerons in their nests, and that they never destroy them: they,
on the contrary, bring them together, to enjoy more conveniently, the
fluid which these insects furnish them.
If these ants display, in this respect, an industry worthy of man,
there are others, whose proceedings are not less remarkable, and who
appear to take possession of the pucerons, which feed on the branches
of trees, and the stalks of herbaceous plants. The ants, extremely
jealous in preserving these insects, and especially those who reside
near them, will not suffer any strangers to come and dispute with them
the nourishment they offer. They drive them off with their mandibles,
become uneasy and restless, and pass over the branch with every mark
of anger. They sometimes take these insects in their mouths, to guard
them from the attacks of other ants: more frequently, they station a
guard around them; and when they are enabled to do so, they put them
out of the reach of their rivals, by a very ingenious method, of which
I have seen many examples.
I observed one day on the stem of a thistle, a little sphere or
lodgment, which the ants had fabricated with earth; they quitted it by
an extremely narrow aperture formed in the bottom, descended along the
stalk, and passed into a neighbouring ant-hill. I destroyed one part
of this tent, constructed almost in air, to see the interior, which
consisted of a little hall, whose sides of a vaulted form, were smooth
and compact. The ants had availed themselves of the form of the plant,
to sustain this edifice; the stem passed through the centre of the
apartment, and its leaves composed the whole of the _carpentry_. This
retreat contained an extensive family of pucerons, from whom the Brown
Ants peaceably received their food, sheltered from the rain and sun,
and safe from the invasion of foreign ants; no insect could disturb
them, and the pucerons were not exposed to the attacks of their various
enemies. I admired this trait of their industry; but I soon observed it
on a more extensive scale, and with greater interest, among ants of a
different species.
Some Red Ants had constructed around the foot of a thistle a cylinder
of earth, two inches and a half in length, by one and a half in
breadth. The ant-hill lay below, and communicated directly with this
tunnel. I took the branch, with its contents, and found that portion of
the stem comprised in the tunnel, furnished with pucerons. I presently
saw go out, by the opening which I had made at its base, a few ants,
who seemed much astonished at the light appearing in that place. I
perceived they were living there with their larvæ; they transported
them in a hurry, to the upper part of the cylinder, which had not been
injured. It was here they kept at their disposal, their joint stock of
pucerons, and here they nourished their little ones.
In another spot, several stems of a thistle, loaded with pucerons,
rose from the very centre of an ant-hill, inhabited by Brown Ants,
who, availing themselves of the particular disposition of the leaves
of this plant, had constructed around the branches, several little
oblong houses, where they came to procure their food. On my destroying
one of these houses, the ants carried off immediately into their nest
the little animals they so much valued. A few days after, I saw it
repaired, and the cattle brought back to their paddock. These houses
are not always constructed close to the ground: I saw one once five
feet above the surface, which merits being described; it consisted
of a short blackish tunnel, which surrounded a small branch of a
poplar-tree, at that place where it quitted the trunk. The ants
arrived at this spot by passing through the interior of the tree, which
was hollow, and thus screened from observation, they reached their
pucerons by an opening at the beginning of the branch. The tunnel
was formed of decayed wood, and of the earth about the tree. I saw
several ants engaged in bringing pellets in their mouths, to repair
the breaches I had made. These proceedings are by no means of common
occurrence; we cannot attribute them to an habitual routine.
There are some ants who receive their nourishment from the pucerons
inhabiting the common plantain: they are generally stationed under
the flower; but when this falls to the ground, and the stem withers,
which happens about the end of August, they retire for shelter under
the radical leaves of the plant; the ants follow, and enclose them, by
_walling_ up with moist earth all the space between the ground and the
margin of the leaves; they afterwards excavate the ground, to have
more room to approach these insects, and pass from thence to their
habitation, by covered galleries.
5. _Resources of the Ants during Winter._
I am naturally led to speak in this place, of the manner in which ants
subsist in winter, since we have relinquished the opinion that they
amass wheat and other grain, and that they gnaw the corn to hinder it
from germinating. We have endeavoured to explain their preservation,
by supposing them to fall into a state of torpor at this period. They,
in fact, become torpid during the intense cold, but when the season is
not very severe, the depth of their nest guards them from the effects
of the frost: they do not become torpid, unless the temperature is
reduced to the second degree of Reaumur under the freezing point, (27°
Fahrenheit.) I have occasionally seen them walking upon the snow,
engaged in their customary avocations. In so reduced a temperature,
they would be exposed to the horrors of famine, were they not supplied
with food by the pucerons, who, by an admirable concurrence of
circumstances, which we cannot attribute to chance, become torpid at
precisely the same degree of cold as the ants, and recover from this
state also, at the same time: the ants, therefore, always find them
when they need them.
Those ants that do not possess the knowledge of the mode of assembling
these insects, are, at least, acquainted with their retreat; they
follow them to the feet of the trees, and the branches of the shrubs
they before frequented, pass at the first degree of frost along the
hedges, following the paths which conduct to these insects, and bring
back to the republic a small quantity of honey; a very little sufficing
for their support in winter.
As soon as the ants recover from their torpid state, they venture forth
to procure their food. The aliment contained in their stomach is, on
their return, equally distributed to their companions. These juices
scarcely evaporate, during this season, owing to the thickness of the
horny rings investing the body. I have known ants preserve, during a
considerable time, their internal stock of provisions, when they could
not impart it to their companions. When the cold increases in a gradual
manner, (and this is commonly what the ants experience who are screened
from it by a thick wall of earth,) they collect and lie upon each other
by thousands, and appear all hooked together. Is this done, in order to
provide themselves a little heat? I presume this to be the case, but
our thermometers are not sufficiently delicate to indicate if this be
really the fact.
6. _Of the Eggs of the Pucerons._
The pucerons, which are viviparous in the summer, are oviparous during
Autumn. This very remarkable fact is here most fully confirmed.[5] One
day, in November, anxious to know if the Yellow Ants began to bury
themselves in their subterranean chambers, I destroyed, with care,
one of their habitations, story by story. I had not advanced far in
this attempt, when I discovered an apartment containing an assemblage
of little eggs, which were for the most part of the colour of ebony.
Several ants surrounded, and appeared to take great care of them, and
endeavoured, as quickly as possible, to convey them from my sight.
I seized upon this chamber, its inhabitants, and the treasure it
contained.
[5] Although these insects are both oviparous and viviparous, yet
this is not the greatest singularity in their history, for they will
produce, as fully confirmed by Bonnet and other celebrated naturalists,
several young in succession, without intercourse with the male insect.
The common gnat, it is asserted, will produce young, and these, in
their turn, will give birth to others, down to the sixth generation,
without further intercourse with the male. Huber, the father of our
present author, so well known to us from his extensive discoveries in
natural history, thinks, that one impregnation is sufficient to render
fertile all the eggs which a queen bee may produce in the whole course
of her life, usually about two years. And Mons. Audibert has known a
female spider produce young, for several successive generations, from
one single impregnation of the male. The circumstance of the _Aphides_,
or _Pucerons_, being oviparous or viviparous, seems to depend upon the
prevailing temperature. Mr. Curtis having remarked the same species to
be oviparous in the open air, which when sheltered from the wind, in
a green-house, was viviparous. The wood-louse, it has been remarked,
sometimes produces its young in the state of an egg, sometimes brings
them forth perfectly alive. Redi also mentions a similar circumstance,
in his work on the generation of insects, in reference to some of the
flies he describes.--T.
The ants did not abandon these eggs to make their escape; a stronger
instinct retained them: they hastened to conceal them under the small
dwelling, which I held in my hand, and when I reached home, I drew them
from it, to observe them more attentively. Viewed with a microscope,
they appeared nearly of the form of ants’ eggs, but their colour was
entirely different; the greater part were black; others were of a
cloudy yellow. I found them in several ant-hills, and obtained them
of different degrees in shade; they were not all black and yellow;
some were brown, of a slight, and also of a brilliant red and white;
others were of a colour less distinct, as a straw colour, greyish, &c.
I remarked they were not of the same colour at both extremities.
To observe them more closely, I placed them in the cover of a box faced
with glass; they were collected in a heap, like the eggs of ants; their
guardians seemed to value them highly; after having visited them,
they placed one part in the earth, but I witnessed the attention they
bestowed upon the rest: they approached them slightly separating their
pincers, passed their tongue between each, extended them, then walked
alternately over them, depositing, I believe, a liquid substance as
they proceeded. They appeared to treat them exactly as if they were
eggs of their own species; they touched them with their antennæ, and
frequently carried them in their mouths; they did not quit these eggs
a single instant; they took them up, turned them, and after having
surveyed them with affectionate regard, conveyed them, with extreme
tenderness, to the little chamber of earth I had placed at their
disposal. They were not, however, the eggs of ants; we know that these
are extremely white, becoming transparent, as they increase in age,
but never acquire a colour essentially different.[6] I was, for a
long time, unacquainted with the origin of those of which I have just
spoken, and by chance, discovered they contained little pucerons; but
it was not these individual eggs I saw them quit, it was other eggs,
which were a little larger, found in the nests of Yellow Ants, and of
a particular species. On opening the ant-hill, I discovered several
chambers, containing a great number of brown eggs, the ants were
extremely jealous of them, carrying them away, and quickly too, to the
bottom of the nest, disputing and contending for them with a zeal which
left me no doubt of the strong attachment with which they regard them.
[6] Gould has taken notice of these black eggs, which he considers to
be the female eggs of ants: here, however, he labours under a mistake,
for they are evidently the eggs of the _Aphides_, or _Pucerons_. We
learn from Mr. Kirby, that in a nest of yellow ants, which fell under
his observation, he saw near the surface a parcel of the eggs of the
Aphides, and these he knew by their black colour.--T.
Desirous of conciliating their interests, as well as my own, I took the
ants and their treasure, and placed them in such a manner that I might
easily observe them. These eggs were never abandoned. The ants took the
same care of them as the former. The following day I saw one of these
eggs open, and a puceron fully formed, having a large trunk, quit it.
I knew it to be a puceron of the oak: the others were disclosed a few
days after, and the greater number in my presence. They set immediately
about sucking the juice from some branches of the tree I gave them, and
the ants now found, within their reach, a recompense for their care
and attention.
The ant-hill, whence these eggs had been taken, was situated at the
foot of an oak, which readily accounts for their existence in that
place. I discovered them in the spring; the pucerons which quitted them
were very large, for insects just born, but they had not yet obtained
their full size. M. Bonnet, to whom we are indebted for many important
discoveries upon the pucerons and their generation, speaks of their
eggs, which he has often seen affixed to the branches of trees; he
believes that the insect, in a state nearly perfect, quits the body of
its mother in that covering which shelters it from the cold in winter,
and that it is not, as other germs are, in the egg, surrounded by food,
by means of which it is developed and supported. It is nothing more
than an asylum of which the pucerons born at another season have no
need: it is on this account some are produced naked, others enveloped
in a covering. The mothers are not then truly oviparous, since their
young are almost as perfect as they ever will be, in the asylum in
which Nature has placed them at their birth. M. Bonnet vainly attempted
to preserve these kind of eggs in his chamber until the spring; he
imagines, that to have attained this end, they should have been kept in
a certain degree of humidity, which would have happened to them in a
state of nature.
It appears, then, that ants know every thing that is necessary to the
preservation of these eggs; they pass their tongue constantly over
them, and invest them with a glutinous matter, which retains them
together. They, in consequence, are preserved until the period when the
pucerons quit them: they employ then the same means to preserve their
covey, if I may use this expression, that M. Bonnet supposed would
preserve these eggs, and secure their disclosure in the spring. We
have reason to believe that this celebrated man would have admired with
us this part of their industry, if natural history had not lost in him
her most worthy contemplator.
CHAPTER VII.
FIRST HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE AMAZON ANTS.
We have hitherto treated only of labouring ants, of societies composed
of three sorts of individuals, of operations equally divided among
the labourers, and of transient wars, without any fixed purpose, or
having only for their object common defence. The Amazon Ants present us
manners and habits totally different,--republics peculiarly constituted
and organised,--character dissimilar,--wars regularly instituted,--in
a word, a separate history; and of which no author has yet given any
account.
On the 17th June, 1804, whilst walking in the environs of Geneva,
between four and five in the evening, I observed close at my feet,
traversing the road, a legion of Rufescent Ants.[1]
[1] For a description of this species see the Appendix.
They moved in a body with considerable rapidity, and occupied a space
of from eight to ten inches in length, by three or four in breadth. In
a few minutes they quitted the road, passed a thick hedge, and entered
a pasture ground, where I followed them. They wound along the grass
without straggling, and their column remained unbroken, notwithstanding
the obstacles they had to surmount; at length they approached a nest,
inhabited by dark Ash-coloured Ants, the dome of which rose above
the grass, at a distance of twenty feet from the hedge. Some of its
inhabitants were guarding the entrance; but, on the discovery of an
approaching army, darted forth upon the advanced guard. The alarm
spread at the same moment in the interior, and their companions came
forth in numbers from their underground residence. The Rufescent
Ants, the bulk of whose army lay only at the distance of two paces,
quickened their march to arrive at the foot of the ant-hill; the whole
battalion, in an instant, fell upon and overthrew the Ash-coloured
Ants, who, after a short, but obstinate conflict, retired to the bottom
of their nest. The Rufescent Ants now ascended the hillock, collected
in crowds on the summit, and took possession of the principal avenues,
leaving some of their companions to work an opening in the side of the
ant-hill with their teeth. Success crowned their enterprise, and by
the newly made breach the remainder of the army entered. Their sojourn
was, however, of short duration, for in three or four minutes they
returned by the same apertures which gave them entrance, each bearing
off in its mouth a larva or a pupa; they retraced the route by which
they had arrived, and proceeded one after another, without order or
regularity.[2] The whole army might be readily distinguished in the
grass, by the contrast afforded by the Rufescent Ants, and the white
eggs and pupæ they had captured. They repassed the hedge and the road,
in the place they had previously crossed it, and then directed their
course through a field of ripened corn, where I experienced the regret
of not being able to follow them.
[2] The tactics of these marauders vary with the enemy they have to
contend with; in this instance, conscious of carrying off their booty,
without further opposition from the Ash-coloured Ants, the army no
longer keeps in rank, but separates into straggling parties, each
hastening by a different route, to deposit their spoil in the common
treasury; but, when these intrepid adventurers attack a nest of mining
ants, and return successful, they are then obliged, from the known
spirit and courage of the latter, to keep close order, and march in
a body to the very gates of their citadel; as it not unfrequently
happens, they are followed and harassed the whole way by the mining
ants, who leave no exertion untried to recover their treasure.--T.
I now retraced my steps towards the scene of the recent assault, and
there found a small number of Ash-coloured labourers, perched upon
the stalks of plants, holding in their mouths the few larvæ they had
rescued from pillage; these they shortly carried back to their former
station.
This feature, so prominent in the history of Rufescent Ants, of whose
real name I was then ignorant, induced me to give them the appellation
of Amazon or Legionary Ants, as being most analogous to their martial
character; these denominations I still retain; therefore, when I speak
of Rufescent, Amazon, or Legionary Ants, it will be understood that I
am treating of the same species.[3]
[3] To avoid the too frequent repetition of the same word, I shall take
the liberty, when speaking of the dark Ash-coloured Ant, occasionally
to use the appellation of Negro, or Negro Ant; a term not inapplicable,
when we consider the dark colour of this species, and the situation it
holds in the colony, of providing for and administering to, the wants,
&c. of the Amazons.--T.
I returned the following morning at the same hour, by the route I had
observed the Amazon army take, in the hope of acquiring some knowledge
of the phenomenon of which I had been a witness, when I discovered the
habitation of one of these martial hordes.
I observed on the right of the road a large ant-hill, covered with
ants of that species. They formed into column, set forth in a body,
and fell upon one of the habitations of the Ash-coloured Ants, in
which, experiencing little or no opposition, they entered. One party
immediately returned, bearing in their pincers the purloined larvæ;
another party, less fortunate, quitted the scene of attack, without
reaping any advantage from their expedition:--the former took the
road to their own citadel; the latter marched in a body upon a second
ant-hill, tenanted by the same species as the first, where they made
ample booty. The whole army, now forming two divisions, hastened to the
spot from which it had taken its departure. I reached the garrison a
little before them; but what was my surprise to observe all around, a
great number of that identical species they had gone forth to attack. I
raised up a portion of the building, I still saw more; this induced me
to regard it as one of the habitations that had already been pillaged
by the Amazons, when my suspicions were removed by the arrival of the
Amazon legion at the entrance, charged with the trophies of victory.
Its return excited no alarm among the Negro Ants, who, whilst the
Legionaries were descending with their booty, so far from offering
opposition, were even seen to approach these warriors, caress them with
their antennæ, offer them nourishment, as is the custom with those of
their own species, take up some of the larvæ, and carry them into the
nest. The Amazons remained within the rest of the day: the Negro Ants
kept their station some time without, but retired before night.
No enigma ever raised my curiosity so high as this singular discovery;
and I had the satisfaction of finding near my own residence several
ant-hills of the same kind, not a little astonished at being the first
to notice their existence.
Conscious of the great advantage of having them so near me, I
determined to devote the whole of my time to them. As I was extremely
impatient to ascertain the nature of the connexion between these
different species, I opened one of their dwellings, and there observed
a great number of Rufescent mingled with Ash-coloured Ants, which gave
me some general idea upon this head. The latter were busily engaged
in re-establishing the several avenues, hollowing out galleries,
and carrying below the exposed larvæ and pupæ. The Amazons, on the
contrary, passed over the larvæ, &c. with indifference, not once
deigning to lift them, or take any part in the labours going forward;
they wandered for some time over the surface, and then retired to the
bottom of their citadel.
But at five in the evening, the scene undergoes a complete and almost
immediate change. The Amazons leave their retreat, become restless,
and assemble on the outside. They are all in motion; none, however,
move but in a curved line, and in such a way, as quickly to return to
the outer wall of their garrison; their number increases each moment,
they describe greater circles, a signal is communicated, they pass
from one to the other, striking as they proceed with their antennæ and
forehead the breast of their companions; these, in their turn, approach
those advancing, and communicate the same signal; it is that of
departure; the result satisfactorily proves it. We see those receiving
the intimation, put themselves at the moment in march, and join the
rest of the troop. The column becomes organised, advances in a straight
line, passes over the turf, and removes to a considerable distance.
Not a single Amazon is any longer to be seen near the garrison. The
advanced guard sometimes halts until the rear-guard comes up, and then
diverge to the right and left without advancing; the army forms anew,
and again moves forward with rapidity. There is no commander-in-chief,
every ant is in turn first, each seeking to be foremost; some, however,
move in a different direction, pass from the front to the rear, then
retrace their steps and follow the general movement. There are always
a small number constantly returning to the rear, and it is probably in
this way the movement of the whole army is governed.
At a little more than thirty feet from their own residence, they stop
and explore the ground with their antennæ, much in the same way as dogs
when searching for game. They soon find a subterranean Negro ant-hill,
to the bottom of which its inhabitants have retired. The Legionary
Ants, unopposed, penetrate an open gallery; the whole army enter, seize
upon the pupæ, and return through the several apertures, immediately
taking the road to their garrison. It is now no longer an army disposed
in column, it is an undisciplined horde. The Amazons run after each
other with rapidity, and the last comers from the stormed city are
followed by some few of its inhabitants, who endeavour to wrest from
them their prize; an effort in which it but rarely happens they are
successful.
I return to the garrison to be once more a witness of the reception
given to these plunderers by the Ash-coloured Ants, with whom they
dwell. I observe a considerable number of pupæ heaped up before the
door; each Amazon on its arrival deposits its burthen, and then returns
to the invaded ant-hill;--their auxiliaries suspend their labours in
masonry, and come forward to the pupæ, which they carry one by one
into the interior. The Negroes are also frequently seen to unload
the Amazons, after having amicably touched them with their antennæ,
when the latter yield to them, without opposition, the pupæ they have
purloined.
Let us still follow this army of plunderers on their return a second
time, to the attack of the nearly ruined ant-hill. Its inhabitants,
however, have had time to recover themselves, and to station a strong
guard at each of the entrances. The Legionaries, who are in small
numbers at first, take flight as soon as they perceive the Negroes in a
state of defence; they return to the main body of the army, and advance
and retreat several times successively, until they are in sufficient
force; they then throw themselves _en masse_ upon one of the galleries,
driving away and putting in confusion its inhabitants. The whole army
now enter the subterranean city, and seize upon the larvæ, which they
carry off in great numbers, and in great haste. They never take any of
the parent ants prisoners, their sole object being the possession of
their offspring. Upon their return to the garrison, the most friendly
reception is still given to the Amazons, who--their associates having
arranged the produce of their first harvest,--either deposit their
load at the entrance, or consign it to those in attendance, who hasten
to place it in the interior.
Could one for a moment suppose, that these intrepid warriors would
return a third time to the pillage? This time, however, they had to
undertake a siege in regular form, for the individuals, from whom
they had twice successively taken larvæ and pupæ, had lost no time
in throwing up trenches, barricading the several entrances, and
reinforcing the guard of the interior, as if fully aware of this third
attack from their adversaries. They had, moreover, brought together
all the little pieces of wood and earth within reach, with which they
had blocked up the passage to their habitation, in which they were
posted in force. The Legionaries at first hesitated to approach, but
rambled about or returned to the rear, until sufficiently reinforced;
they then, upon a given signal, rushed forward _en masse_ with great
impetuosity, and began removing with their teeth and feet, the
many obstacles that opposed their progress. Having succeeded, they
entered the ant-hill by hundreds, notwithstanding the resistance of
its inhabitants, and carried off their prize to the garrison. But
this time, in lieu of remitting to their associates their plunder,
they carried it into the under-ground chambers themselves, where they
remained the rest of the day.
On the 23d June, at half-past three, when the sun was extremely
powerful, a few of the Amazons quitted their abode, and after taking
a survey of the environs, re-entered; a moment after, others, but
in trifling number, came to take the air at the entrance of one of
the galleries, where they seemed to await the favourable moment for
commencing their expedition. At a quarter before five they sallied
forth in crowds, and appeared extremely restless; some advanced
into the meadow, whilst others remained on the ant-hill; but a few,
returning to the rear, by the effect of that tactic we have elsewhere
noticed, arrived at the garrison and gave the signal for departure,
by approaching in turn, and striking with their antennæ all their
compatriots, who immediately put themselves in march to join the army.
This warlike phalanx took a direction different from that of the
preceding evening, but soon stopped in their course, and separated in
search of some ant-hill, but experiencing no success, they again formed
and continued their march, until they alighted upon one hidden in the
grass, at about fifty paces from their own dwelling. The Ash-coloured
Ants, frightened at the unexpected arrival and number of the Amazons,
took flight, leaving the latter to make ample booty of larvæ and pupæ,
which they carried off to their own abode.
Another army infinitely more numerous than the first, now issued from
the garrison, and took a different direction in their march, which was
somewhat tedious; they passed untouched several ant-hills inhabited
by a different species, but finding, at length, a nest of Ash-coloured
Ants, they attacked it with their usual fury, and returned laden with
pupæ and larvæ. I was a witness every day during the summer to these
invasions, of which I shall have frequent occasion still to speak.
CHAPTER VIII.
RESEARCHES INTO THE ORIGIN OF MIXED OR COMPOUND ANT-HILLS.
The discovery of societies composed of different species, apparently
living tranquilly together, was of but trifling consideration; an
object of by far higher interest was, to ascertain the real nature and
intent of this association, and to decide to which of the two casts
the ant-hill appertained. The most effectual method of acquiring this
information, was undoubtedly that of inspecting the interior of their
common abode, and of thus coming to the fact, whether there were males
and females of the two species, or of one only; as a previous step, it
was however necessary to institute a comparison between the allied and
rival ants, the Amazons, and the peaceable Ash-coloured Ants, and the
latter intermixed with those of the same species, in simple ant-hills.
The comparison, I would even say the confronting, of the Ash-coloured
Ants in compound, with those inhabiting simple ant-hills, daily
repeated, and often with the microscope, left me no doubt of their
identity.
The Rufescent Ant, denominated by M. Latreille, _Fourmi roussâtre_, in
every point answers the description of those that fell under my own
observation. This author, having made, not only a genus apart, but a
distinct class of these insects, from the simple inspection of their
form, had, without knowing their manners, given the best proof of the
distance which separates them from the dark Ash-coloured Ants. In the
notes at the end of this work, a description is given of both species;
I shall here, however, briefly describe them to prevent the trouble of
recurrence. The former (_Fourmi roussâtre_) is one-third larger than
the latter (_Fourmi noir-cendrée_); its head is of a square form, its
abdomen short and globose, terminating in an obtuse point. It carries
its head close to the ground, stands high upon its legs, and moves by
a succession of jerks. The latter has a triangular-shaped head, which
it carries in an horizontal position; its abdomen is an elongated
oval, its feet are short, and its progressive movement more equal and
uniform. The Rufescent Ant is of one uniform colour, from the antennæ
to the extremity of the abdomen, of a red more or less falling into
yellow, and more or less passing into a brownish tint according to its
age; the whole of its body is, as it were, invested with a rich glossy
varnish. The dark Ash-coloured Ant is sufficiently well described in
its denomination; the rings of its body vary in colour from black to
grey, the rest of the body is of an unpolished black, but that part
lying between the thorax and abdomen (_l’etranglement_) is more
frequently of the same colour; now and then it presents a yellow tinge,
the feet are in colour a little paler. The mandibles or pincers of
the Rufescent Ant, are very slender, arched, destitute of teeth, and
present no concavity; those of the Ash-coloured Ant are large, broad,
hollowed like a spoon, shaped as a gouge, and furnished with teeth
on the margin. The eyes of the former species are very small, black,
and round; those of the latter, rather large and oval. The scale is
large and rounded in the one, large and triangular in the other; the
Rufescent Ant is moreover provided with a sting, of which the dark
Ash-coloured Ant is destitute. We see from this description how much
these species differ.
Let us now pass on to the important research of the males and females,
to determine who are the original tenants of the ant-hill, the Amazons,
or the Negroes, for we must look upon those born there as the first
occupants. From an inspection of the interior of one of these mixed
ant-hills, I came to the knowledge of the singular composition of these
republics. The Negro labourers, by far the most numerous, occupied the
upper story of the building; they were guarding a multitude of pupæ,
which appeared to be of two different species: some resembled those
of the Negro Ants (probably what the Amazons had brought thither),
others exhibited the perfect mould of the Martial Ants; these were
larger than the preceding, their mandibles were slender and arched,
their eyes small and black; added to this, they had every character
of that species. There was also under the guard of the Negro Ants, a
considerable number of larvæ, belonging to different species, admitting
of easy distinction, from the curvature and thickness of the body.
Descending another story, I perceived the Amazons collected in numerous
groups, mingled with the Negroes; but what most interested me, and
fully satisfied my curiosity, was, the finding among them little
males, entirely black, with glittering wings, bearing no resemblance
to those I had hitherto met with. At length I observed females of a
large size, of an orange colour, whose similitude to the Rufescent
Ants, clearly denoted their origin. The greater part possessed wings;
in their body, eyes, and teeth, they closely resembled the Warrior
labourers, but were of greater size. The males were not so large as
those commonly found in simple Negro dwellings, and were unlike them,
in not having either the feet or antennæ yellow.
In further examining the interior of this nest, which was of great
depth and extent, I remarked that the Negroes were alone occupied in
watching over these males and females, who allowed themselves to be
conducted from place to place, as if they looked upon them as their
natural parents. The Amazons, on the other hand, took not the slightest
notice of them, but retired and hid themselves as quickly as possible.
On looking around, I could see no traces of destruction, nor indeed
any thing to justify a suspicion that the Legionary ants were endowed
with a ferocious instinct, although one would be inclined to this
belief from their martial disposition.
It seems sufficiently demonstrated by what we have seen of the contents
of a mixed ant-hill, that _it belongs to the Amazons_, and that it
is composed _of three sorts of individuals of that species_, and _of
Negro labourers_. With all my care, I could perceive neither males
nor females of this latter cast, but only young Negro working ants,
and these I recognised by their colour. But whence does this proceed?
Are the larvæ and pupæ taken away from the Negro Ants by the Amazons
developed in the enemy’s encampment, and do they afterwards become
house-stewards, and auxiliaries to the warlike tribe with whom they
are associated? Every circumstance seems to prove that here rests the
great mystery of their association with the Amazons: brought up in a
strange nation, not only do they live sociably with their captors, but
bestow the greatest care upon their larvæ and pupæ, their males and
females, and even evince the same regard for them, transporting them
from one part of the ant-hill to another, going in search of provisions
for them, building their habitation; forming, as occasion requires,
new galleries, and fulfilling the duties of sentinels, by guarding the
exterior of their common abode, not once suspecting that they live with
those very insects who have expatriated them.
Whilst the Negro Ants are thus engaged, the Amazons tranquilly wait
at the bottom of their subterranean abode, the hour of departure,
reserving their strength, their courage, and the tactic they so well
know how to put in use, for the purpose of bringing in, from some
neighbouring ant-hill, hundreds of larvæ, which they confide to those
in charge of the household establishment; these, in their turn, are
destined to become useful to the community.
The ants, whose habitation I had deranged, had already furnished
me with some traits leading to a conjecture of these truths. When
the Amazons, deceived by the strange appearance of their nest, were
wandering over the surface, unable to find a retreat, the Negro Ants,
who were incessantly occupied in forming new galleries, and who knew
better than they the new localities of the ant-hill, drew them from
their embarrassment by taking them up gently in their mandibles,
and conducting them to the galleries already pierced. An Amazon was
frequently seen to approach a Negro, and play upon its head with its
antennæ, when the latter immediately seized it in its pincers, and
deposited it at one of the entrances. The Amazon Ant then unrolled
itself, caressed once more its kind friend, and passed into the
interior of the nest. It now and then happened that a Negro Ant,
engaged in carrying an Amazon, lost all knowledge of its route,
wandering here and there without finding any entrance.
I observed one, after several ineffectual windings, take the precaution
of laying on the earth the Amazon, who remained in the same spot until
the Negro returned to its assistance, who, having well ascertained and
examined one of the entrances, resumed its burthen, and bore it into
the interior. If the entrance to any gallery was unluckily obstructed
by a mass of earth, and the Negro Ant wished to introduce by that way
one of the Amazons, it quickly deposited its load, and began clearing
away the impediment; this was no sooner effected, than the Amazon was
again taken up, and carried triumphantly into the nest.
If individual facts prove the harmony which reigns between these two
species, living under the same roof, general facts fully illustrate
what has been already stated.
We may readily see, from the appearance of mixed ant-hills, they are
the sole work of the Ash-coloured Ants, although they are of greater
extent than simple ant-hills, inhabited by that species, arising
from their double population, and the prodigious number of auxiliary
ants they contain. Their form, the architecture displayed in their
construction, the substance of which they are composed, the interior
arrangement, is altogether alike. I have frequently seen the Negro
Ants of compound ant-hills take advantage of the rain to construct new
stories upon their original domicile; they also often increase the
extent of it by forming halls and chambers on the exterior margin; so
that in three or four days they form, as it were, a new dwelling around
the first enclosure.
The Legionaries never venture abroad, like the Ash-coloured Ants,
during the rain, nor do they even, during that period, advance so far
as the outer gallery; nor are any seen, as one would suppose, presiding
over the masons, in their work; indeed, the Negroes require neither an
inspector, nor the excitement of the sting, to induce them to labour;
for they are eager to build whilst the rain continues, and their
work advances rapidly, on account of their number being infinitely
more considerable than that of the labourers in a simple ant-hill.
Their operations being finished, they are extremely solicitous the
Legionaries should enjoy the advantage; to this end, they lose no time
in transferring the colony from the old to the new habitation. But if
we are desirous of witnessing a still more curious spectacle, we must
observe them when they are about to change their domicile for one more
convenient, it being upon them alone the office falls of deciding the
urgency of an emigration, and of choosing the situation best adapted
(usually one where the soil is loose, admitting of greater facility
of mining) for a new establishment. We see them at first engaged in
carrying each other to the place destined to this object, where
each Negro Ant either begins immediately clearing away the earth, or
returns to bring away more of its comrades. When the new habitation
is sufficiently advanced, they transport thither all the Amazons. We
now see, in the road of communication between the old and new city, a
file of Negro Ants, carrying the Legionaries, whose colour strikingly
contrasts with that of their conductors. By these faithful guardians,
the males and females are afterwards brought away in the same manner,
and on their arriving at the entrance of the lodge prepared for them,
are placed successively before the door, when other Negro labourers
come forward and take them into the nest. The larvæ and pupæ are now
taken away in their turn, and safely deposited in the new habitation.
In the morning these trusty servants go in search of provisions for
the whole colony; at one time they bring back little dead animals, at
another time return with their stomachs full of the liquor furnished
them by the pucerons. They may be constantly seen going and coming on
the road to the ant-hill. This is not the case with the Legionaries,
for they never go in quest of the pucerons, and it is a rare
circumstance should they venture forth during the early part of the day.
We have now taken a view of the Negro Ants or auxiliaries in the
several offices of, procuring provisions for the republic, constructing
a common abode, and conducting thither its varied inhabitants; the
Amazons, a colony of soldiers, have, on the contrary, no other
occupation, and no other talent than that for war; their manners are
altogether distinct. They seldom leave their retreat, unless the
temperature be above the 16th degree of Reaumur (67° of Fahrenheit)
when placed in the shade. The general rendezvous commonly takes place a
little before five in the evening: I have, however, sometimes seen them
take their departure earlier, but never before two, nor later than
five. They always return at six or half past six. They never quit their
abode, unless the weather be fine.
These insects have but one object in their excursions, that of stealing
the young from an industrious race, and making slaves of them; and
these are the very individuals, who, after a time, labour for this
Amazon colony, rear their young, and furnish them with provisions. This
being the sole aim of the Amazons, they never seize any but larvæ and
working pupæ, for the males and females would be useless. Nature would
not assuredly allow the destruction of the habitations of Negro Ants,
since this would be to involve in equal ruin those of the Amazons.
These warlike ants are sufficiently well acquainted with all the
nests inhabited by Ash-coloured Ants in their neighbourhood, to each
of which, in turn, they pay a visit. The route is every day varied,
and, as already stated, the same nest is often pillaged several times
successively; but they never destroy those ant-hills from which they
have carried off the young. In the combats, that almost invariably take
place, but very few Negro Ants perish, since their adversaries have
no desire of making them prisoners, or of disputing the possession of
their invaded city. I have sometimes seen the Amazons, when disposed
in column, take one direction, then suddenly return to the garrison,
and again proceed in a contrary direction. I have also witnessed their
army, but very rarely, separate into two divisions, each taking a
different route. The smallest division, however, on perceiving it is
not in sufficient force, falls back, and rejoins the other; but when
their force is nearly equal, each party goes to pillage separately, and
returns to the garrison laden with booty. It is not so much by their
real force, as by their impetuosity, that they succeed in spreading
dismay among the Ash-coloured Ants; for I have seen an army, composed,
at the most, of only one hundred and fifty Amazons, penetrate one of
their habitations, and afterwards safely convey the purloined pupæ to
their own citadel. What motive can possibly influence the Amazons in
taking a certain route, or falling upon one ant-hill, in preference
to another? To this I can give no direct reply. I once witnessed a
Legionary Ant leave the nest before the hour of departure, apparently
on a journey of discovery; I watched its movements for some time in the
grass, and found it to visit every dry situation, and every place which
seemed to announce the existence of an ant-hill, but I lost sight of it
before its return. I have also seen a few return alone from a distant
spot, and enter precipitately the garrison, when the army put itself
in motion, and commenced a line of march precisely in that direction
by which the couriers had arrived; however, I can, by no means, affirm
this was the reason of their departure.
The signal they adopt is extremely varied; sometimes they strike
against each other with their forehead or mandibles previous to the
commencement of their march; at other times they appear to excite, by
the play of their antennæ, a warlike ardour among their companions;
it would appear that in this way a knowledge of their route is
communicated, for it seems to be fixed at the moment of departure,
since the army proceeds straight to its purpose. What is remarkable
in the arrangement is, that none of the ants composing the troop move
constantly in the same direction; on their arrival at the head of the
column, they make a little circuit _en forme de boucle_, and re-enter
the main body, then, as before noticed, return to the rear-guard, for
the purpose of giving instruction to those behind. Eight or ten of the
Amazons seek every opportunity of outstripping their comrades; these
form the front of the battalion, but this they scarcely attain before
they fall back into the general mass, and thus the advanced guard
sustains a continual renovation.
I have never seen Amazon females in these armies: the neuters alone,
as in all the other species, subject themselves to the chances of war.
They do not march by groping or feeling their way, but run after their
companions in arms, without any fear of straggling, and even should
they do so, which is rarely the case, they are then brought back to the
ant-hill by some of the Negro Ants, who, upon discovering them, seem
sufficiently to understand the nature of their situation.
I was once present when the whole army appeared to be deceived in
its route. It commenced its march after the ordinary manner; in
place, however, of following a straight line, it described a curve,
and reached a distance of about fifty paces, halting several times.
After diverging on all sides, without discovering any of the usual
objects of attack, they fell again into column, and returned by
the same road to their garrison, reaping no advantage from their
expedition. The decision they took of returning would furnish ample
matter for reflection. I shall not now, however, enlarge upon this
subject, but limit myself to the question, how can this fact be
explained on the supposition of a blind instinct?[1] But here is a
fact still more extraordinary. Upon their return our Amazons met with
no flattering reception from the Negroes in the mixed ant-hill, who
individually assailed, buffeted and dragged them to the outside of
the nest, where they even obliged them to act on the defensive: this
hostile disposition, however, continued only a few moments, when the
Amazons were allowed to re-enter their citadel. Are we to conclude
that the Negro Ants were surprised at seeing them arrive without
their accustomed booty, or did the larvæ, &c. serve in their eyes as
passports for those with whose fate their own was so intimately linked?
[1] There are few terms of more extensive signification than that of
_instinct_. In its ordinary acceptation, it implies that principle
which determines the conduct of animals in their several operations.
Admitting, however, _all their ordinary operations_ to be regulated by
such a power, what have we to say touching those instances (and many
such are on record) where, from existing circumstances, the habits of
the animals have undergone _a complete change_, and _recourse has been
had to certain means to attain certain ends_. Man fondly arrogates
to himself an active principle pervading his nature, denominated
_mind_: that he should feel justly proud of this distinction, of that
intellectual superiority which places him so high in the scale of
animal existence, excites little surprise; but let him have the candour
to imagine, that he, perhaps, is not the only being thus gifted; let
him but allow a small portion of the same influence upon the lower
order of beings, and we shall then have a rational theory to account
for those occasional deviations from their natural habits that are
inexplicable on the ground of instinct alone.--T.
The Legionaries never take animal food. I have often cast among them
living insects, such as caterpillars, worms, &c., but never observed
they touched them. I have also placed before them small pieces
of meat, raw and roasted, from which they turned away with equal
indifference, the Negro Ants seizing upon it at the moment.
Another experiment, which I frequently repeated, was that of placing
my hand before the army when in march; the Amazons passed between my
fingers, unalarmed at my presence; none attempted to pinch or sting me.
We could not put to the same proof, with impunity, all other species of
ants.[2]
[2] The Red Ants of this country, on being disturbed, become
excessively angry, and fasten upon the hands and uncovered parts of
the body, where they produce an almost intolerable itching, not much
unlike that occasioned by the stinging nettle. From Perceval we learn,
that the large Red Ants of Ceylon, which live on trees, and build their
nests among the branches, bite very severely. This seems, also, to be
the case with a black ant found in the same island, which, according
to Knox, “bites desperately; as bad as if a man were burnt by a coal
of fire.” Anderson, in his account of the natural productions of Van
Diemen’s Land, states, among other insects, he met with two that were
excessively troublesome, the mosquito, and a large black ant, whose
bite, he observes, occasioned very severe pain. Sir Joseph Banks
notices a green ant, which he saw in New South Wales, that produces
a pain equal to the sting of a bee; and Stedman informs us, that,
at Surinam, the Fire Ant (so called from the burning sensation it
occasions) greatly annoyed the soldiers, making them leap about, as if
scalded with boiling water.--T.
I have never seen the Amazons take nourishment but from the mouth of
the Negroes. I have presented to them honey and fruit, which they left
untasted. When hungry, they approach their auxiliaries, and these
disgorge in their mouths the juices they have obtained in their daily
intercourse with the _pucerons_.
An experiment that I tried upon the Legionaries convinced me of their
dependance upon their humble companions, both for nourishment and
habitation. I enclosed thirty of these ants, with several pupæ and
larvæ of their own species, and twenty pupæ belonging to the Negroes,
in a glass box, the bottom of which was covered with a thick layer of
earth: I placed a little honey in the corner of their prison, and cut
off all association with their auxiliaries. At first they appeared to
pay some little attention to the larvæ; they carried them here and
there, but presently replaced them. More than one-half of the Amazons
died of hunger in less than two days. They had not even traced out a
dwelling, and the few ants still in existence were languid, and without
strength. I commiserated their condition, and gave them one of their
black companions. This individual, unassisted, established order,
formed a chamber in the earth, gathered together the larvæ, extricated
several young ants that were ready to quit the condition of pupæ, and
preserved the life of the remaining Amazons. This result needs no
commentary: I leave to each the liberty of drawing his own conclusions.
CHAP. IX.
FURTHER INFORMATION ON THE AMAZON ANTS.
If any proof were still wanting of the origin of auxiliary ants in
mixed ant-hills, the discovery of other habitations of this kind would,
doubtless, throw much light upon this subject. I had not long been
occupied, before I discovered such, in which the Amazons were the same,
but the auxiliaries different, being of that species denominated Mining
Ants.
The Mining Ants (_Fourmi mineuse_), who build after the manner of Negro
Ants (of which I have already treated in the chapter on architecture),
are a little larger than the latter, from which they also differ
in the colour of the breast, which is of a bright red. The feet and
antennæ are also of a reddish cast; in regard to the rest of the body,
there is a close resemblance: but for the real distinction between
these two species, we must look to their character. The Mining Ants
possess great vivacity, are very courageous, and live upon animal food.
The Negro Ants are, on the other hand, timid and pacific. It was not,
therefore, without astonishment, that I saw, for the first time, an
ant-hill, composed of Legionary and Mining Ants; it was at least thrice
the size of the simple Miner ant-hills, and contained a vast number of
inhabitants of the two casts. Among the individuals of this society,
the same kind of intelligence seemed to reign as among those which had
fallen under my previous notice.
The Mining Ants go forth in a crowd, from morning until evening, for
the purpose of foraging in the neighbourhood, and thus providing for
the wants of the colony: on their return they share the fruits of
their industry with the Amazons, who are as idle in this community, as
in that of compound Negro ant-hills. The Mining Ants, moreover, are
alone employed in establishing a new domicile, and transporting thither
the Rufescent Ants, their pupæ, their larvæ, and the rest of the
colony, whenever they wish to change their abode; in a word, they are
equally excellent labourers as the Negro Ants, and display much more
zeal in defending their nest.
If compound ant-hills owe their existence to the pillage of the pupæ,
the object of the Amazon Ants in their excursions would be, to attack
the dwelling of Mining Ants, when their associates were of that cast,
and of Negro Ants when they lived with ants of that species.
In the neighbourhood of the mixed ant-hill of which I have just spoken,
comprising a circumference of more than fifty paces, there was no
habitation of Negro Ants: but, of the Miner ant-hills there was great
abundance. This, therefore, was a sufficient reason for believing,
that the ants of that species, living with the Amazons, drew their
origin from these several colonies. To be assured of this, I visited
a compound Miner ant-hill, between four and five in the evening, a
time when the army usually commences its march: the Amazons were
already assembled on the nest, and ready to set forth; they proceeded
like a torrent along a deep dyke, and marched in a more compact body
than ordinary. In a short time they reached the nest they proposed to
attack, which was inhabited by Mining Ants. As soon as the Legionaries
began entering the subterranean city, the Miners rushed out in crowds,
and whilst some fell upon the invaders with great spirit, others passed
through the scene of contest, solely occupied in bearing off to a
place of safety their larvæ and pupæ. The surface of the nest was for
some time the theatre of war. The Legionaries were often despoiled
of the pupæ they had seized by the Miners, who darted upon them with
amazing spirit, fighting body to body, and disputing the ground with
an exasperation I had never before witnessed. The Amazon army was,
notwithstanding successful, and recommenced its march in good order,
laden with pupæ and larvæ: instead, however, of proceeding in file, it
now maintained close rank, forming a compact mass, a precaution the
more necessary, as the courageous insects upon whom they had made this
attack, hastened in pursuit, and even harassed them, to within ten
paces of their citadel.
During these combats the pillaged ant-hill presented, in miniature, the
spectacle of a besieged city: hundreds of its inhabitants were observed
to quit it, carrying here and there the pupæ, larvæ, and young females
they were anxious to preserve from the fury of their enemies. The
major part mounted the neighbouring plants, bearing the young between
their teeth; others deposited them under the thick bushes. When the
danger was entirely gone by, they brought them back into the city, and
barricaded the gates, near which they posted themselves in great number
to guard the entrance. All was calm, however, in the mixed ant-hill;
the Amazons had entered quietly their abode, and had been received by
the auxiliary ants as the real proprietors.
Immediately after, the Legionaries again departed, and proceeded
towards a Miner ant-hill of considerable extent, considering themselves
in sufficient force to cope with the guardians of that habitation: they
threw themselves _en masse_ upon one of the galleries indifferently
guarded; but their number not permitting them to enter all at once, the
Mining Ants that were without, immediately precipitated themselves upon
the invaders: and whilst they were engaged in desperate combat, their
fellow-citizens in considerable number, losing, perhaps, every hope of
defending their abode, and the little ones confided to their care,
left the nest with the pupæ, larvæ, and youngest ants, took flight in
every direction, and literally covered the ground to a considerable
distance. The contest became every moment warmer: here the Amazons
were endeavouring to seize the pupæ, which the Miners were removing
from the seat of war; there the besieged were observed to wrest from
the conquerors the fruit of their rapine. Confusion was at its height;
Legionaries and Miners attacked each other impetuously, and often in
the excess of their fury, deceived as to their object, fell upon their
companions, whom, however, they immediately released. This commotion
was confined to the rear-guard of the Legionary army; the main body,
richly freighted, left the devastated city, and forming into square
battalion, retraced their steps to their own citadel, constantly
assailed by the Miners, who, for some time, continued the pursuit.
It is only by their address, the rapidity of their movements, and
the use of their sting, that the Legionaries are enabled to disengage
themselves. I have often remarked, during these combats, the females of
the Miners take flight, bearing off the pupæ in their mouths, acting
in this respect like simple workers; but have never known them to take
any share in defence of their nest. The pillage and skirmishes are not
of long continuance; for in less than a quarter of an hour, we find
the Amazons on the road to their garrison. Notwithstanding the courage
and exasperated state of both parties, but a trifling number of ants
perish.[1]
[1] If, according to our author, but few ants perish on the field of
battle, I am inclined to think, that a considerable number die of the
wounds and injuries they receive, shortly after their return to the
nest.--T.
This scene, brilliant for its extent, was renewed as often as the
Amazons found the temperature friendly to their departure. The
purloined pupæ are soon developed: and not knowing their real family,
(like the Negro Ants in mixed ant-hills,) bestow all their care upon
the offspring of the Amazons.
Here then are two distinct species of auxiliary ants, in whose
form and character we trace no resemblance, affording a favourable
opportunity for solving the question, relative to the composition of
these ant-hills. If in compound Negro ant-hills, and in compound Miner
ant-hills, we find males and females _of but one species_, we must, of
course, conclude, they have no relation to the auxiliary ants, but only
to the Amazons; indeed those which I saw carried on several occasions
by the Mining workers, in their emigration from one nest to another, in
every respect resembled the little males and large females, met with in
mixed Negro ant-hills: and I have looked in vain for others in the same
habitation. I have even been present at the time of their leaving their
abode, and can affirm, notwithstanding researches the most assiduous,
attention the most unwearied, I never yet perceived any which were
not in every respect like those I have described. Their departure and
the circumstances attending it is by no means a point of indifference.
For several successive days they come to the surface of the nest,
surrounded by the Mining Ants, who form their escort, and take the
same care of them as the workers in simple ant-hills, of the males and
females of their own species. At length they quit the nest and commence
their aërial excursions.
On the 31st July, at half-past ten in the morning, I saw several little
black males issue from a compound Negro ant-hill, accompanied by a
considerable number of Negro Ant labourers. The number of males were
continually increasing; several Amazons on this occasion also left the
nest, and came among them, although it was to them an unaccustomed
hour; they approached the males and licked them after the manner of the
Negro Ants. At length the large females came forth from the citadel,
climbed the neighbouring plants, and in their turn received from the
Negro Ants and the Amazons, the same attention as the males. At eleven
o’clock the males became extremely restless, ran against and overturned
each other, beat the air with their wings, and finally finished their
gambols by taking flight. The females followed their example. More than
fifty females, and four times as many males, quitted the nest. I kept
guard for some time thinking they would return; but I never saw them
more.
The appearance of this ant-hill was both satisfactory and pleasing; the
contrast of females of a fine yellow colour, with little males entirely
black; of winged insects with neuters destitute of wings; and of Amazon
labourers, living in friendly union with such a number of Ash-coloured
Ants, presented a picture full of interest, notwithstanding the
trifling size of the objects that composed it.
In compound ant-hills I have now and then observed some very remarkable
individuals which may be seen delineated in Pl. 2. fig. 1. These are
Rufescent Ants, equalling, in size, females of the same species,
differing only in the form of their thorax, which is not enlarged,
and destined to bear wings; it resembles that of the labourers. These
individuals are, from their size, classed with females, but they do not
possess wings. I should have assigned them a place among the labourers,
had I ever seen them take part in their excursions.[2] Here then is
another example of those transitions we have remarked between the
females and labourers of some insects of the same genus. Among bees
there are several modifications of queens; there exist, also, among
humble bees fecund labourers of different degrees of size, resembling,
in almost every respect, females. This fact comes in support of those
already given, and must convince us, that females and labourers are
originally of the same order, and do not owe their form and real
character, but to the more or less complete developement of their
organs. I know not if the individuals, of which I have just spoken, are
capable of laying, nor can I state the purport of their creation; be
this as it may, they are extremely rare, and have no relation with the
Ash-coloured and Mining Ants, in mixed ant-hills, where we equally find
them.
[2] “It is remarkable,” says Gould, “of common yellow and
hill-settlements, (alluding to the nests of _F. flava_ and _F. rufa_,)
that you will find two sizes of workers in most of them, the larger
exceed the less about one part in three; but there is no apparent
difference as to contexture or other circumstances. They are mutually
interspersed all over the colony, and carry on the same offices of
labour and employment.” This observation of Gould is confirmed by
specimens in the cabinet of Mr. Kirby. This gentleman informs us, that
he saw them labouring in the colony, and that the large workers of _F.
rufa_ are nearly three times, and of _F. flava_ twice the size of the
small ones.--T.
Let us now return to the winged females. A little time after quitting
their natal abode, they lose their wings like the ants of other
species, traverse the ground, and seek a place of shelter. I could
have wished it were possible to follow them; for their history,
especially that part of it which relates to their new progeny, strongly
excited my curiosity. To ascertain how these several colonies exist on
their first formation, is a task of extreme difficulty: how, at this
period, can they associate themselves with auxiliary ants, not being in
sufficient force to make the necessary incursions to procure them? How,
under these circumstances, do they act or can they do without them?
Not being able to answer these questions, I shall adduce some proofs,
showing that the Amazons are more skilful in the domestic arts than
idlers, or those habituated to a life of ease.
Monsieur Latreille, more fortunate than myself, found one of these
newly formed ant-hills. After giving a description of the Rufescent
Ant, (of which we have been accustomed to speak under the name of
Legionary or Amazon Ant,) he observes, “This species is exceedingly
rare; I never observed it in society but once, and this society
consisted only of a few members. It runs remarkably quick, and makes
its nest, I believe, in the earth.” Had there been any association
with the auxiliary ants, this careful observer would doubtless have
noticed and been much struck with it.[3] I look upon it, therefore,
as an almost certain fact, that the Rufescent Ants, before they are
accustomed to the services of the Ash-coloured and Mining Ants, can put
in use faculties which lie dormant when they become associated with
these auxiliaries. It even happens they will sometimes assume their
office, that is, change parts with them: a fact of which I have been
once, and once only, a witness.
[3] Since this passage was written M. Latreille has frequently
witnessed these mixed societies, or the association in one common abode
of the Rufescent Ants with its auxiliaries, (the Ash-coloured and the
Mining Ant). He takes the opportunity of paying a high compliment to
our Author for this discovery.--T.
A compound ant-hill was established a short time since, on the terrace
of the house in which I resided. I carefully observed the excursions
of the Amazons, and one day remarked, they directed their route to a
deserted ant-hill: the ants who had previously occupied it, pillaged
doubtless too often by their so much dreaded neighbours, had taken
the precaution of decamping with arms and baggage. The Amazons, who
were perhaps badly lodged, profited by this circumstance. After having
visited it, they returned, took up in their mouths the Negro Ants of
the mixed ant-hill, and transported them to the new habitation. This
operation lasted some hours, and the emigration was completely effected
in this manner.
In this instance I saw the inverse of what I had hitherto observed, but
never experienced the gratification of witnessing a repetition. The
Amazons carried the Ash-coloured Ants as the latter usually carry them.
The whole colony being transferred to the new lodging, they there
rested, and each species again returned to their ordinary duties.
We see, from this example, that it is highly probable the Amazons know
more than they would seem to know; and if we have seen them perish
of hunger rather than take the trouble of providing for themselves,
we must attribute it to the custom of their receiving nourishment
immediately from the Ash-coloured Ants, and never going themselves in
search of it.
Those who live in small numbers with their maternal parent, not being
as yet accustomed to an idle life, do not, probably, confine themselves
to the sole occupation of war, but engage in domestic duties; for
during a certain period, the ant-hill is entirely composed of Amazons.
But when their number shall have given them confidence, they are then
seen to sally forth to procure the pupæ of the Ash-coloured and Mining
Ants; which, under their management, become auxiliaries and useful
companions. These are only conjectures, and perhaps very distant from
the truth. I know, however, of none more plausible to explain the
formation of new Amazon ant-hills.
As to the preservation of compound ant-hills, I believe it consists,
as in all other ant-hills, in reserving some pregnant females to keep
up the population. I have often seen in these habitations, and in
all seasons, females destitute of wings. I opened, in the middle of
April, some of these dwellings, where I found a considerable number of
eggs, agglutinated together, assiduously guarded by Negro Ants. I also
noticed some Amazon females, surrounded by the same guardians. They
inhabited the most elevated part of the building, and the eggs were
collected near them. In the month of June I first perceived the male
pupæ in their enveloping membrane; their larvæ being in the number of
those that spin: the female pupæ were rather later in appearing. They
were liberated from their envelope, by the Negro labourers, in the
same manner as the pupæ of Ash-coloured and Mining Ants, a little time
before their last transformation. It is only in the month of July they
pass into that state which puts them in a condition for flying. The
pupæ of the Amazon Labourers were at that time very numerous in all
their nests, but I no longer found there the pupæ of Ash-coloured and
Mining Ants. The pupæ which the Legionaries had purloined the preceding
year, were developed before autumn; their last invasions occurring
in September. These warrior ants have only two months and a half to
collect all the pupæ of which they stand in need. The temperature is
often sufficiently high in May and the beginning of June to allow of
their departure; they do not, however, venture abroad until their males
are on the point of undergoing their transformation: they sometimes
leave the nest individually, and are then always stopped by the
Negroes, who bring them back to the ant-hill. I know not from what
motive this conduct on the part of the auxiliaries arises; I have often
remarked it, and it is a certain fact, that the Legionaries never go to
pillage before that period. If they began earlier to purloin the larvæ
and pupæ belonging to the Negro Ants, they would make great booty; it
would, however, be in a great degree composed of the pupæ of males and
females, and these it seems, they are not permitted to seize. Nature,
aware of the serious inconveniencies that would arise from an attack
made at this time by the Amazons, particularly guards against it, by
producing the males and females of those ant-hills destined to pillage
at a much earlier period than the males and females of the martial
ants, and in not permitting the latter to be engaged in acts of rapine,
until the metamorphosis of the winged insects has taken place.
The Ash-coloured and Mining Ants, are to be considered then as the
negroes of the Amazons; it is from among them the latter procure
slaves; they kidnap them at an age when their instinct is not
developed; and these insects, on being brought up by the Amazons,
divide with them the fruit of their industry. Can we sufficiently
admire the prudence and wisdom these insects display in the
establishment of such an institution! We here trace neither servitude
nor oppression, nor do the ants themselves, taken from perhaps twenty
different dwellings, entertain the slightest suspicion of their being
in a foreign nest: they live under the same roof in brotherly and
sisterly union, and if they regard the Amazons, it is but to show
them greater attention. Nature, profound in her combinations, seems
fully aware that old ants would never live sociably with those of
another species, but that young ants may, especially if they have been
accustomed in early life to see and receive from them some attention.
She seems, also, aware, that no aversion is excited in the breasts of
those who witness their birth. It is in this way, she has instituted
mixed or compound ant-hills: it is on this account the Amazons in their
expeditions never carry off adult ants, only larvæ and pupæ; for the
same reason, they never seek the destruction of their enemies, their
only aim being to steal from them their little ones.
An important truth relative to the moral condition of these insects,
rests upon these facts--that their instinct is capable of receiving
several modifications. Ants, carried away in their youth, may become
familiar, and even live with an hostile species; it is in the first
period of their life those impressions are formed which they always
preserve. The very same objects that would naturally have excited their
hatred, now only inspire them with a sentiment of love.
CHAP. X.
ESTABLISHMENT OF A MIXED ANT-HILL IN A GLASS APPARATUS.
I had often established, with success, artificial ant-hills, and am
indebted to them for several interesting observations on the Fallow,
Yellow, and other ants. I now resolved upon making the attempt of
fixing, in an apparatus of the same kind, a colony of Amazon Ants, with
their auxiliaries. The knowledge I had already acquired upon mixed
ant-hills greatly facilitated my views. In describing the particulars
of this experiment, the manners of these two species will be completely
developed.
I constructed an apparatus, to which, for the sake of abridgement, I
shall, as formerly, give the name of _ruche_. It consisted of a double
vertical frame, twenty inches in length, by ten in depth, glazed on
both sides; the distance between the two frames was only ten lines. I
found this, however, too great, and, therefore, lessened it by placing
a sheet of tin, drilled in numerous places, parallel with the two
glasses. On the fore-part of the _ruche_ was a vertical portcullis,
which could be raised or lowered at will, thus answering as a door.
(This apparatus should not be raised upon feet, like those I have
before described, but should be so constructed as to rest immediately
upon the earth, by means of two very strong _liteaux_, inserted in
the bottom of the _ruche_, and projecting, on each side.) Two wooden
shutters excluded the light, and several holes, drilled in the upper
part of the apparatus, allowed of my presenting honey to the ants,
or pouring water into the interior, as often as it should be judged
necessary. It was in this _ruche_, of which we may see a figure in
Plate 1. that I thought of establishing a mixed ant-hill; and was
desirous the ants should settle there of their own accord. To render
them less sensible of the singularity of their abode, I filled the
lower half of this apparatus with fine and slightly moistened earth,
and deposited honey in several places.
These preparations being finished, I chose one of the most populous
mixed ant-hills, in which were many males and young Amazon females. I
removed a great part of this nest, placed it in a large linen bag, and
then carried it to my study.
I established between my prisoners, and the lodging they were to occupy
a free communication by means of a little canal of wood glazed on its
upper surface, having one of its extremities inserted into the bag,
and the other into the door of the _ruche_. This done, I left the ants
to themselves. On the following morning I saw some of the Ash-coloured
Ants leave the bag and enter the _ruche_ through the glazed canal. In
the evening more passed. The second day they commenced carrying each
other into the apparatus. Their number augmented hourly. At length the
canal scarcely sufficed for the crowd of insects going and returning;
it was obstructed by the recruits, and these were, for the most part,
engaged in transporting the Legionary Ants from the bag to the _ruche_.
Having this glazed conduit, I was not obliged to open the shutters
to see what was passing. The advantage of this arrangement was, that
of not alarming the ants, whilst it assured me of their forming an
establishment in the artificial ant-hill, preparing lodgings there, and
removing the useless materials, such as flints or pebbles, and pieces
of earth too dry to be put in work. I found from this, that it was
necessary to moisten the earth in the interior, and, therefore, poured
water through the holes in the upper part of the apparatus, which
completely answered (as will be presently seen) all my wishes.
By the fourth day, the whole of the ants appeared to know the road,
and had ceased to carry each other. But as I observed many re-enter
the bag, I was fearful they might take the whim of fixing themselves
there: I, therefore, obliged them to return into the _ruche_. With this
view, I separated the bag from the glazed canal, and scattered gently
all the earth it contained upon the floor near the artificial ant-hill.
I constructed all around a brick wall, and reduced between my fingers
the several clods; so that the ants could not conceal themselves. I
then re-fixed one end of the glazed canal to the door of the _ruche_,
placing the other end on the ground; forming an inclined plane, in
such a way that the ants could go out and find their companions
roving in the enclosure. The Ash-coloured Ants actually descended by
this passage, and immediately brought back into their new abode the
stragglers. They looked for them in every corner, visited the smallest
clod of earth, examined scrutinously the remains of their former nest,
and thence drew their companions of both species, taking them up in
their mouths and transporting them immediately to the _ruche_. This
operation finished, I went out to find the rest of the nest which I
had left in the field, and then dispersed it in my study; a few of
the Ash-coloured, or Negro Ants, in the _ruche_, perceiving fresh
arrivals wandering about the floor, came out, and carried them into
the new habitation. I was much astonished on seeing several ants leave
the apparatus at the same time, as if they had been told there were
many ants still to bring in. They immediately put themselves to work,
constantly arriving with their companions of both species suspended
by their mandibles, or setting off in file to seek those who still
remained unsheltered: whilst these were thus engaged, their companions
constructed galleries in the heap of earth I had brought in, and
disengaged a great number of labourers, larvæ, and pupæ, which were
there imprisoned. They worked with indefatigable activity. I was struck
by their zeal. They brought to my recollection those famous dogs, who
appear associated in charity with their masters, for the purpose of
extricating from underneath the snow of the Alps engulphed travellers.
The Legionary Ants took no active part in this interesting scene: the
Negro Ants were particularly careful of them, often conducting them
into the interior of the nest, but sometimes contenting themselves with
laying them down at the entrance of the glazed canal, going immediately
in search of others. The Rufescent Ant, in this case, remained, for
a moment, curled up, without movement; it then unrolled itself, and
looked around, on all sides, without knowing where it was, or what
direction it should take. I saw it, then, approach the Ash-coloured
Ants, and implore their assistance, by the aid of its antennæ, until
one that had little to do, seized and carried it into the nest.
In eight days the _ruche_ was completely peopled, and I was in hopes
I had acquired a sure means of observing what passed in the interior
of these singular republics. I hastened, then, to submit it to the
proof. For this purpose, I carried out my _ruche_, and placed it upon
the grass, allowing its inhabitants the full liberty of leaving it. I
confess this was not done without some degree of apprehension; for I
might thus lose, in one moment, the fruit of all my care; but I was
encouraged by the hope that the Ash-coloured Ants attached to their
work, would not abandon it so readily.
The first day, the Negro Ants, availing themselves of their liberty,
visited the environs of their abode. They returned, just as I could
wish. Some individual Amazons, also, went out, but were quickly brought
back by their auxiliaries. On the day following, the Ash-coloured Ants
guarded their door very assiduously; they heaped up many pieces of
stone, &c. to narrow it, and thus oppose the entrance of certain ants
attracted thither by the odour of the honey. They went, also, in search
of the _pucerons_.
In the evening, the air being extremely warm, and the sun shining
upon the ant-hill, I saw the Amazons prepare for an expedition. The
whole army descended by means of the glazed canal. The signal being
given, they set forward in an entire body, and fell upon a nest of
Ash-coloured Ants, situated a few paces from the _ruche_. The Amazons
returned with the success usually attending these incursions. Each
disposed of his load at the door of the artificial ant-hill, into
which the Ash-coloured Ants immediately introduced it. The warlike
ants returned directly to carry off the rest of the larvæ; and, as it
was only a trifling distance to the scene of pillage an uninterrupted
chain of Amazons was established; some going to seek the pupæ, whilst
others were bearing them away. At length they re-entered their own
habitation, but came out in a quarter of an hour, and made their last
attack upon the ant-hill, purloining, this time but a very few larvæ,
and retiring tranquilly to the _ruche_.
I was greatly pleased on seeing the Amazons return to the artificial
ant-hill, and confide their booty to their auxiliaries. This was a
flattering omen for the success of my experiment, and from this period
I indulged the hope of seeing the manners and habits of these insects
fully developed. That I might not alarm them by the introduction of
a strong light before they had fully established themselves in the
_ruche_, the shutters were kept, for some time, completely closed.
I was, however, extremely impatient to witness the interior, and it
was now time to ascertain the extent of their labours, and observe
the immediate consequences attending the capture of the pupæ. When
I opened the shutters, I was agreeably surprised in viewing, at one
glance, the whole of the interior of the ant-hill. The ants had mined
the entire mass of earth. The glass, on one side, and the sheet of
tin on the other, served as walls to the several chambers they had
excavated. All their passages, their halls, even to the smallest
apartments, were distinctly visible. They constituted irregular
stories, some larger than others, the former were of greater elevation,
the latter more elongated or narrowed. It was evident the ants had
_mined_, and not _masoned_, or worked up the earth: what they had drawn
from the interior, was heaped up upon the last ceiling or roof. The
walls were rendered so compact and solid as to run little risk of being
thrown down by the weight of the materials they supported.
Here the pupæ and larvæ were collected in the large chambers. There
the Amazon army was stationed. In another place, the main body
of auxiliaries were assembled. I had scarcely time to make these
observations, the ants being much alarmed by the sudden introduction
of the light. The Amazons left their garrison, and ran over the glass,
but re-assembled, in a short time, in the most elevated part of the
building, and formed themselves in groups close to the vault or roof.
The Negro Ants, at the same moment, seized the larvæ and pupæ, carried
them to the darkest places, passed through the holes in the sheet
of tin, and reached the side opposite to that where I was taking my
observations, the shutter of which had not been opened. By degrees, I
was enabled so to manage the light that it should no longer alarm these
insects, or at least so triflingly, that tranquillity might be speedily
restored. I could thus follow them in their operations (which was
absolutely necessary) at my ease.
The Amazons always grouped on or affixed to the ceiling of their
underground chambers[1], did not quit their position, but to
approach the Ash-coloured Ants, whose assistance was a point of vital
importance. I saw none of them approach the larvæ or pupæ, or touch
the provisions I had placed within reach; nor did meat and honey ever
tempt them. I witnessed, in its fullest extent, the great care with
which the auxiliaries treated them; the latter were constantly occupied
in nourishing and brushing them; carrying them from one quarter of the
ant-hill to another; conducting them where the temperature was highest,
reassembling them with their companions, &c. I also observed a large
body of the auxiliaries surrounding a Rufescent female without wings,
for whom they expressed great solicitude; the rest of the males and
females were on the outside of the ant-hill, attended by a numerous
_cortége_ of Ash-coloured Ants, and by some Amazons; they soon took
flight and were never seen to return.
[1] The ceiling or roof of the chambers in which these insects are
lodged, appears to constitute their favourite residence. This I found
to be the case with some female ants I kept in confinement. It is
highly probable this position against gravity is maintained by means of
an apparatus similar to what Sir Everard Home has observed in regard
to the house-fly, of which he has given a full description, in the
_Philosophical Transactions_, for 1816. It is, no doubt, upon this
principle, that ants are enabled to walk perpendicularly up walls,
bearing in their pincers insects (of which we have many instances)
considerably larger and heavier than themselves.--T.
Every day the Legionaries made fresh incursions on the neighbouring
ant-hills, and thus considerably increased the number of their pupæ:
but when once placed within the _ruche_ they were no longer the objects
of their attention. It was now the business of the auxiliaries to
attend and convey them to the different chambers, which is regulated
by the hour of the day and direction of the sun. Some of the pupæ were
still enveloped in their cocoon; others had been extricated from them:
the Negro Ants often came, notwithstanding my presence, to liberate
them from their imprisonment. The cocoon of the Amazon pupæ, consisted
of a browner silk than that of the Ash-coloured pupæ, and was also
one third longer; but their number did not equal those of the pupæ of
the other cast. The larvæ of both species were placed in different
apartments, for they had, without doubt, wants relative to their age;
but the Ash-coloured Ants alone took care of and nourished them, &c.
I once, however, saw an Amazon engaged in removing the last pellicle
from one of the Ash-coloured pupæ; the Amazon took it up with the same
delicacy as other ants, and the labourer, the object of its care,
evinced no symptom of fear on its being so close to this warrior, who
did it no injury, and left it as soon as it was liberated. This affords
another instance, that the Amazons are not absolutely unqualified for
labour.
The _ruche_ exhibited a greater population every day, and a
considerable number of Ash-coloured Ants was developed there: these
I recognised by their grey colour. I also saw young Amazon Ants,
which were a little paler in colour than the old of the same species;
both received every attention from the auxiliaries. Tranquillity and
unanimity reigned in this mixed colony. The ants appeared perfectly
happy in their abode, yet thought, however, of quitting it. The
Ash-coloured species, wearied perhaps by the frequent opening and
closing of the shutters, began to emigrate, and formed a little cavity
in the turf, a few paces from the _ruche_. I deranged their operations
and suspended their emigrations, by placing the _ruche_ in another
situation; but some days after they discovered another dwelling, and
recommenced their recruiting, when I took the precaution of closing
the door, and bringing the artificial ant-hill back to my study. I
there kept it a considerable time, and the confirmation was greater,
from day to day, of what I had hitherto acquired. When the weather
was favourable, (between the hours of three and five), I took it out
and placed it on the grass, and always observed the Legionaries pay a
visit to the neighbouring ant-hills. At length, expecting no further
information, I resolved upon trying an experiment I had frequently
meditated, and as often dismissed, on account of my close attachment
to my prisoners: this was to bring into immediate combat two Legionary
armies.
With this view I waited till I saw the Amazon Ants, inhabiting another
mixed ant-hill, which was situated in the garden, quit it; when I
hastened to place my artificial ant-hill full in front of their
advancing column. After a trifling combat, which took place at the
door of the _ruche_, those in the interior went out in force, when
the enemy’s column appeared desirous to avoid battle, taking at first
another direction, then returning and re-entering their nest. Several
ants from the _ruche_ put themselves in pursuit: some went even as
far as the enemy’s garrison, where they were retained; two or three
only escaped, and these I observed returned in great haste. The entire
army now left the _ruche_, and proceeded to the mixed ant-hill; I
looked forward to a general battle, but when the column had arrived to
within a few paces of the entrance, it fell back, with the exception
of a small body, composed of about three hundred Legionary Ants, who
continued their route, until they reached the ant-hill. The Amazons
assembled on the surface appeared extremely agitated, as if they had
foreseen the attack with which they were threatened. The combatants
fought body to body; but the strangers threw themselves into a gallery
with so much impetuosity, that the others could not restrain them. This
courageous incursion did not succeed; they all perished, not however,
without making great havoc; for when I saw the Amazons of the natural
ant-hill resume their expeditions, I found their army reduced to one
half its original number. The _ruche_ had not suffered so great a
diminution. I replaced it upon the grass, and allowed the Ash-coloured
Ants the liberty of emigrating, which they did, in the manner we have
already described.
CHAP. XI.
HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE SANGUINE ANTS.
The Sanguine Ants present us compound ant-hills of a different kind.
From their analogy to the Legionary Ants, they will be found to
corroborate the preceding facts, and will still elucidate this subject,
by the contrast of their conduct with that of the Legionaries, who pass
from a state of combat to a state of ease.
They owe the name they bear to the colour of the head and thorax: the
abdomen is ash-coloured and slightly bronzed; the feet of a blood-red.
These ants are larger than the Legionaries, whom they resemble only in
manners. In the general form of the body they have a greater similarity
to Fallow Ants, than to those of any other species.
If I attribute the discovery of the Amazons entirely to chance, I owe
the knowledge I have acquired of the manners and customs of the species
now under consideration to observation alone.
In examining, one day, the interior of their nest, with the view
of observing its arrangement, I noticed Ash-coloured mingled with
the Sanguine Ants; they were, however, much less numerous than in
Legionary ant-hills. The same intimacy appeared to exist between them
and the Sanguine Ants, as between the auxiliaries and Amazons in mixed
colonies. There is no difficulty in verifying this remark, since these
ant-hills are more common than those of the Legionaries; they are also
more within view, the Sanguine Ants coming to the surface of their
nest more frequently than the mason ants of any other species. These
habitations are, for the most part, situated near hedges which have a
southern aspect. The earth of which they are composed, is mixed up with
fragments of leaves, stalks of plants, moss, and little stones, which
form a species of mortar difficult to break. This composition of the
ant-hill, and its varied form, would have soon convinced me it was not
the sole work of the Ash-coloured or Negro Ants, even had I not seen
the Sanguine Ants, like them, occupied in going out during the rain,
and profiting by it, in giving greater extent and elevation to their
abode.
The Sanguine then take a share in the labours of the Negro Ant; they go
out also, at times, in search of _pucerons_, but this duty principally
devolves upon the auxiliaries; and upon them also the office rests, on
their leaving the ant-hill in the morning, of re-opening the several
doors that lead to it; for in this species, particular care is taken
to close every evening, all the avenues, by blocking them up with
whatever materials they find proper for the purpose.
One of the ordinary occupations of the Sanguine Ants, is the going in
chase of certain little ants, which constitute their food. They never
go out alone; they assemble in little troops, lie in ambuscade near
the ant-hill, wait until some unwary inhabitant quits it, and then
dart forth and secure their prey. The insects they meet on their road
experience a similar fate, whenever they fall in their power.
In the Sanguine, as in other mixed ant-hills, we find neither males nor
females belonging to the auxiliaries. The females of the Sanguine tribe
are conspicuous for their varied colour; they have the head and thorax
of a brilliant red, inclining to scarlet; the abdomen brown, the feet
of a dark red. The males are black, with the exception of their feet,
which are yellow; they closely resemble the males of the Ash-coloured
Ants, but have a larger body; they leave their habitation at the same
time as the females, accompanied, like those of the Legionary Ants,
by a double _cortége_. There are so many points in which these ants
agree, that I was led to suspect they procure the Negro Ants, much in
the same way as the Legionaries. I watched their movements from day to
day, and was, at length, a witness to several of their expeditions,
which differ, in many respects, from those described in the preceding
chapter. The following will convey a just idea of their tactics.
On the 15th July, at ten in the morning, a small division of the
Sanguine Ants was dispatched from the garrison, and arrived in quick
march, near a nest of Negro Ants, situated twenty paces distant, around
which they took their station. The inhabitants, on perceiving these
strangers, rushed forth in a body to attack them, and led back several
prisoners. The Sanguine Ants made no further advance; they appeared to
be waiting for some reinforcement. From time to time, little companies
of these insects came from the garrison to strengthen the brigade.
They now advanced a little nearer, and seemed more willing to run the
risk of a general engagement; but in proportion as they approached the
Negro dwelling, the more solicitous did they seem to dispatch couriers
to the garrison, who arriving in great haste produced considerable
alarm, when another division was immediately appointed to join the
army. The Sanguine Ants, although thus reinforced, evinced little or no
eagerness for combat, and only alarmed the Ash-coloured Ants by their
presence. The latter took up a position in front of their nest of about
two feet square, where nearly their whole force was assembled to await
the enemy.
Frequent skirmishes take place all around the camp, the besieged always
attacking the besiegers. The Negro Ants, judging from their number,
announce a vigorous resistance; but distrusting their own strength,
they look to the safety of the little ones confided to their care, and
in this respect show us one of the most singular traits of prudence
of which the history of insects can furnish an example. Even long
before success is in any way dubious, they bring the pupæ from the
subterranean chambers, and heap them up on the side of their nest,
opposed to that where the Sanguine army is stationed, in order to carry
them off with the greater readiness should the fate of arms be against
them. Their young females escape on the same side. The danger becomes
more imminent; the Sanguine Ants, sufficiently reinforced, throw
themselves in the midst of the Negroes, attack them on all points,
and arrive to the very gates of their city. The latter, after a brisk
resistance, renounce its defence, seize upon the pupæ deposited on the
outside, and convey them to a place of safety.[1] The Sanguine Ants
pursue, and endeavour to steal from them their treasure. The whole body
of Negro Ants are in flight; some few pass through the enemy’s rank,
and at the hazard of their lives, enter once more their habitation,
and expeditiously carry off the larvæ, that would otherwise remain
devoted to pillage. The Sanguine Ants descend into the interior, take
possession of the avenues, and appear to establish themselves in the
devastated city. Little bands of troops continually pour in from the
garrison, and begin taking away the remainder of the larvæ and pupæ,
establishing an uninterrupted chain from one ant-hill to the other:
thus the day passes and night comes on, before they have transported
all their booty. A considerable number of Sanguine Ants still remain
in the Negro residence, and on the following morning, at break of day,
recommence the transfer of the rest of its contents. When they have
taken away all the pupæ and larvæ, they then carry each other to the
garrison, a few only remaining behind.
[1] Is it not surprising that the Ash-coloured, when attacked by
the Sanguine Ant, should follow a different line of conduct to what
they pursue, when they have any engagement with the Legionaries. The
impetuosity of the latter allows them no time for defence. The tactics
of those besieging being different, those of the besieged will always
be so. But can we form any idea how Nature has taught them to take
precautions proportionate to the danger?--A.
But I perceive some ants moving in a different direction; their number
increases; a new resolution has doubtless been taken by these truly
warlike insects; a considerable recruiting takes place on the compound
ant-hill, in favour of the pillaged city: and in this they at length
establish their residence. Every thing is transported thither with the
greatest promptitude; pupæ and larvæ, males and females, auxiliaries
and Amazons; indeed, every thing the garrison contains, is removed to
the habitation acquired by conquest; and the Sanguine Ants renounce for
ever their natal abode. They establish themselves on the spot, and in
place of the Negro Ants, and from thence undertake new incursions.
I was a witness to several such scenes, but shall content myself with
describing one only. I established a Sanguine compound ant-hill in a
glazed apparatus, such as that described in the preceding chapter. This
I one day placed at a little distance from a Negro dwelling, which
soon became the object of a regular siege. After the Sanguine Ants had
driven away its inhabitants, and conveyed to their glazed habitation or
_ruche_, a part of the pupæ, they came to a sudden decision of changing
their domicile, and in a few hours removed the whole of its contents,
and established themselves with their auxiliaries in the enemy’s
habitation. They do not, however, change their abode on each invasion
of a Negro ant-hill; but it is of rare occurrence if they quit not in
the course of the year the one they occupy.
One of the principal features of the wars levied upon Ash-coloured
Ants, seems to consist in exciting fear; and so effectual does this
prove, that the Negro Ants on no occasion return to their besieged
capital, even when the oppressors have retired to their own garrison;
they, perhaps, well know they could never remain long in safety, and
would be continually liable to the attacks of their unwelcome visitors.
This new species of Amazon, almost invariably follows the same route;
hence, it happens, that on the least signal, they know what direction
they are to take. They sometimes go a hundred and fifty paces distance,
in search of a Negro habitation, and their attacks are always made
by small divisions; which, as before stated, succeed and assist each
other by means of couriers, evidently sent off for that purpose to the
garrison.
The invasions of the Sanguine Ants, although so destructive to the
peace of their enemies, are yet, happily, less frequent than those of
the Legionaries. They pillage only five or six ant-hills in the course
of a summer; and the time appropriated to this object, is much more
limited; for they must, in the period of one month, bring in all the
pupæ they may want. The Sanguine Ants, endowed with a considerable
share of activity, are content with a much less number of slaves or
domestics than the Rufescent Ants. The pupæ, purloined by the Sanguine
Ants, are developed some time in August: and at that period we find
in their nest a greater number of auxiliaries. The Sanguine Ants
could scarcely do without them; occupied continually in the chase,
and now and then called upon to go forth in an entire body, to the
assistance of their compatriots, they would be obliged to leave their
little slaves at home unattended; moreover, the Negro Ants are better
qualified than they to take care of the larvæ; to them, therefore, is
entrusted this important duty.
When the Sanguine Ants change their domicile, they take especial care
to convey with them their auxiliaries; for whom, when their dwelling
is attacked by other ants, they evince the strongest affection. I
have seen the Sanguine, when besieged by the Fallow Ants, carry off,
in haste, to the subterranean apartments their auxiliaries; when
the latter, on being left, seemed to fulfil the intention of their
protectors, by closing and barricading with care all the avenues,
making use of such materials as were immediately within reach.
I shall now give an instance of their prudence and foresight, upon
which I slightly touched in the chapter on war. In case of disaster,
they always take care to provide a retreat, and whilst one party is
engaged in defending the colony, another party bear away the Negro Ants
or auxiliaries, who immediately begin constructing a new dwelling, at a
considerable distance from the scene of combat.
We have noticed, among Rufescent Ants, two species of
auxiliaries--Ash-coloured and Mining Ants. The latter are also highly
useful to the Sanguine Ants, who attack their habitations in the same
way, and much under the same circumstances as the nests inhabited by
Negro Ants. But what is highly worthy of remark is, that there should
exist ant-hills composed of three different species of ants--the
Sanguine, the Ash-coloured, and the Mining Ant. This has been fully
confirmed by my having observed an army of Sanguine Ants form into
two divisions, when the one attacked a Mining and the other a Negro
ant-hill.
I shall now bring these observations to a close by stating a fact,
which fully demonstrates the influence of habit upon the natural
disposition of ants. I placed, in a box, a few pupæ of the Sanguine
and Rufescent Ant, under the guard of some Ash-coloured labourers.
These pupæ became adult ants, and although Amazons, lived together in
great amity under the same roof, thus corroborating the facts formerly
mentioned.
The history of Amazon Ants and their auxiliaries still proves, that if
education can efface the hatred existing between different species,
and consequently enemies, it effects no change in their instinct and
character, since the Amazons and their slaves, brought up with the same
care, and under the management of the same nurses, live in the mixed
ant-hill under very different laws.
My readers are, perhaps, inclined to believe, that I have been led
aside by a love of the marvellous, and that, to give more interest to
my narrative, I have added something, by way of embellishment, to the
facts I have observed. But the more I am attracted by the wonderful
display of nature, the less am I inclined to alter it by any _mélange_
of the imagination.
I have endeavoured to cast aside every illusion, prejudice, or
ambition of saying any thing new, prepossessions in favour of cursory
observations, love of systems, &c. holding to that disposition, which I
may term neutral; ready to admit every fact of whatever nature it be,
provided it be confirmed by close observation.
If the facts adduced afford ample proof that ants are endowed with
higher faculties than we have hitherto granted them, we must attribute
it to the subject itself; hence the necessity under which I have
laboured, of employing many terms and comparisons, that, on a first
glance, appear rather bold, although founded on the close connection
between the human race and the insect living in society.
Among those I have taken to witness the discovery of mixed or compound
ant-hills, I may mention the learned professor Jurine.[2] This
gentleman had the kindness to identify their existence, by examining,
separately their contents.
[2] This celebrated naturalist, who resided at Geneva, has within these
few weeks breathed his last. His writings, together with his splendid
cabinet of insects, furnish ample proof of his talents and industry.--T.
To this honourable testimony I shall add but one more--Nature herself!
who is ready to answer every doubt, every objection; it is easy to
interrogate her: I have put my reader in the way, by describing my
means of observation, and I dare assure naturalists, who will deliver
themselves over to this study, they will meet a full recompense for the
trouble and time they devote to it by the inexhaustible pleasure of
discovering new truths.
CHAP. XII.
OBSERVATIONS ON THOSE INSECTS THAT LIVE IN REPUBLICS.
Although we have yet much to learn respecting the manners and habits
of insects; we may still, I think, from the observations which have
been brought together, attempt their distribution according to the
developement of their instinct, so as to be enabled to rectify
mistakes, when subsequent discoveries shall have adduced fresh
information.
This classification does not exactly answer to the chain in which
Bonnet has ranged all living beings, by tracing resemblances between
their organization: still less does it correspond with those
systematic divisions, established by distinguished naturalists; it,
however, serves to show us the true plan of nature, in proving, that
she is not always subject to that material order which strikes our
senses; that she has varied _ad infinitum_ her combinations; and that
there are general rules founded upon moral characters, divisions and
subdivisions in the intellectual, as well as in the physical part of
creation, which, I hope, one day, fully to demonstrate. I shall detach
from this plan only a few opinions, having reference to those insects
which live in society; they form a separate class, of which we have not
yet well ascertained the nature and the relation. Pre-eminence, if such
exists between these republics, cannot be determined, until we have
compared with much care and attention, the spirit, labours, character,
and laws of each.
To assign as nearly as possible, the place they occupy in the class
of insects, let us set aside those animals, whose size, strength,
usefulness, and even ferocity, impose upon our judgment; let us suppose
for a moment, that man himself did not exist, and let us see what
part these different colonies would then act upon this globe, (whose
members are associated for one common interest,) in the midst of that
crowd of isolated beings, which display only a limited instinct, having
habitudes rather than manners, subjected to rules rather than laws, and
unconscious of either country or family.
In the first rank would appear those societies of industrious flies,
which are established in hollow trees, and in the crevices of our
rocks: they feed upon the nectar of flowers, and secrete honey and wax;
they never employ their arms but to defend their country, the treasures
they have accumulated, and the young they are rearing; the outside of
their habitation presents nothing grand or imposing, but the interior
is formed upon a regular plan, uniting elegant proportions with the
most rigid œconomy.
That family whose colouring is more brilliant, lives by carnage and
rapine: its empire extends over every insect it can pierce with its
sting, and every kind of fruit that its teeth enable it to penetrate;
its dwelling, like to a balloon, is sometimes suspended in the air,
from the branches of a tree; at another time, resembles a fortress, of
which nothing indicates the existence without, hidden in the earth, and
tenanted by a highly dreaded race.
At length come those colonies which cover the surface of the earth,
and whose republics are so numerous, that the globe would not suffice
them, had not Nature set just limits to their production. A multitude
of insects become their prey. The small size of the individuals is
compensated by their number; but force is not their principal reliance.
Neither the flowers nor fruits furnish them with their ordinary food;
this is the object of a taste more refined. The colonies of which we
are now speaking, go and collect it from certain pacific beings, which
live in societies, and bestow upon them, unconstrained, the juices
they extract from plants. These colonies possess the art of making
themselves understood, of assembling these insects in their habitation,
and of defending them against the attacks of their enemies.
Those insects which live in republics, yield doubtless to many others
in size, strength, and swiftness. Nature, in a lower degree, produces
its monsters: the spider, dung-chafer, rove-beetle, scorpion, like
so many ferocious beasts, retired to their covert, await the passage
of flies, worms, butterflies, caterpillars, which they attack and
destroy, experiencing no kind of resistance. Our astonishment is again
excited at the gigantic proportions of those dung and stag-beetles,
whose peaceable dispositions strongly contrast with the arms with
which they are provided. Here the diversity of the production arrests
our attention; this insect lives in corrupted matter, that insect
dwells on the body of another animal; these have but an ephemeral
existence, those pass their life in idleness, flitting by thousands
from flower to flower, without being conscious either of an habitation
or a single relation. Shall we compare to insects, organised in a
republic, those processionary caterpillars, whose sole talent consists
in their knowing how to spin, in common, a web, in which they undergo
their transformation, and in their leaving behind them in their march,
threads which serve to guide their companions, or those swarms of
crane-flies, collected in the air, by the sole attraction of the sexes,
or those myriads of ephemeræ, which have but one day, one hour, to quit
the waters, congregate, and die? Or shall we place in the same rank
those clouds of locusts, without laws, without police, whose assembling
appears to have no other object than the devastation of the countries
they traverse, and those regular societies that know how to establish
a common abode, adapted to the rearing of their young, and their own
safety? If these wandering insects inspire us with any interest, it
cannot be by placing at their side objects, whose comparison would be
disadvantageous to them; let us, therefore, return to the parallel
of those, whose manners and habits announce a certain degree of
civilization.
Can we sufficiently admire the skill the bee displays in the
distribution of that ductile substance, with which it constructs its
combs, in forming that double rank of hexagonal cells with pyramidal
bottoms, (the base of which serves as a partition for three other
cells,) those parallel streets, and those magazines, which it fills
with provision for the winter, &c.? This is the insect which amasses
real provision, inclosing it and guarding it with care.[1]
[1] We have, at all times, admired the structure of the combs of bees:
the angles of the cells have been measured by skilful geometricians;
but we are yet ignorant of the manner in which these industrious
insects construct them. My father, after assiduous researches, has at
length discovered the secret of their architecture, and will, ere long,
present to the public a very extensive memoir upon this subject.--A.
I need scarcely add, that this memoir has been since published,
and contains much interesting information on the subject; indeed,
it is very generally known in this country, and merits the highest
commendation.--T.
The wasp, by a particular art, is enabled to avail itself of the oldest
and driest wood, in the formation of a substance similar to the finest
pasteboard, with which it fabricates its nest: the cells which it
constructs, are placed horizontally, suspended from each other: less
skilful than the bee in measuring the angles of these cells, it does
not form them in double rank, although the substance it employs is of
much less value. It envelopes these cells in a common covering, which
it can enlarge commensurate with its wants. By means of a juice or
liquid, that proceeds from its mouth, it is enabled to unite and glue
together the several particles of which its habitation is composed.
The nests of humble-bees present different appearances: here, we find
these insects dwelling under a roof of moss; there, under a vault of
wax. Their provisions are not collected to any extent, and are so
exposed, that any may go and obtain refreshment when they like; but
what is singular, the cells which contain their honey, have not been
fabricated expressly for this purpose; the webs which they spin, in the
first state of their existence, serves for this new use, and the coarse
wax they elaborate, is employed in narrowing or lengthening these
reservoirs, in constructing new cells for their young, and in forming
an envelope which preserves the nest from humidity.
Let us now approach that hillock of straw, which we observe in the
midst of the forest; under that inclined roof, a numerous republic
finds an asylum against the injuries of the air. By a well-regulated
police, the gates are closed during the night, and guarded through the
day; several avenues lead to the bottom of this subterraneous city; it
is found to contain numerous stories, both above and underneath the
surface of the ground, and is so constructed that the water can never
gain admittance.
Farther off, I observe a crowd of masons (ants) occupied in raising a
building of immense size for insects so diminutive; they neither employ
in its construction, like the bee, a valuable material which they have
themselves formed, nor a light and thin substance resembling the finest
pasteboard, such as that the wasp uses in the formation of its nest;
its mortar is already prepared, the earth, rain-water, and the benefit
of the sun, is all that is required in their masonry. The foundations
of a new story are laid, walls are raised, ceilings are constructed,
and their abode is arranged, with a view rather to convenience than
regularity.
Here I observe, proceed from the trunk of a tree, a file of ants; they
have hewn out in the solid wood vast chambers, a multitude of lodges
and stories, corridors and colonnades, to which the air has free access.
On removing to another country, I observe a certain species of ant,
availing itself of the down of a cotton-plant to shelter, more warmly
and commodiously, the little ones confided to its care. No insect,
indeed, presents such a variety in their dwellings; a particular talent
seems to be displayed in the labours of each, indicating to them the
nature and use of the several substances within reach.
Let us pass from their architecture to the cares they bestow upon the
rising generation. What a contrast is there not afforded between the
social insects, and those that lead a solitary existence; the latter
are, for the most part, unacquainted with their family; they provide
for their necessities, establish their dwelling, but very few will
see the egg to which they give birth. This affixes its eggs around a
branch; that trusts them to a fragile leaf; another abandons them
to the current of the waters: some place them in the sand, like the
ostrich, leaving them to be brought to perfection by the heat of the
sun; others, the isolated mothers, prepare themselves (before laying)
the food for the larvæ which will proceed from their eggs; some,
furnished with an instrument for this purpose, deposit them in the body
of a living fly, in the larvæ of other insects, or in the skin itself
of the larger animals; others, by means of a double saw, lodge them
in the bark of trees. These form subterraneous caverns, in which they
arrange caterpillars near their offspring, who, on quitting the egg,
find the food they require; others form a chamber in the earth, which
they adorn with rose and poppy-leaves: they prepare for the nourishment
of their young a paste, composed of honey and the pollen of plants;
they deposit their eggs; their task is finished; they die.
The greater number of solitary insects, guided by a blind instinct,
assure themselves of the existence of the succeeding generation,
but they do not live sufficiently long to see the developement of
their young; we cannot, therefore, refer their conduct to motives of
affection.
Those insects which live in society are devoted to the care of their
family; there reigns between them an intimate bond of union, from
which result relations that cannot exist among the former. What an
interesting scene is there not offered to us on viewing this hive of
bees, that nest of humble-bees, those wasps, and, particularly, these
ants. I see the humble-bee prepare a cell for its young, which it
partly fills with the food necessary for their preservation, under a
fear, perhaps, of not being able, alone, to satisfy their wants: if
their provisions are exhausted, the mother nourishes them herself; she
visits the flowers, and then returns to her nest, bestowing upon the
larvæ which are disclosed the most assiduous attention: she enlarges
their cell, and watches over their safety, until they become themselves
real workers, capable of assisting her in taking care of those to whom
she is about to give birth. A society is established between the mother
and her young: each day the circle of her relations is extended, and
the union is rendered more perfect.
Among bees, properly so called, an innumerable crowd of workers are
produced from a single mother. If, however, maternal feelings and the
delights of love are denied them, they do not the less evince their
affection and solicitude for the young of their common mother; they
nourish them, and defend them with a zeal and disinterestedness truly
praiseworthy.
The ants carry still further this devotedness for their charge: they
take care of and nurture them, even in the state of eggs, and give them
_mouth-provision_ in that of larvæ: when the latter are become pupæ,
they procure for them an agreeable temperature, and when they are
ready to undergo their transformation, these are the common parents,
who extricate them from their cocoons, taking care of them until they
are in a condition to fly, or discharge the duties to which they are
respectively called.
In consequence of these attentions to them in their infancy, there
arises a reciprocal affection between these insects. Hence the nature
of the society which we observe among them. Thus what principally
distinguishes them from those insects which live in solitude, is the
attention they bestow upon the education of their young.
But what a prodigy is that in nature, of being able to receive
advantage from sterility itself, to ensure the preservation of the
species; of inspiring the labourers with unbounded affection for the
offspring of another mother, and confiding to them the charge of their
education. The mother, too fecund to rear, unassisted, all her young,
finds in her society, a number of assistants, who take upon themselves
the several labours: these are endowed with the highest degree of
industry, activity, zeal, and courage: fecundity alone is denied them.
In what rests the secret of this organisation, incomplete as to sex,
perfect as to industry? Admirable combination of an incomprehensible
nature! It has been fully proved, that bees can, in time of need, elect
a queen from among the youngest larvæ; that the education, nourishment,
and size of the cell destined for her, give rise to her being endowed
with amazing fecundity, devoted to a state of repose, and receiving
the homages of a numerous republic. Had it, however, been reared, like
the other larvæ, it would have participated in the labours and dangers
which fall to the lot of the workers. Can we conceive how means so
simple should produce such powerful effects?
From such an institution arise those intimate and mutual relations,
those assiduities which the education of the young requires, that
assemblage of labours, that love for the country, that language, &c. we
so much admire in these colonies. Every where else, each female lives
separately. The only relations between solitary insects are occasioned
by difference of sex; but, regarding those who live in society, we
observe, a family more or less numerous, more or less powerful; all the
members of which, of whatever order they be, understand each other,
and yield mutual assistance; living, in common, upon the provision the
workers bring in. This constitution is one of the wonders of nature;
thus has she been pleased to establish several kinds of republics upon
the same principle.
Among bees and ants, a multitude of workers are born each year; but
in these republics there are but a small number of females. Let us
now attend to those astonishing circumstances with which their
impregnation is accompanied.
The mystery of the fecundation of the queen bee, has, from time
immemorial, excited the attention of naturalists; it has, therefore,
been the subject of the most profound researches; their respective
authors passing from error to error, from conjecture to conjecture,
came to doubt of the queen’s having sexual intercourse with the male.
It was reserved for a mind eminently endowed with all those qualities
which constitute the philosopher and naturalist, that penetration, that
logic, that extension of thought, so uncommon, of interrogating nature
by the organ of another[2], of, at length, decyphering those lines of
the great book, which contain the surprising phenomenon, of which bees
offer the only example.
[2] I rather think the author here alludes to the distressing state
of his father, who has, for many years, laboured under the greatest
of bodily privations--loss of sight. His ardour in the investigation
of his favourite subject, suffered no diminution. A faithful domestic
attended, and gave him information of what was passing in the interior
of his glass-hives.--T.
At this period we observe a vast number of males in the hives; they
quit them in a large body, and disperse. The young queen alone, without
followers, leaves her abode, goes forth to be impregnated in the air,
and returns to her numerous family, bringing back not only titles to
the consideration of her subjects, but the indisputable proof, that
the favoured male has lost his life in performing this last duty. A
thousand curious circumstances attend this brilliant discovery.
Shall we at present speak of the combat of the queens; of their
imprisonment; of the expulsion of the supernumeraries? Let us rather
leave to the reader the pleasure of learning these astonishing
truths in the original, and let us see what passes, under the same
circumstances, with ants. In this instance, the males and females are
distinguished from the unprolific race, by the faculty of flying. When
the day of their departure arrives, they quit the nest in a crowd,
accompanied by a numerous retinue of workers, who cannot follow them
to any distance. They take flight, complete their junction in the
midst of the swarms they form in the air, and never return to their
original abode. The males in a short time perish; for they know not
how to provide for their necessities; but the females are destined to
extend the republics of their species; they are, therefore, under the
necessity of going and establishing the foundations of them alone, and
unassisted. One would be inclined to believe that the wings, with which
they are provided, would be of advantage to them in their labours; but
Supreme Intelligence has ordered it otherwise; for as soon as they are
impregnated, they renounce that prerogative, which no longer agrees
with their new condition, and tear away of their own accord, and with
effect, those members which appear to us a gift from Heaven.
For what purpose has Nature required from them this sacrifice? Did she
wish, in this way, to render them more sedentary? Or was it not rather
in order to prevent their return to the natal ant-hill? This latter
conjecture seems to me the most plausible. What would have happened
did they possess the power of returning to their original family? That
the ant-hills would not have been scattered, that they would have
constituted but one immense habitation, which would soon have exhausted
the resources of its neighbourhood. This inconvenience would have
existed with bees, who do not reject their wings, had not that wisdom
which regulates the universe, guarded against it, by inspiring the
queens with mutual aversion and insurmountable dread of each other; so
much so, that the oldest quits her abode, and leads off with her a part
of her subjects, to found a new colony.
Humble-bees and wasps have not the power of re-assembling for the
purpose of forming one entire colony. Nature, without depriving them
of the use of their wings, guards against their abuse by dissolving
every year their republics.
What admirable variety in her productions, and in her laws! What
resources! With what care does she avoid repetition! It appears,
that every possible combination exists at the same time. There, the
republics are permanent; here, they are renewed every year. One of
these nations sends off, each year, several colonies, and the numerous
swarms go to tenant the woods and rocks; the other never divides; it
rests entire; allowing the departure of only a few individuals, who
go forth, separately, to found new societies. It was not sufficient
to multiply these societies, it was still necessary to provide for
their duration. These, then, are the means employed to sustain their
population, from age to age. In the case of bees, one single female
reigns over a numerous colony; her size, and especially her remarkable
fecundity, secure her the homage of her subjects. She keeps up the
population of the hive, and suffers none to dispute her authority.
However, at the period when she gives birth to males, the bees, who are
aware, perhaps, that she bears also the germs of females, prepare royal
cells: in these she deposits her eggs; and the larvæ, when disclosed,
become queens. The mother does not regard, without aversion, these
individuals, who may contend with her for pre-eminence: she endeavours
to destroy the objects of her anger; but the workers prevent her
reaching those cells which contain their forthcoming chiefs. The queen,
agitated with the fear of seeing them quit their cells, abandons the
hive, accompanied by a numerous colony, leaving behind her several
females destined to be her successors, who, after having disputed the
empire, or induced one part of the inhabitants to desert with them,
resign to one of their rivals, the sovereignty, or, at least, the
right of depositing her eggs alone, in the hive which witnessed their
birth.
A constitution, widely different, obtains with ants: several females
equally divide the important functions of procreation; they do not
evince that hatred, nor do we perceive any of that jealousy, of which
we have an example in bees; they also receive, in common, the homages
of the other casts. When the young females depart, for the purpose
of founding new states, the inhabitants of each city, endowed with
admirable prudence, retain some few to supply the place of those about
to terminate their career. It is thus the population of each republic
is sustained and increased.
The terms of Queens, of Subjects, of Constitution, of Republics, must
not be taken according to the strict letter. The unity or plurality
of females presents but a poor image of our different forms of
governments: in truth, each of these orders follows the laws of
its own instinct, without being conscious of any subordination; it,
notwithstanding, happens, that some few possess over the rest a certain
degree of influence, independent of any authority, properly so called.
The Termites, inhabitants of southern climates, also effect their union
in the air, fall upon the ground, and lose, as we are informed, their
wings. But who can teach us the secrets of their astonishing society?
why nature has produced amongst them four sorts of individuals?--one
single mother, who, when pregnant, becomes a hundred times more bulky
than at first; winged males; apterous neuters, appointed to the
household management, and the construction of their gigantic edifice;
and others, instructed only in the arts of war. Reaumur, De Geer,
Bonnet, &c. found without going any distance, subjects worthy of
exciting their attention. All our riches in this department have not
been yet explored. The wars of bees, already sung by a great poet,[3]
would furnish their historian with a rich and brilliant subject.
Hitherto, we have not been enabled to compare those in which ants
engage, to those of any other species of animals.
[3] _Vide_ Virgil’s Georgics, 4th Canto. These combats have been
described with great accuracy by the poet.--A.
If it be true, that war is one of the consequences of social order,
what shall we be induced to think, on perceiving regular armies issuing
from the gates of two rival cities, and going to the rencontre upon an
eminence, where battle is given, and where equal courage and carnage
are displayed on each side? What shall we say of those bodies of
troops, who only wait the signal of danger, to come to the assistance
of the advanced guard? of those champions, which struggle in pairs?
of those chains of wrestlers, who balance their strength, and seize
the favourable moment to destroy the equilibrium? of those prisoners
led away to the enemy’s camp, &c.? Is not this a strong image of our
serious quarrels?
But how strikingly does it contrast with our manners, that the arms,
courage, military skill, should, in these republics, rest with the
female sex[4]; whilst feebleness, idleness, and exile, fall to the lot
of the males. Those of bees, still worse treated, are put to death,
as soon as they have fulfilled their only functions. With wasps and
humble-bees, they are also destitute of arms, and show no industry; but
they are not the object of the fury of the workers: the severity of the
winter, as they know not, like the females, how to shelter themselves,
produces, generally speaking, their death. By what art are the workers
charged with the defence of the republic, enabled to reconnoitre,
understand, assist, and succour each other? The subtlety of their
senses, or rather that unbounded affection which exists between them
teaches them to distinguish, in their contests, their companions from
their enemies: a language, significant and extremely rapid, informs
them of the danger of their companions, or the success of their
enterprise. This language is the bond of that union, you remark in this
numerous family; it is not by sounds, or visible signs, but by contact
alone, that it is manifested, more particularly by the antennæ, those
organs which distinguish insects from all other living beings: these
serve, in those species collected in societies, the noble purpose
of communicating, from one individual to another, the impressions,
situation, and necessities of each: the antennal language is, without
doubt, imperfect, if we compare it with our wants, but amply suffices
for those of ants.
[4] It must be remembered that the workers are not neuters, but
females, whose moral, if I may use this expression, has been developed
at the expense of their physical condition.--A.
Bees also make use of signs, although they are no strangers to sounds.
When the queen wishes to lead away some part of the metropolis, to
found a new city, she passes from rank to rank, striking and exciting
each worker she meets, to accompany her: the movement is, at length,
general through the whole hive, and the swarm rush into the open air.
Should any strange animal, or insect, attempt to enter their abode,
the alarm is in an instant given, and a thousand lives are ready to be
sacrificed; but when their queen, as yet a prisoner, emits a shrill,
piercing cry, a general stupor immediately pervades the whole of the
bees, they all incline their head, and seem as if paralysed.
Wasps are also acquainted with the mode of imparting information to
their companions. When a single wasp discovers a strong-hold of sugar,
honey, or other article of food, it returns to its nest, and brings
off, in a short time, a hundred other wasps; but we are yet ignorant,
if it be by visible, or palpable signs, they are mutually informed of
this discovery.
It was in the nature of things, that all those beings living in
society, should have a language; but ants, who appear, in several
respects, to merit the pre-eminence over other insects, extend this
faculty even to the pucerons, from whom they obtain their nourishment.
The art, still more surprising, of rendering them domestic, has
nothing analagous in the other republics of which we have spoken: this
prerogative appears to touch upon the domain of man. But the Author
of all things has limited the power of these petty republics, in not
permitting them to make use of other arms than those with which they
are naturally provided; the inventive faculties have been denied them,
notwithstanding we have witnessed a few traits, which seem to announce
some species of combination. Their wants and their means have been
calculated beforehand, so that their instinct is not susceptible of
being brought to higher perfection.
In the number of those magnificent views of creation, which it is
permitted us to observe, we perceive man, so placed in the general
scale, that under the guidance of his own genius, and proud, perhaps,
of his brilliant faculties, he does not see any of those minute chains
by which he is surrounded. If delivered over, in some degree, to
himself, he sometimes meets in his institutions, and in his arts, with
the laws and proceedings nature has dictated to animals; it amounts
to a certain proof of his relation with disposing Intelligence: the
works of the latter, however, bear the impress of Infinite Wisdom, and
the conceptions of man, the seal of imperfection. In regarding those
colonies, which exist at our very feet, and where so much harmony
and order prevail, I think, I perceive the Author of nature, tracing
with his all-powerful hand, the laws of a republic exempt from abuse,
or framing the model of those compound societies, where servitude is
allied to a common interest.
The Author of nature has so willed it, that certain ants should
associate in their labours other workers of an industrious species,
upon whom is to devolve the office of rearing their young, and
providing their subsistence; whilst they themselves, abandoned to
warlike enterprise, and passing from a state of combat to one of ease,
are to enjoy the industry and share the affection and attention of
these strange ants. This institution, wisely combined, fulfils every
desirable condition. The slaves of the Amazons, carried away in their
infancy, perceiving no change in their country, attach themselves to
their captors, display their usual natural activity, and, unacquainted
with forced labours, and subject to no kind of oppression, have even,
as we have seen, a sufficiently extensive authority in the city which
has adopted them.
This great trait, in which is displayed unbounded wisdom, in calling
to our mind the abuses to which a similar institution is subject,
among several civilised nations, induces us to admire the mildness of
those laws, by which Providence rules these colonies, of which, she
has reserved to herself the entire direction; and shows us, that, in
delivering man to his own guidance, she has subjected him to a great
and heavy responsibility. If natural history had only served to prove
this truth, it would have attained the most dignified end of which
the sciences may boast--that of endeavouring to ameliorate the human
species, by the examples it lays before us.
APPENDIX.
NOTES
RELATIVE TO THE SPECIES.
The manners and habits of ants are so extremely varied, that it is
necessary to know, to what species we must refer each trait of their
industry,--each particular of their history.
With the view of distinguishing them more particularly, I have
transcribed several descriptions from Latreille; some extracted
from his Essay, upon the History of the Ants of France, “_Essai sur
l’Histoire des Fourmis de la France_;” others, from his Natural History
of Ants, “_Histoire Naturelle des Fourmis_.”
I feel proud in being able to add to this work the observations of my
esteemed friend and fellow citizen, Professor Jurine, so well known to
Naturalists, by his Memoirs upon Insects, “_Méthode nouvelle de classer
les Insectes_,” _&c._ and by his fine collection.
Not relying on my own judgment for a classification of ants, I
begged this gentleman would have the kindness to describe several
species, hitherto undescribed, concerning which it was necessary, more
particularly, to know the characters.
To these descriptions I shall add a few remarks, which my experience
has suggested.
DESCRIPTION
OF
THE SEVERAL ANTS
MENTIONED IN THESE RESEARCHES.
+The Herculean Ant.+
(_F. Herculanea_, Linn.)
W.[1]--Black. _Thorax_, base of the _abdomen_, _thighs_ of a
blood-red. _Length_, five to six lines.
F.--Black. Sides of the _thorax_, _scale_, base of the _abdomen_ of
a bay-red. _Superior wings_, entirely of a smoky black.
M.--Very black. _Superior wings_, smoky black. _Scale_, thick,
emarginate. _Tarsi_ and _knees_ ferruginous.
+Latreille+, _Essai sur l’Hist. des
Fourmis de la France_.
[1] The Males, Females, and Workers, are here designated by their
initial letters.
+The Ethiopian Ant.+
(_F. Nigra._)
W.--Elongate, very black, shining. _Mandibles_ and _legs_ of a
blackish brown. _Abdomen_ hairy. _Length_, three to five lines.
F.--Very black, shining. _Mandibles_ and _legs_ of a blackish
brown. _Scale_, nearly cordiform. _Abdomen_, short, oval, hairy.
_Wings_ white, a marginal point in the superior.
M.--Very black. _Scale_, truncate, emarginate. _Abdomen_ pubescent.
_Wings_ white, a marginal point in the superior.
+Latreille+, _Essai_, &c.
Obs. _Both these species inhabit hollow trees, where they form
shapeless grooves, or furrows; they also make use of the worm-holes in
the wood._
+The Fuliginous Ant.+
(_F. Fuliginosa_, Lat.)
W.--Short, very black, shining. _Antennæ_, at their geniculation,
_knees_ and _tarsi_ of a testaceous brown. _Head_, large,
emarginate posteriorly. _Scale_, small. _Abdomen_, globose.
_Length_, one line three-quarters.
F.--Very black, short. _Mandibles_, _antennæ_, and _feet_,
rufescent. _Wings_ and _scale_, as in the male.
M.--In colour like the worker. _Scale_ entire, nearly oval.
_Superior wings_, obscure at their base.
+Latreille+, _ibid._
Obs. _This species constructs admirable labyrinths in trees._
+The Brown Ant+,
(_F. Brunnea_.)
W.--Deeply ferruginous. _Eyes_, summit of the _head_, and _abdomen_
blackish. _Scale_, quadrate, almost bidentate. _Length_, one line
two-fifths.
F.--Brown, blackish. _Mandibles_, _antennæ_, and _feet_,
ferruginous. _Scale_, bidentate. _Abdomen_, large. _Wings_, long,
some obscure nervures upon the base of the superior.
+Latreille.+
M.--Size of the worker, of a blackish colour, passing to brown.
_Wings_ extremely diaphanous; their nervures scarcely visible;
their point slightly yellowish. _Scale_, quadrate, almost bidentate.
+Jurine.+
Obs. _This is the most skilful of the indigenous Mason Ants._
+The Yellow Ant+,
(_F. Flava_, Lat.)
W.--Of a reddish yellow. _Eyes_, black. _Scale_, small, nearly
quadrate, entire. _Body_, slightly pubescent. _Length_, one line
three-fifths.
F.--Testaceous, obscure (deep reddish brown), relucent. _Antennæ_
and _feet_, pallid. _Scale_, emarginate, quadrate, hairy.
_Abdomen_, large; margin of the rings yellowish, more shining.
_Superior wings_, slightly obscure at their base.
M.--Blackish, shining. _Antennæ_ and _feet_, pallid. _Scale_,
slightly emarginate. _Abdomen_, feebly tomentose. _Wings_,
transparent.
+Latreille.+
Obs. _This species constructs hillocks of earth._[2]
[2] I shall here add an observation, which I omitted to insert in
the chapter on Architecture, which was communicated to me by the
inhabitants of the Alps.
Those little Yellow Ants, that are in possession of the _pucerons_ or
_aphides_, serve the purpose of a compass to the Mountaineers, when
they are enshrouded in thick fogs, or have lost their way during the
night. Their habitations, which are more common, and more elevated in
mountains than elsewhere, take an oblong and almost regular shape. They
lie in a direction east and west. Their summit, and the greatest slope,
always faces the east: but they incline also on the opposite side. I
have verified, upon thousands of these ant-hills, this observation of
the shepherds. I found a trifling number of exceptions; but only in
those instances, where these hillocks had been deranged by men, or
other animals. They do not preserve this form in the plains, where they
are more exposed to such accidents.--A.
+The Fallow Ant+, (_black back_,)
(_F. Rufa_, Linn.)
W.--Of a fallow red, smooth. _Antennæ_, posterior part of the
_head_, back of the _thorax_, superior margin of the _scale_, and
_abdomen_, black. Three small _ocelli_. _Scale_, nearly oval.
_Length_, three lines.
F.--Colour of the worker. _Scale_, entire. _Abdomen_, short, swoln,
red at its base. _Superior wings_, smoky black.
M.--Of an unpolished black. Extremity of the _abdomen_ and _feet_,
fallow. _Scale_, thick, truncate. Exterior margin of the _superior
wings_, blackish.
+Latreille+, _Essai, &c._
_I thought it proper to make of the Fallow Ants two species, as they
are distinguished from each other by very remarkable characters, and by
a difference in their habitations; some being infinitely larger than
others: the former, are situated in forests; the latter, alongside
hedges and meadows. To the second species, I shall give the name of the
Fallow Ant with the red back_, (Fourmi fauve, dos rouge) _which dwells
by preference in the woods_.
+The Fallow Ant+, (_red back_,)
(_F. Rufa_, Linn.)
W.--Of a blood-red. Upper part of the _head_, _eyes_, _antennæ_,
_abdomen_, and _feet_, blackish. _Scale_, slightly emarginate.
F.--Of a blood-red. Upper part of the _head_, _eyes_, _antennæ_,
superior _thoracic plate_, and _abdomen_, blackish. _Scale_ thick,
oval, entire. _Wings_ very smoky at their base. The first segments
of the _abdomen_ have a slightly reddish tint.
M.--Black. Last segment of the _abdomen_ testaceous. _Feet_,
reddish. _Thighs_, slightly blackened at their base. _Wings_,
slightly smoky.
+Jurine.+
_It appears to me, that M. Latreille has described an individual of
this species, or, if you please, variety, in his History of Ants_,
“Histoire des Fourmis,” _whilst speaking of the female. A very
remarkable difference between them, is, that the rings of the female
of this latter species have infinitely more lustre than those of the
former. The fallow colour is also more bright. The denominations of_
dos noir _and_ dos rouge _have been given from the colour of the
worker_.
+The Red Ant+,
(_Myrmica Rubra_, Lat.)
(_Formica Rubra_, Linn.)
W.--Reddish, slightly shagreened. _Thorax_, armed with two points,
traversing the first knot. Upper part of the _abdomen_, blackish.
_Length_, two lines and a half.
F.--A little larger than, and closely resembling, the worker.
Summit of the _head_, some lines upon the back of the _thorax_,
base of the _superior wings_, upper part of the _abdomen_,
blackish. _Spines_ moderate.
M.--As large as the worker. _Head_ and _thorax_, black, slightly
shagreened. _Mouth_, base of the _antennæ_, _knots_, _abdomen_,
_feet_, for the most part piceous. Rest of the _rings_ and _tarsi_,
obscurely testaceous. _Spines_ of the _thorax_, short. _Wings_,
blackish at their base. _Feet_, hairy.
+Latreille+, _Essai, &c._
_This species constructs its nest in the earth, or in trees. It emits a
very pungent odour, and lives by rapine._
+The Turf Ant+,
(_F. Cæspitum_, L.)
W.--Of a blackish brown. _Antennæ_, _thorax_, sometimes _feet_, of
a lighter colour. _Thorax_, entirely shagreened. _Spines_ short.
Two tubercles at the insertion of the _abdomen_: the latter shining.
F.--Black, brown, hairy. _Antennæ_ at their geniculation, _feet_,
testaceous, obscure. _Thighs_ and _legs_, a shade deeper. _Spines_,
short. _Wings_, white, marginal point slightly marked. _Abdomen_,
shining.
M.--Black, brown, nearly bare. _Antennæ_ and _feet_, palish yellow.
Head, rounded posteriorly. Back part of the _thorax_, obtuse.
_Wings_, white, without any point. _Abdomen_, shining, _feet_,
elongate.
+Latreille.+
_This ant constructs its nest, sometimes, in the grass, sometimes on
the naked ground, sometimes in the sand._
+The Dark Ash-coloured Ant+,
(_F. Fusca_, Linn.)
W.--Of a shining dark ash-colour. Base of the _Antennæ_, and
_feet_, reddish. _Scale_, large, nearly triangular. Three small
_ocelli_.[3]
In shape it resembles the Fallow-Ant. The _body_ is black, of a
slight ash-colour, shining, nearly smooth, and elongate. The first
joints of the _antennæ_, and the two or three following joints, are
of a deep reddish colour. The fore-part of the _head_ is carinated.
The three small _ocelli_ are visible.
The _scale_ is large, between an oval and triangular form. The
middle of the superior margin is slightly elevated, slightly
concave. The _abdomen_ is nearly globular, feebly covered with hair
at the extremity. The feet are of a deep reddish colour, with the
base of the _thighs_, of an obscure brown. _Vide_ Pl. II. fig. 9.
F.--Of a shining black: by reflection slightly bronzed. The first
joint of the _antennæ_ is of a blackish brown, the second black.
The _scale_, large, nearly quadrate, the superior margin straight,
slightly concave. _Feet_, the same as in the worker. _Wings_,
slightly obscure, with the nervures and the marginal point of the
superior, blackish. _Vide_ Pl. II. fig. 8.
M.--Black, very shining, nearly smooth. _Antennæ_, commonly black,
sometimes of an obscure yellow, or half black and half fallow.
_Scale_ thick, nearly quadrate, the superior margin longer, almost
straight, slightly concave. _Anus_ and the _feet_ a palish yellow,
_haunches_ black. _Superior wings_, slightly obscure, with the
nervures deeply yellowish, and the stigma blackish. _Vide_ Pl. II.
fig. 8.
[3] I give a more extended description of the Auxiliary and Amazon
Ants, on account of the importance of the subject.--A.
_The male and female are figured of the size represented in the Plate,
but larger than Latreille has them. This Author speaks of a variety in
which the brown parts are much more fallow than in the above. This he
has described in his little work, under the name of the Black Ant._
(Fourmi noire.) _The_ Fourmi noiratre _of his monograph appears to me
to be the same_.
_Be this as it may, these three varieties, whose manners and habits are
precisely the same, ought to be comprised under the denomination of_
noir-cendrées.
_They build after the same manner. They open the cocoons of their pupæ
a few days after they have spun, under the form of larvæ, and are all
equally exposed to the invasions of the Amazon Ants._
+Latreille+, _Hist. Nat. des Fourmis_.
+The Mining Ant+,
(_F. Cunicularia_, Lat.)
W.--_Head_ and _abdomen_, black. About the _mouth_, upper part of
the _head_, first joint of the _antennæ_, _thorax_, and _feet_, of
a pale fallow. _Vide_ Pl. II. fig. 12.
It resembles the worker of the Fallow Ant. The _antennæ_ have their
first joint yellow, and the second of a blackish red. The _head_ is
black, with the parts surrounding the _mouth_; the inferior part
reddish. The _forehead_ bears an impressed line. Three apparent
_ocelli_. _Thorax_, of a much paler yellow than in the Fallow Ants,
and no black upon the back (on this account they closely resemble
the Fallow Ants, with the _red back_). The _scale_ is fallow,
nearly oval; having the middle of its superior margin retuse, as if
truncate. The _abdomen_ is of a black ash-colour, pubescent. The
_feet_ are fallow. _Length_, two lines and a half.
F.--_Body_, elongate, about three lines and a half, much resembling
that of the Fallow Ant. _Antennæ_ and _head_, same form and colour
as in the worker. _Thorax_, fallow, with three marks or stains
upon the back. _Scutellum_, and the mark upon each side, under the
wings, black. _Scale_, fallow, cordiform, strongly emarginate.
_Abdomen_ black. _Feet_, fallow. _Wings_, diaphanous, with the
nervures of a yellowish brown, and the stigma deeper in colour.
_Length_, three to four lines, sometimes even four and a half.
_Vide_ Pl. II. fig. 11.
_There is a variety of this female, in which the fore-part of the
abdomen is fallow; the back is black, with two red rays. Length,
three lines._
M.--About three lines in length. It has the carriage of the male
of the Fallow Ant. The _body_ is black, more shining, slightly
sericeous on the _abdomen_. The _scale_ is strongly emarginate.
_Anus_, of an obscure reddish brown. _Feet_, blackish. _Wings_
slightly obscure; the nervures of the superior of a yellowish
brown; the stigma black. _Vide_ Pl. II. fig. 13.
_M. Latreille brings under the denomination of_ mineuse, _the_ effacée
_of his monograph, which is only a variety. These ants, like the
Ash-coloured Ants, tear the cocoons spun by the larvæ, as soon as the
latter have undergone their transformation._
+The Rufescent Ant+,
(_F. Rufescens_, Lat.)
_Fourth family._ Fourmi ambigue: _thus called, because it holds an
intermediate rank between two other families_.
W.--Of a pale red. _Mandibles_, slender, arcuate, scarcely
denticulate. _Ocelli_, three, small. _Thorax_, elevated
posteriorly. _Length_, three lines.
The _body_ is elongate, of a pale red, nearly smooth, having only
a few hairs upon the _head_, _scale_, and _abdomen_. The _antennæ_
are inserted near the mouth, the part between them is not elevated,
as in the ants of the former families (like the preceding.) The
_head_ is rather large, nearly quadrate, rounded posteriorly. The
_mandibles_ are arched, slender, scarcely denticulate, terminating
in a point, much resembling those of the +Tiphiæ+. This character
is unique in the indigenous ants. The middle of the _forehead_
bears a small impressed line. The _eyes_ are small and black. The
three small _ocelli_ are very apparent. The _thorax_ is narrow,
gibbous, and rounded anteriorly, sinking in the middle of the back,
and afterwards terminating in a rounded elevation. The _scale_ is
large, very thick, rounded at the superior margin, shaped like the
segment of a circle, whose extremity is truncated, serving as the
base. The _abdomen_ is small, globose, conical. The _sting_ very
evident. The _tarsi_ are slightly hairy.
F.--It closely resembles the worker. The _thorax_ is nearly
cylindric, elevated, and rounded at its posterior extremity, which
is separated from the rest of the back, by a transverse furrow.
The _scale_ is of the same form as in the worker. The _abdomen_ a
little larger.
_The wings were wanting in the individual our author possessed.
This excellent description agrees, in every respect, with our
Legionary Ants. M. Jurine describes the individuals I presented
him, as follows._
W.--Reddish. Last segment of the _abdomen_ more pale. _Eyes_,
black. _Vide_ Pl. II. fig. 2.
F.--Larger than the worker, of a deeper red. _Thorax_ extremely
round posteriorly, and projecting. _Scale_, large, thick, and
rounded. _Abdomen_, oval, shortened. _Wings_, slightly smoky.
_Vide_ fig. 1.
M.--Size of the worker; black. _Abdomen_ oval, elongate. _Sexual
parts_, testaceous. _Thighs_, black; whitish at their base and
extremity. _Legs_ and _tarsi_, pale. _Scale_, moderately thick,
emarginate. _Wings_, extremely diaphanous. _Vide_ fig. 3.
_Apterous female._ Blood-red. Anterior part of the _thorax_,
reddish brown. _Scutellum_, projecting, rounded. _Scale_, thick,
oval entire, much resembling the female of the Rufescent Ant, (_F.
Roussâtre_) and equally large. _Vide_ fig. 4.
+The Sanguine Ant+,
(_F. Sanguinea_, Lat.)
F.--Blood-red. _Eyes_ and _abdomen_, black. Upper part of the
_head_, slightly tinged with black. _Scale_, oval, less emarginate
than in the worker. _Wings_, strongly smoky towards their base.
_Vide_ fig. 5.
M.--Black. _Feet_, reddish. _Wings_, smoky black towards their
base. _Scale_, emarginate. _Vide_ fig. 7.
W.--Like the female, but the _head_ of a deeper red; and the
_thorax_ more contracted. _Vide_ fig. 6.
+Jurine.+
_M. Latreille only describes the worker, and in the following
terms._ Of a blood-red. _Eyes_ and _abdomen_, black; very small
_ocelli_. _Scale_ oval, slightly emarginate.
FINIS.
Printed by A. and R. Spottiswoode,
Printers-Street, London.
Transcriber’s Notes
In the .txt version, surrounding characters have been used to indicate
_Italics_ and +Smallcaps+; formatting for superscript has
been omitted.
Minor typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation have been corrected only when one
form is overwhelmingly dominant; otherwise inconsistencies have been
retained.
Inconsistent Chapter and Section titles have been retained.
Period spellings have been retained.
Placement of Plates has been retained.
(Descriptive or Alt text) has been added for each Plate.
Footnotes have been moved to immediately follow the paragraph from which
they are referenced, and have been marked with numbers rather than an
asterisk.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NATURAL HISTORY OF ANTS ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg
Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
