“After You, My Dear Alphonse!”

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 678, 1 June 1929, Page 2 (Supplement)

“After You, My Dear Alphonse!”

Etiquette in the Insect World

Etiquette aud class distinctions are by no means exclusively human attributes. Ants and bees know their places in society, and keep to them. Two-piece bathing costumes are insisted upon on many Australian beaches, but the bather who forgets them has nothing worse to fear than public opinion and the heavy hand of a policeman. How much worse is the fate of the naked lobster which is liable to the death penalty? For some reason—perhaps it is that a higher moral sense, as far as possessions are concerned, exists among the smaller animals —consciousness of right being on his side seems to give an ant, or a bee, or a wasp an added punch to his sting when his home is threatened. "Rock limpets are like homing pigeons," said Mr. W. Boardman, of the Australasian Museum, in a recent lecture (says the Sydney “Sun”). “The limpets invariably return to their own little piece of rock after feeding some distance away, and no self-respecting limpet would dream of jumping another’s claim.” While the mason-bee has not reached quite the same exalted moral plane of the rock limpet, it can still

“COME ALONG, MASTER CYRIL!’’— There are nurses in the ant world who take their charges for a daily stroll, carrying the ba by in their arms. differentiate between right and wrong, though, like the late Bord Byron, it sometimes “sees loftier things, and approves of them, but pursues viler pleasures." The mason, for instance, does sometimes covet his neighbour’s house, and he is base enough to watch for an oppox-tunity to seize it. If in a moment of carelessness the neighbour steps along to the village to do the week’s shopping, the covetous one will probably seize the nest. Of course, there is a row when the rightful owner returns, and naturalists have noted with great satisfaction that, in such a case, right invariably triumphs. Possession counts for nothing. Swollen with anger at the thought that the intruder has not a tittle of right to the nest, the owner’s strength seems to be the strength of ten, and the lawless one is hurled forth with blackened eyes and a bleeding lip. It is not the intention of this article to extol the morals of the barnyard, but it has to be mentiontd'that a definite social pecking order exists among hens. Heu A, by some obscure right of birth, may peck Hen B with impunity, without fear of a return peck; Hen B, similarly, may peck Hen C, who is also at the mercy of Hen A’s beak, while poor C passes the good work on to Heu D, E and F. Hen Z leads a miserable life, and any humane

poultry farmer will early mark her out as "Prime Spring Chicken.” For her there is little joy in this best of all possible worlds. "Go to the ant” is a favourite recipe from philosophers to guide the idle human young, but if we all accepted their advice life would lose a lot of Its modern flavour. We are tolerably free from marked social distinctions, but among ants, classes are fixed beyond hope of revision. An ant who is born a worker-ant will die a worker-ant, and however well he works he cannot hope to rise to anything better —he can only serve the community to his utmost in his humble capacity. There are even two distinct classes of workers, the smallheaded ones, to whom fall the less strenuous duties, and the big-headed fellows, armed with mighty jaws. They are kept busy all their lives handling the big raw products, and cutting pieces of provender into smaller pieces which the small-heads pick up and carry off to the nest. The queen ant is the founder of each new community, and she is kept busy laying eggs for anything up to 15 years. She digs herself in, lays her first batch of very inferior eggs, from which a very inferior class of working ant emerges. These first children set about enlarging the nest, while the queen lays more and better eggs, and eats such food as her children bring her. She is building up’ a nation, and she does it systematically and thoroughly. Nurse-ants are born next, and they it is who tend to the later babyworker ants, and see them through all the troubles of childhood. The nurses in a breed of Texan ants take great pride in the welfare of their charges, and after nightfall carry the babies out of the nest and parade up and down, carrying them in their arms.

Americans have the honey-pot ants, and Australians their sugar-bag ants. These are not called upon to do any work and are merely kept by the ant community in health and plenty, in order that they may be of service in hard times. The worker ants go out and forage for honey, which they bring hack to the nest. The “sugar-bags” are waiting for them with open mouths, and the workers discharge their burden of sweetness into these mouths. Eventually the sugarbags become so bloated with good things that they resemble fat currants precariously balanced on six legs. Then winter comes. The worker ants approach the sugar-bags with anty blandishments and stroke their sides with their feelers. Overcome by such unwonted tenderness, these living store-houses, permit drops of pure honey to fall from their mouths —and the hungry, cunning workers lap it up. There are- excellent examples of etiquette among crabs.. Crabs recognise that it, is necessary for their younger brothers and sisters to grow. The young crab, when he finds that his birthday shell is too restricted, splits it and steps out into the world naked and defenceless.

“Bet me help you in your unfortunate predicament, young man!” says an older crab, and the shell-less one climbs on to the underside of its body and cleaves to it until he develops a new shell of his own. ’lt is a Quixotic partnership, and the host crab never deserts its protege, except if badly harassed in an attack by an enemy.

Lobsters have the same difficulty in the matter of outgrowing their shells, but they do not stand by one another In such emergencies. When a lobster finds that his shell is crowding him. he rushes; off to some secluded spot, and there inflates himself until the shell splits down the back. He steps out of it, naked and defenceless, a tasty mouthful for other fish. Not a bit of use to turn to other lobsters and say, “I say, old chap, you were young once—what about a bit of patronage?” Elderly lobsters are sticklers for the proprieties, and they do not like to see a countryman with his shell off. In fact, if they do see him, they will eat him, just to maintain the high moral tone of lobsters.