Animal Intelligence. George John Romanes

although long disputed (owing to the authority of Huber), has now been amply vindicated.

      Mr. Moggridge, who was a careful and industrious observer, found the following points of interest in the habits of the European harvesters. From the nest in various directions there proceed outgoing trains, which may be from twenty to thirty or more yards in length, and each consists of a double row of ants, moving, like the leaf-cutting ants, in opposite directions. Those in the outgoing row are empty-handed, while those in the incoming row are laden. But here the burdens are grass seeds. The roads terminate in the foraging ground, or ant-fields, and the insects composing the columns there become dispersed by hundreds among the seed-yielding grasses. The following is their method of collecting seeds; I quote from Moggridge:—

      

      It is not a little surprising to see that the ants bring in not only seeds of large size and fallen grain, but also green capsules, the torn stalks of which show that they have been freshly gathered from the plant. The manner in which they accomplish this feat is as follows. An ant ascends the stem of a fruiting plant of shepherd's-purse (Capsella bursa-pastoris), let us say, and selects a well-filled but green pod about midway up the stem, those below being ready to shed their seeds at a touch. Then, seizing it in its jaws, and fixing its hind legs firmly as a pivot, it contrives to turn round and round, and so strain the fibres of the fruit-stalk that at length they snap. It then descends to the stem, patiently backing and turning upwards again as often as the clumsy and disproportionate burden becomes wedged between the thickly set stalks, and joins the line of its companions on their way to the nest. In this manner capsules of chickweed (Stellaria media) and entire calyces, containing the nutlets of calamint, are gathered; two ants also sometimes combine their efforts, when one stations itself near the base of the peduncle and gnaws it at the point of greatest tension, while the other hauls upon and twists it. I have never seen a capsule severed from its stalk by cutting alone, and the mandibles of this ant are perhaps incompetent to perform such a task. I have occasionally seen ants engaged in cutting the capsules of certain plants, drop them, and allow their companions below to carry them away; and this corresponds with the curious account given by Ælian of the manner in which the spikelets of corn are severed and thrown down 'to the people below,' τῷ δήμῳ τῷ κάτω.

      The recognition of the principle of the division of labour which the latter observation supplies, is further proved by the following quotation from the same author. A dead grasshopper which was being carried into their nest was—

      Too large to pass through the door, so they tried to dismember it. Failing in this, several ants drew the wings and legs as far back as possible, while others gnawed through the muscles where the strain was greatest. They succeeded at last in thus pulling it in.

      The same thing is strikingly shown by the following quotation from Lespès:—

      

      If the road from the place where they are gathering their harvest to the nest is very long, they make regular depôts for their provisions under large leaves, stones, or other suitable places, and let certain workers have the duty of carrying them from depôt to depôt.

      Büchner (loc. cit. p. 101) also makes the following references to the statements of previous observers:—

      The subterranean workers of this remarkable genus are very clever. The Rev. H. Clark reports from Rio de Janeiro, that the Sa-ubas have made a regular tunnel under the bed of the river Parahyba, which is there as broad as the Thames at London, in order to reach a storehouse which is on the opposite bank. Bates tells us that close to the Magoary rice-mills, near Para, the ants bored through the dam of a large reservoir, and the water escaped before the mischief could be remedied. In the Para Botanical Gardens an enterprising French gardener did everything he could to drive the Sa-ubas away. He lit fires at the chief entrances of their nests, and blew sulphur vapour into their galleries by means of bellows. But how astonished was Bates when he saw the vapour come out at no less a distance than seventy yards! Such an extension have the subterranean passages of the Sa-ubas.

      The recognition of the principle of the division of labour, which is shown by the above observations, is further corroborated by the following quotation from Belt:—

      Between the old burrows and the new one was a steep slope. Instead of descending this with their burdens, they cast them down on the top of the slope, whence they rolled down to the bottom, where another relay of labourers picked them up and carried them to the new burrow. It was amusing to watch the ants hurrying out with bundles of food, dropping them over the slope, and rushing back immediately for more.

      The same thing has been observed, as already stated, of the leaf-cutting ants—those engaged in cutting frequently throwing down the fragments of leaf which they cut to the carriers below. The prevalence of this habit among various species of ants therefore renders credible the following statements of Vincent Gredler of Botzen which are thus recorded in 'der Zool. Gart.,' xv. p. 434:—

      In Herr Gredler's monastery one of the monks had been accustomed for some months to put food regularly on his window-sill for ants coming up from the garden. In consequence of Herr Gredler's communications he took it into his head to put the bait for the ants, pounded sugar, into an old inkstand, and hung this up by a string to the cross-piece of his window, and left it hanging freely. A few ants were in with the bait. These soon found their road out over the string with their grains of sugar, and so their way back to their friends. Before long a procession was arranged on the new road from the window-sill along the string to the spot where the sugar was, and so things went on for two days, nothing fresh occurring. But one day the procession stopped at the old feeding-place on the window-sill, and took the food thence, without going up to the pendent sugar-jar. Closer observation revealed that about a dozen of the rogues were in the jar above, and were busily and unwearyingly carrying the grains of sugar to the edge of the pot, and throwing them over to their comrades down below.

      Many other instances of the division of labour might be given besides these, and those to be mentioned hereafter in other connections throughout the course of the present chapter; but enough has been said to show that the principle is unquestionably acted upon by sundry species of ants.

      That ants are liable to make mistakes, and, when they do, that they profit by experience, is shown by the following experiment made by Moggridge; and many other instances might be given were it desirable:—

      It sometimes happens that an ant has manifestly made a bad selection, and is told on its return that what it has brought home with much pains is no better than rubbish, and is hustled out of the nest, and forced to throw its burden away. In order to try whether these creatures were not fallible like other mortals, I one day took out with me a little packet of grey and white porcelain beads, and scattered these in the path of a harvesting train. They had scarcely lain a minute on the earth before one of the largest workers seized upon a bead, and with some difficulty clipped it with its mandibles and trotted back at a great pace to the nest. I waited for a little while, my attention being divided between the other ants who were vainly endeavouring to remove the beads, and the entrance down which the worker had disappeared, and then left the spot. On my return in an hour's time, I found the ants passing unconcernedly by and over the beads which lay where I had strewed them in apparently undiminished quantities; and I conclude from this that they had found out their mistake, and had wisely returned to their accustomed occupations.

      When the grain is thus taken into the nest, it is stored in regular granaries, but not until it has been denuded of its 'husks' or 'chaff.' The denuding process is carried on below ground, and the chaff is brought up to the surface, where it is laid in heaps to be blown away by the wind.

      It is a remarkable thing, and one not yet understood, why the seed, when thus stored in subterranean chambers just far enough below the surface to favour germination, does not germinate. Moggridge says that out of twenty-one nests and among many thousands of seeds that he examined, he only found twenty-seven cases of incipient germination. Moreover, all these cases occurred in months from November to February, while in the nests opened in October, March, April, and May, no sprouted seeds were discovered, though these are the months highly favourable to germination. He is at a loss to suggest the treatment to