I have said that the Bembex on leaving her mine took note of the locality; this seemed to be the explanation of the short delay previous to her taking flight; on rising in the air also the insects generally flew round over the place before making straight off.Another nearly allied but much larger species, the Monedula signata, whose habits I observed on the banks of the Upper Amazons, sometimes excavates its mine solitarily on sand-banks recently laid bare in the middle of the river, and closes the orifice before going in search of prey.In these cases the insect has to make a journey of at least half a mile to procure the kind of fly, the Motuca (Hadrus lepidotus), with which it provisions its cell.I often noticed it to take a few turns in the air round the place before starting; on its return it made without hesitation straight for the closed mouth of the mine.Iwas convinced that the insects noted the bearings of their nests and the direction they took in flying from them.The proceeding in this and similar cases (I have read of something analogous having been noticed in hive bees) seems to be a mental act of the same nature as that which takes place in ourselves when recognising a locality.The senses, however, must be immeasurably more keen and the mental operation much more certain in them than it is in man, for to my eye there was absolutely no landmark on the even surface of sand which could serve as guide, and the borders of the forest were not nearer than half a mile.The action of the wasp would be said to be instinctive; but it seems plain that the instinct is no mysterious and unintelligible agent, but a mental process in each individual, differing from the same in man only by its unerring certainty.The mind of the insect appears to be so constituted that the impression of external objects or the want felt, causes it to act with a precision which seems to us like that of a machine constructed to move in a certain given way.I have noticed in Indian boys a sense of locality almost as keen as that possessed by the sand-wasp.An old Portuguese and myself, accompanied by a young lad about ten years of age, were once lost in the forest in a most solitary place on the banks of the main river.Our case seemed hopeless, and it did not for some time occur to us to consult our little companion, who had been playing with his bow and arrow all the way while we were hunting, apparently taking no note of the route.When asked, however, he pointed out, in a moment, the right direction of our canoe.He could not explain how he knew; Ibelieve he had noted the course we had taken almost unconsciously; the sense of locality in his case seemed instinctive.
The Monedula signata is a good friend to travellers in those parts of the Amazons which are infested by the blood-thirsty Motuca.I first noticed its habit of preying on this fly one day when we landed to make our fire and dine on the borders of the forest adjoining a sand-bank.The insect is as large as a hornet, and has a most waspish appearance.I was rather startled when one out of the flock which was hovering about us flew straight at my face-- it had espied a Motuca on my neck and was thus pouncing upon it.It seizes the fly not with its jaws, but with its fore and middle feet, and carries it off tightly held to its breast.
Wherever the traveller lands on the Upper Amazons in the neighbourhood of a sand-bank he is sure to be attended by one or more of these useful vermin-killers.
The bay of Mapiri was the limit of my day excursions by the river-side to the west of Santarem.A person may travel, however, on foot, as Indians frequently do, in the dry season for fifty or sixty miles along the broad clean sandy beaches of the Tapajos.
The only obstacles are the rivulets, most of which are fordable when the waters are low.To the east my rambles extended to the banks of the Mahica inlet.This enters the Amazons about three miles below Santarem, where the clear stream of the Tapajos begins to be discoloured by the turbid waters of the main river.
The Mahica has a broad margin of rich level pasture, limited on each side by the straight, tall hedge of forest.On the Santarem side it is skirted by high wooded ridges.A landscape of this description always produced in me an impression of sadness and loneliness which the luxuriant virgin forests that closely hedge in most of the by-waters of the Amazons never created.The pastures are destitute of flowers, and also of animal life, with the exception of a few small plain-coloured birds and solitary Caracara eagles whining from the topmost branches of dead trees on the forest borders.A few settlers have built their palm-thatched and mud-walled huts on the banks of the Mahica, and occupy themselves chiefly in tending small herds of cattle.They seemed to be all wretchedly poor.The oxen however, though small, were sleek and fat, and the district most promising for agricultural and pastoral employments.In the wet season the waters gradually rise and cover the meadows, but there is plenty of room for the removal of the cattle to higher ground.The lazy and ignorant people seem totally unable to profit by these advantages.The houses have no gardens or plantations near them.
I was told it was useless to plant anything, because the cattle devoured the young shoots.In this country, grazing and planting are very rarely carried on together, for the people seem to have no notion of enclosing patches of ground for cultivation.They say it is too much trouble to make enclosures.The construction of a durable fence is certainly a difficult matter, for it is only two or three kinds of tree which will serve the purpose in being free from the attacks of insects, and these are scattered far and wide through the woods.
