Stories about the Instinct of Animals, Their Characters, and Habits | Page 9

and you will have a tolerably accurate idea of these singular
edifices.
"Each individual nest is three or four inches in diameter, which is
sufficient for the bird. But as they are all in contact with one another,
around the eaves, they appear to the eye to form but one building, and
are distinguishable from each other only by a little external aperture,
which serves as an entrance to the nest; and even this is sometimes
common to three different nests, one of which is situated at the bottom,
and the other two at the sides. According to Paterson, the number of
cells increasing in proportion to the increase of inhabitants, the old ones
become 'streets of communication, formed by line and level.' No doubt,

as the republic increases, the cells must be multiplied also; but it is easy
to imagine that, as the augmentation can take place only at the surface,
the new buildings will necessarily cover the old ones, which must
therefore be abandoned.
"Should these even, contrary to all probability, be able to subsist, it
may be presumed that the depth of their situation, by preventing any
circulation and renewal of the air, would render them so extremely hot
as to be uninhabitable. But while they thus become useless, they would
remain what they were before, real nests, and change neither into
streets nor sleeping-rooms.
"The large nest which I examined was one of the most considerable
which I had seen any where on my journey, and contained three
hundred and twenty inhabited cells."
"Well, Uncle Thomas, that is very curious; I don't know which most to
admire. I rather incline to the beaver however, because of the winter
store of food which he lays up."
"There is another animal which displays the building instinct so
remarkably, that I must tell you something about it before we part."
"Which is it, Uncle Thomas?"
"It is the white ant of Africa; it is a little animal, scarcely, if at all,
exceeding in size those of our own country, yet they construct large
nests of a conical or sugar loaf shape, sometimes from ten to twelve
feet in height; and one species builds them so strong and compact, that
even when they are raised to little more than half their height, the
wild-bulls of the country use them as sentinel posts to watch over the
safety of the herd which grazes below.
"Mr. Smeathman, a naturalist fully capable to do justice to the nature of
these erections, states, that on one occasion he and four men stood on
the top of one of them. So you may guess how strong they are."
"Of what are they made, Uncle Thomas? They must be very curious

structures. How very different from the ant hills of England!"
"Very different, indeed, John. They are made of clay and sand, and as
in such a luxuriant climate they soon become coated over with grass,
they quickly assume the appearance of hay-cocks. They are indeed very
remarkable structures, whether we consider them externally or
internally, and are said to excel those of the beaver and the bee in the
same proportion as the inhabitants of the most polished European
nation excel the huts of the rude inhabitants of the country where the
Termites or white ants abound; while in regard to mere size, Mr.
Smeathman calculates that, supposing a man's ordinary height to be six
feet, the nests of these creatures may be considered, relative to their
size and that of man's, as being raised to four times the height of the
largest Egyptian pyramids."
"That is enormous, Uncle Thomas?"
"It is indeed, Frank; but strange though it is, the interior of the nest is
even more remarkable, many parts of its construction falling little short
of human ingenuity. I need not attempt to describe all its arrangements,
which, without a plan, would be nearly unintelligible; but there is one
device so admirable that I must point it out to you. The nest is formed
of two floors, as it were, and all round the walls are galleries perforated
in various winding directions, and leading to the store-houses of the
colony, or to the nurseries where the eggs are deposited. As it is
sometimes convenient to reach the galleries which open from the upper
roof without threading all the intricacies of these winding passages,
they construct bridges of a single arch, and thus at once reach the upper
roof, from which these diverge. They are thus also saved much labour,
in transporting provisions, and in bearing the eggs to the places where
they remain till they are hatched."
"That is indeed admirable, Uncle Thomas; they must be very curious
animals."
"They are divided into various classes, in the same way as bees;
choosing a queen, and some