The little thing went off
and sunned itself on a leaf for a time, then returned to the flower,
only to be instantly ejected again. Other attempts were made, but the
big wasp now kept a jealous watch on its neighbour's movements, and
would not allow it to come within several inches of the flower without
throwing itself into a threatening attitude. The defeated bee retired to
sun itself once more, apparently determined to wait for the big tyrant
to go away; but the other seemed to know what was wanted, and spitefully
made up its mind to stay where it was. The leaf-cutter then gave up the
contest. Suddenly rising up into the air, it hovered, hawk-like, above
the Monedula for a moment, then pounced down on its back, and clung
there, furiously biting, until its animosity was thoroughly appeased;
then it flew off, leaving the other master of the field certainly, but
greatly discomposed, and perhaps seriously injured about the base of the
wings. I was rather surprised that they were not cut quite off, for a
leaf-cutting bee can use its teeth as deftly as a tailor can his shears.
Doubtless to bees, as to men, revenge is sweeter than honey. But, in the
face of mental science, can a creature as low down in the scale of
organization as a leaf-cutting bee be credited with anything so
intelligent and emotional as deliberate anger and revenge, "which
implies the need of retaliation to satisfy the feelings of the person
(or bee) offended?" According to Bain _(Mental and Moral Science)_ only
the highest animals--stags and bulls he mentions-can be credited with
the developed form of anger, which, he describes as an excitement caused
by pain, reaching the centres of activity, and containing an impulse
knowingly to inflict suffering on another sentient being.
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