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Relying on the Crioceris, who is an expert judge of exotic as well as of native Liliaceae, you may name as a lily the plant with which you are unacquainted and trust the word of this singular botanical master.
Finding itself the gainer by this invention, setting the parasite at defiance under its coverlet, the grub made a strict law of what was an accident; and the Crioceris faithfully handed down the repulsive great-coat to her offspring. So far this is not so bad. But things now begin to become complicated.
Her eggs, which are a deep olive-green and cylindrical, pointed at one pole and squared off at the other, closely resemble those of the Field Crioceris and, like these, usually stand up on the supporting surface, to which they are fastened by the square end. It would be easy to confuse the two if we had not the position which they occupy to guide us.
Its opal box, the hard rind of the berry, has ensured its safety just as well as a filthy overcoat would have done and perhaps even better. The Crioceris has found safety inside its opal globe. Safety? Ah, but what an unfortunate expression I have used! Is there any one in the world who can flatter himself that he has escaped the spoiler?
In the middle of July, at the time when the Twelve-spotted Crioceris comes up from under the ground in the adult form, my rearing-jars yield me swarms of a very small Gall-fly, a slender, graceful, blue-black Chalcid, without any visible boring-tool. Has the puny creature a name? Have the nomenclators catalogued it?
The red Crioceris fed, though with a very scornful tooth, on the foliage of the asparagus, the favourite dish of the Field Crioceris and the Twelve-spotted Crioceris.
Not even the lily-dweller, with her dirty ways, is safe. Her grub is as often the prey of another Tachina, larger than that of the Field Crioceris. The parasite, I am convinced, does not sow her eggs upon the victim so long as the latter is wrapped in its repulsive great-coat; but a moment's imprudence gives her a favourable opportunity.
An easy prey is this naked, plump, defenceless grub, snoozing in the heat of a blazing day. Various Gnats, of humble size, but very likely terribly treacherous, haunt the foliage of the asparagus. The larva of the Crioceris, motionless in its sphinx-like attitude, does not appear to be on its guard against them, even when they come buzzing above its rump.
When everything seems to foretell a quiet life, a pigmy among pigmies appears, charged with the express duty of exterminating an insect which is protected first by the casket of the berry and next by the shell, the underground work of the grub. To eat the Twelve-spotted Crioceris is its mission in life, its special function. When and how does it deliver its attack? I do not know.
The white spots sprinkled over the larva of the Crioceris were the eggs of the hateful Fly. The vermin born of those eggs have perforated the victim's paunch. By subtle wounds, which cause little pain and are almost immediately healed, they have penetrated the body, reaching the humours in which the entrails are bathed.
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