This species soon became very common, and for two weeks scarcely a morning passed without our finding at least one newly–made nest. The study of clypeata, however, consumes a great deal of time. For example, we found, one morning, two nests within six inches of each other. It turned out afterward that these were inhabited by two different wasps; but at the moment we supposed that one of them had been dug and deserted and then a second one made, and wishing to know which one was occupied we resolved to watch and see. After waiting for three hours we saw one wasp returning; but upon noticing us she veered off and began to circle about. She was heavily laden, and her burden, instead of being supported by the second pair of legs, as is sometimes the case, hung down under the thorax and abdomen. After a moment she alighted on a plant near by, and seemed to consider the situation, then circled a little more, and flew away, remaining out of sight for fifteen minutes, then another return, more circlings and hesitations. She seemed to feel the weight of the beetle now, and alighted frequently on the ground and walked about; yet she would not go in, so reluctant was she to betray her nest. In this way she kept us waiting for a whole hour, although we were not very near to her, and were as still as statues. At last we retreated, and stood as far back as we could and still keep the hole in view. She now came closer, and, after hanging poised on her wings for a moment, dropped into her nest.
We once found a nest of this species in process of construction. A large heap of fresh earth had been pushed out, which entirely covered the spot; but at intervals there were upheavals from below which betrayed the presence of the wasp. When we saw it first it was half past eight o’clock, and we judged, from what had been accomplished, that she must have been at work at least an hour. It was half past nine before the excavation was complete. We had not been certain, up to this time, as to what we were watching; but now we had the pleasure of seeing her open her doorway from below and stand in the entrance while she washed her face with her fore feet, like a cat. When they rest at the mouth of the hole the first legs, which are yellow, are bowed in a semicircle on each side of the yellow face, the distal joints being bent up so that the wasps seem to be standing on their elbows. This attitude, which is often seen in Bembex spinolæ, gives them a delightfully amusing, bow–legged appearance. They usually open their nests in the morning at about nine o’clock,—a little earlier or later according to the time at which the sun strikes the spot. Then they spend from forty minutes to an hour in taking a survey, the least movement on the part of a watcher causing them to drop out of sight as if the earth had given way beneath them. Sometimes there is a little way–station an inch or two within the tunnel, and the wasp falls back only to this point, and here she may be seen, if one peeps in cautiously, either quietly awaiting the retreat of the intruder, or, perhaps, performing her toilet in a leisurely and elegant manner.