As I found to my cost in bygone experiments, the pine-caterpillar wields a violently corrosive poison, which produces a painful rash upon the hands.  It must therefore, one would think, form a somewhat highly seasoned diet.  The beetles, however, delight in it.  No matter how many flocks I provide them with, they are all consumed.  But no one, that I know of, has ever found the Golden Gardener and its larva in the silken cocoons of the Bombyx.  I do not expect ever to make such a discovery.  These cocoons are inhabited only in winter, when the Gardener is indifferent to food, and lies torpid in the earth.  In April, however, when the processions of larvae are seeking a suitable site for burial and metamorphosis, the Gardener should profit largely by its good fortune should it by any chance encounter them.

The furry nature of the victim does not in the least incommode the beetle; but the hairiest of all our caterpillars, the Hedgehog Caterpillar, with its undulating mane, partly red and partly black, does seem to be too much for the beetle.  Day after day it wanders about the vivarium in company with the assassins.  The latter apparently ignore its presence.  From time to time one of them will halt, stroll round the hairy creature, examine it, and try to penetrate the tangled fleece.  Immediately repulsed by the long, dense palisade of hairs, he retires without inflicting a wound, and the caterpillar proceeds upon its way with undulating mane, in pride and security.

But this state of things cannot last.  In a hungry moment, emboldened moreover by the presence of his fellows, the cowardly creature decides upon a serious attack.  There are four of them; they industriously attack the caterpillar, which finally succumbs, assaulted before and behind.  It is eviscerated and swallowed as greedily as though it were a defenceless grub.

According to the hazard of discovery, I provision my menagerie with various caterpillars, some smooth and others hairy.  All are accepted with the utmost eagerness, so long as they are of average size as compared with the beetles themselves.  If too small they are despised, as they would not yield a sufficient mouthful.  If they are too large the beetle is unable to handle them.  The caterpillars of the Sphinx moth and the Great Peacock moth, for example, would fall an easy prey to the beetle were it not that at the first bite of the assailant the intended victim, by a contortion of its powerful flanks, sends the former flying.  After several attacks, all of which end by the beetle being flung back to some considerable distance, the insect regretfully abandons his prey.  I have kept two strong and lively caterpillars for a fortnight in the cage of my golden beetles, and nothing more serious occurred.  The trick of the suddenly extended posterior was too much for the ferocious mandibles.