her glass prison; then, perceiving a burrow similar to that of her family, she enters it without much hesitation.  She is extremely ill-advised:  while she goes down, the Spider comes up; and the meeting takes place in the perpendicular passage.  For a few moments, the ear perceives a sort of death-song:  it is the humming of the Bumble-bee, protesting against the reception given her.  This is followed by a long silence.  Then I remove the bottle and dip a long-jawed forceps into the pit.  I withdraw the Bumble-bee, motionless, dead, with hanging proboscis.  A terrible tragedy must have happened.  The Spider follows, refusing to let go so rich a booty.  Game and huntress are brought to the orifice.  Sometimes, mistrustful, the Lycosa goes in again; but we have only to leave the Bumble-bee on the threshold of the door, or even a few inches away, to see her reappear, issue from her fortress and daringly recapture her prey.  This is the moment:  the house is closed with the finger, or a pebble and, as Baglivi says, ‘captatur tamen ista a rustico insidiatore,’ to which I will add, ‘adjuvante Bombo.’ {7}

The object of these hunting methods was not exactly to obtain Tarantulae; I had not the least wish to rear the Spider in a bottle.  I was interested in a different matter.  Here, thought I, is an ardent huntress, living solely by her trade.  She does not prepare preserved foodstuffs for her offspring; {8} she herself feeds on the prey which she catches.  She is not a ‘paralyzer,’ {9} who cleverly spares her quarry so as to leave it a glimmer of life and keep it fresh for weeks at a time; she is a killer, who makes a meal off her capture on the spot.  With her, there is no methodical vivisection, which destroys movement without entirely destroying life, but absolute death, as sudden as possible, which protects the assailant from the counter-attacks of the assailed.

Her game, moreover, is essentially bulky and not always of the most peaceful character.  This Diana, ambushed in her tower, needs a prey worthy of her prowess.  The big Grasshopper, with the powerful jaws; the irascible Wasp; the Bee, the Bumble-bee and other wearers of poisoned daggers must fall into the ambuscade from time to time.  The duel is nearly equal in point of weapons.  To the venomous fangs of the Lycosa the Wasp opposes her venomous stiletto.  Which of the two bandits shall have the best of it?  The struggle is a hand-to-hand one.  The Tarantula has no secondary means of defence, no cord to bind her victim, no trap to subdue her.  When the Epeira, or Garden Spider, sees an insect entangled in her great upright web, she hastens up and covers the captive with corded meshes and silk ribbons by the armful, making all resistance impossible.  When the prey is solidly bound, a prick is carefully administered with the poison-fangs; then the Spider retires, waiting for the death-throes to calm down, after which the huntress comes back to the game.  In these conditions, there is no serious danger.