I serve a Great Peacock, fresh from the cocoon. The Gold Beetle does not make a fierce rush for the magnificent titbit. He approaches warily at intervals, trying to nibble at the abdomen. But, at the first touch of the mandibles, the Moth grows excited, beats the ground with her wide wings and, with a sudden flap, hurls the aggressor to a distance. Attack is impossible with such game as this, for ever fluttering and giving vigorous jerks. I cut off the big Moth’s wings. The assailants are soon on the spot. There are seven of them tugging and biting the cripple’s belly. The down flies off in tufts, the skin breaks and the seven Beetles besetting the quarry dive into the entrails. It is like a pack of Wolves devouring a horse. In a little while the Great Peacock is eviscerated. The Carabus has no particular liking for the Snail (Helix aspersa) so long as he remains intact. I place two in the midst of my Beetles, whom a couple of days’ fasting has rendered more than usually enterprising. The molluscs are ensconced within their shells; and these are stuck into the sand of the cage mouth upwards. The Carabi come up and stop for a moment, in turns; they taste the slime and at once go away in disgust, without insisting further. Slightly bitten here and there, the Snail foams by driving out the small reserve of air contained in his pulmonary sac. This viscous froth constitutes his protection. The passing Beetle who takes a modest mouthful of this retires forthwith, not caring to dig any more. The foamy covering is highly effective. I leave the two Snails all day in the presence of the famished Beetles. No disaster befalls them. Next morning I find them as fresh and fit as before. To save the Carabus from that odious froth, I lay bare the two molluscs over an expanse as wide as my thumb-nail, removing a fragment of the shell in the region of the pulmonary sac. The attack now becomes prompt and persistent. Five or six Gold Beetles at a time take their stands around the breach that lays bare the non-slimy flesh. There would be more of them if there were room for a greater number, for some eager Carabi arrive who try to slip in between the occupants. Above the breach a sort of scrimmage forms, in which those nearest the victim dig and uproot its flesh, while the others look on or steal a bit from their neighbour’s lips. In one afternoon, the Snail is emptied almost to the bottom of his spiral.