After exuviation, the owner of the cast skin, exhausted by its violent struggles, which are not unfrequently fatal, lies in a prostrate condition. Instead of being covered by a hard shell, its integument is soft and flabby, like wet paper; though Réaumur remarks, that if a crayfish is handled immediately after exuviation, its body feels hard; and he ascribes this to the violent contraction which its muscles have undergone, leaving them in a state of cramp. In the absence of the hard skeleton, however, there is nothing to bring the contracted muscles at once back into position, and it must be some time before the pressure of the internal fluids is so distributed as to stretch them out. When the process of exuviation has proceeded so far {36} that the carapace is raised, nothing stops the crayfish from continuing its struggles. If taken out of the water in this condition, they go on moulting in the hand, and even pressure on their bodies will not arrest their efforts. The length of time occupied from the first giving way of the integuments to the final emergence of the animal, varies with its vigour, and the conditions under which it is placed, from ten minutes to several hours. The chitinous lining of the stomach, with its teeth, and the “crabs’-eyes,” are shed along with the rest of the cuticular exoskeleton; but they are broken up and dissolved in the stomach. The new integuments of the crayfish remain soft for a period which varies from one to three days; and it is a curious fact, that the animal appears to be quite aware of its helplessness, and governs itself accordingly. An observant naturalist says: “I once had a domesticated crayfish (_Astacus fluviatilis_), which I kept in a glass pan, in water, not more than an inch and a half deep, previous experiment having shown that in deeper water, probably from want of sufficient aëration, this animal would not live long. By degrees my prisoner became very bold, and when I held my fingers at the edge of the vessel, he assailed them with promptness and energy. About a year after I had him, I perceived, as I thought, a second crayfish with him. On examination, I found it to be his old coat, which he had left in a most perfect state. My friend had now lost his heroism, and {37} fluttered about in the greatest agitation. He was quite soft; and every time I entered the room during the next two days, he exhibited the wildest terror. On the third, he appeared to gain confidence, and ventured to use his nippers, though with some timidity, and he was not yet quite so hard as he had been. In about a week, however, he became bolder than ever; his weapons were sharper, and he appeared stronger, and a nip from him was no joke. He lived in all about two years, during which time his food was a very few worms at very uncertain times; perhaps he did not get fifty altogether.”[3] [3] The late Mr. Robert Ball, of Dublin, in Bell’s “British Crustacea,” p. 239.