The prey is first attacked in the neck. While one of the two lethal legs holds the victim transfixed through the middle of the body, the other presses the head and makes the neck open upwards. The Mantis’ muzzle roots and nibbles at this weak point in the armour with some persistency. A large wound appears in the head. The Locust gradually ceases kicking and becomes a lifeless corpse; and, from this moment, freer in its movements, the carnivorous insect picks and chooses its morsel. This preliminary gnawing of the neck is too regular an occurrence to be purposeless. Let us indulge in a digression which will tell us more about it. In June I often find on the lavender in the enclosure two small Crab Spiders (Thomisus onustus, Walck., [31] and T. rotundatus, Walck.). One is satin-white and has pink and green rings round her legs; the other is inky-black and has an abdomen encircled with red with a foliaceous central patch. They are pretty Spiders, both of them, and they walk sideways, after the manner of Crabs. They do not know how to weave a hunting-net; the little silk which they possess is reserved exclusively for the downy satchel containing the eggs. Their plan of campaign therefore is to lie in ambush on the flowers and to fling themselves unexpectedly on the quarry when it arrives on pilfering intent. Their favourite prey is the Hive-bee. I often come upon them with their prize, at times grabbed by the neck and at others by any part of the body, even the tip of a wing. In each and every case the Bee is dead, with her legs hanging limply and her tongue out. The poison-fangs planted in the neck set me thinking; I see in them a characteristic remarkably like the practice of the Mantis when starting on her Locust. And then arises another question: how does the weak Spider, who is vulnerable in every part of her soft body, manage to get hold of a prey like the Bee, stronger than herself, quicker in movement and armed with a sting that can inflict a mortal wound? The difference in physical strength and force of arms between assailant and assailed is so very great that a contest of this kind seems impossible unless some netting intervene, some silken toils that can shackle and bind the formidable creature. The contrast would be no more intense were the Sheep to take it into her head to fly at the Wolf’s throat. And yet the daring attack takes place and victory goes to the weaker, as is proved by the numbers of dead Bees whom I see sucked for hours by the Thomisi. The relative weakness must be made good by some special art; the Spider must possess a strategy that enables her to surmount the apparently insurmountable difficulty. To watch events on the lavender-borders would expose me to long, fruitless waits. It is better myself to make the preparations for the duel. I place a Thomisus under a cover with a bunch of lavender sprinkled with a few drops of honey. Some three or four live Bees complete the establishment.