I examine the Epeira immediately after the operation and the Tarantula when the Calicurgus drags her by one leg to her burrow, at the foot of a wall. For a little while longer, a minute at most, the Epeira convulsively moves her legs. As long as these dying quivers last, the Pompilus does not let go of her prey. She seems to be watching the progress of the paralysis. With the tip of her mandibles, she repeatedly explores the mouth of the Arachnid, as though to make sure that the poison-fangs are really harmless. Next, all becomes quiet; and the Calicurgus makes ready to drag her prey elsewhither. It is then that I take possession of it.
What strikes me first of all is the absolute inertness of the fangs, which I tickle with a straw without succeeding in rousing them from their torpor. The feelers, on the contrary, the feelers, their immediate neighbours, move backwards and forwards the moment I touch them. I put the Epeira away safely in a flask and subject her to a fresh examination a week later. Irritability has returned in part. Under the stimulus of the straw, I see the limbs move a little, especially the lower joints, legs and tarsi. The feelers are even more irritable and mobile. These various movements, however, are devoid of vigour or coordination; and the Spider cannot use them to turn herself and still less to shift her position. As for the poison-fangs, I stimulate them in vain; I do not succeed in inducing them to open, or even to move. They are, therefore, profoundly paralyzed and in a special manner. I thought as much, at the beginning, from the peculiar persistency displayed by the dart in stinging the mouth. [[167]]
At the end of September, almost a month after the operation, the Epeira is in the same condition, neither dead nor alive: the feelers still quiver at the touch of the straw; and nothing else stirs. Finally, after six or seven weeks of lethargy, real death supervenes, together with its companion, corruption.
The Tarantula of the Ringed Calicurgus, whom I steal from her owner while she is dragging her along, offers the same peculiarities for my inspection. The poison-fangs absolutely refuse to be irritated by the tickling of the straw, a fresh proof added to that of analogy to show that the Lycosa, like the Epeira, has been stung in the mouth. The feelers, on the other hand, are and for weeks remain exceedingly irritable and mobile. I insist upon this point, the interest of which will soon become apparent.
It was not possible for me to obtain a second attack from my Calicurgus Scurra: the tedium of captivity injured the exercise of her talents. Besides, the Epeira had occasionally something to say to this refusal: a certain stratagem of war twice employed before my eyes could easily rout the aggressor. Let me describe the thing, if only to raise a little in our esteem those silly Arachnids, who, provided with weapons of perfection, dare not use them against their feebler, but pluckier assailant.
The Epeira occupies the wall of the woven-wire enclosure, with her eight legs sprawling over the trellis-work; the Calicurgus moves about under the top of the dome. Panic-stricken at the sight of the enemy, the spider drops to the ground, with her belly in the air and her legs bunched up. The other goes to her, takes hold of her, examines her and places herself in a position to sting her in the mouth. But she does not unsheathe her dart. I see her leaning attentively over the poison-fangs, as though to enquire into the nature of the terrible [[168]]machinery; and then she moves away. The spider remains motionless, so much so that I believe her dead, paralyzed without my knowing it, at a moment when I was not looking. I take her out of the volery to examine her at my ease. But no sooner is she laid upon the table than she comes to life and promptly scurries away. The trickster was shamming for dead under the Calicurgus’ dagger and so artfully that I was taken in by her. She hoodwinked one cleverer than myself, the Calicurgus, who inspected her very closely and did not consider a dead body worthy of her steel. Perhaps the simpleton already noticed a “high” smell, like the bear in the fable.
This trick, if trick there be, appears to me to turn most often to the disadvantage of the Arachnid: Tarantula, Epeira or another, as the case may be. The Calicurgus, who has just thrown her on her back, after a brisk wrestling-match, knows well enough that the insect on the ground is not dead. The Spider, thinking to protect herself, shams the lifelessness of a corpse; the assailant takes advantage of this to strike her most dangerous blow, the stab in the mouth. If the poison-tipped fangs were to open then, to snap, to bite in their despair, the Calicurgus would never dare expose the tip of her stomach to their mortal sting. The pretence of death is just what causes the success of the huntress in her risky operation. We are told, O ingenuous Epeiræ, that the struggle for life counselled you to adopt that inert attitude in your own defence. Well, the struggle for life has shown herself a very bad counsellor. You would do better to believe in common sense and learn, by degrees, at your cost, that a quick parry-and-thrust, especially when your resources permit of it, is still the best way of striking awe into the enemy. [[169]]
THE OLD WEEVILS
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