If the Scorpion attacks the Lycosa, who would be capable of making a serious defence were she to rush upon the enemy, instead of proudly standing with her breast uncovered, what will be the fate of the meek Epeiræ?[1] All, even the largest, the Angular, the Banded, and the Silky Epeira, are fiercely attacked, all the more since these poor spinners, demoralized by fear, do not even try to fling their hanks of cord, which so promptly paralyse the assailant. In their webs, with a lavish discharge of snares, they would master the ferocious Mantis,[2] the formidable Hornet, or the big Locust, that expert kicker. Away from their own homes, faced by an enemy and not a victim, they utterly forget their potent methods of binding the foe. When stung, they all instantly succumb, struck dead like the Lycosa; [[58]]and the Scorpion feasts upon them.
Under the stone, the Spider-lover never meets the Lycosa or the Epeiræ, who frequent other regions; but he may, at long intervals, find other Spiders, addicted like himself to sheltering in rocky refuges, and notably the timid Clotho.[3] He is therefore pretty familiar with this sort of game, and any fair-sized Spider suits him, provided that he be hungry.
I suspect him of being by no means indifferent to the capture of a Praying Mantis, another highly meritorious dish. Certainly he does not go in search of her on the bushes, the usual resort of this ravenous insect: his means of climbing, which are excellently adapted to scaling a wall, would never permit him to walk on the wavering support of the leaves. He must strike when the mother is pregnant, towards the end of the summer. As a matter of fact, I fairly often find the nest of the Praying Mantis fastened to the lower surface of the lumps of stone haunted by the Scorpion.
The highwayman may make his approach, [[59]]in quest of victuals, on a peaceful night, just when the labouring mother is whipping the froth of her egg-filled casket.[4] What happens then I have never witnessed; probably I never shall: it would be asking too much of luck. Let us fill the gap by artificial means.
In the cock-pit of an earthenware dish, I provoke a duel between a Scorpion and a Mantis, both selected of a good size. If necessary, I stimulate them, urge them to the encounter. I already know that not all the blows of the tail take effect: very often they are mere raps on the head. Sparing of his poison and scorning to sting when there is no pressing need, the Scorpion repels the intruder with a sudden back stroke of the tail, without using the needle. In our various experiments we will count only the blows which draw blood in proof that the sting has penetrated.
When seized with the tweezers, the Mantis instantly adopts the spectral attitude,[5] with the saw-toothed legs open and the wings displayed like an heraldic crest. [[60]]This scare-crow attitude, so far from succeeding, makes the attack all the easier: the sting plunges into the base, between the two lethal limbs, and lingers for some time in the wound. When it is withdrawn, there is still a drop of poison oozing at the tip.
Then and there the Mantis draws up her legs in the throes of death. The belly heaves, the caudal appendages wave by fits and starts, the tarsi give faint quivers. On the other hand, the lethal legs, the antennæ, and the mouth-parts are motionless. This condition is followed, in less than fifteen minutes, by complete inertia.
The Scorpion does not think out his blows; he strikes at random any point within reach. This time he has stabbed a part which is eminently vulnerable, because of the proximity of the principal nerve-centres; he has stung the Mantis in the breast, between the lethal legs, precisely where the Mantis-killing Tachytes[6] wounds her victim with the object of paralysing it. The act is fortuitous and not intentional: the lout is not an expert anatomist like the Wasp. As luck [[61]]would have it, death was instantaneous. What would happen if the sting were delivered in another, less dangerous part of the body?
I change the operator, to make sure that the poison-phial is charged. I shall take the same precaution in the various subsequent encounters: each fresh victim will have a fresh executioner, whose full powers have been restored by a long rest.
The Mantis, another powerful matron, stands half-erect, turns her head[7] and looks at him warily over her shoulder. She assumes her spectral attitude, with puffing sounds produced by rubbing the wings together. Her boldness at first succeeds: she manages to seize her adversary’s tail with her toothed fore-arms. As long as she holds tight, the Scorpion is disarmed and unable to hurt her.