inferior to the
insect. It attacks a weaker than itself. The Grasshopper, on the other
hand, assaults a colossus, much larger than herself and stronger; and
nevertheless the result of the unequal fight is not in doubt. The
Grasshopper rarely fails with the sharp pliers of her powerful jaws to
disembowel her capture, which, being unprovided with weapons, confines
itself to crying out and kicking.

The main thing is to retain one's hold of the prize, which is not
difficult in somnolent darkness. Any Cicada encountered by the fierce
Locustid on her nocturnal rounds is bound to die a lamentable death.
This explains those sudden agonized notes which grate through the woods
at late, unseasonable hours, when the cymbals have long been silent.
The murderess in her suit of apple-green has pounced on some sleeping
Cicada.

My boarders' menu is settled: I will feed them on Cicadae. They take
such a liking to this fare that, in two or three weeks, the floor of
the cage is a knacker's yard strewn with heads and empty thoraces, with
torn-off wings and disjointed legs. The belly alone disappears almost
entirely. This is the tit-bit, not very substantial, but extremely
tasty, it would seem. Here, in fact, in the insect's crop, the syrup is
accumulated, the sugary sap which the Cicada's gimlet taps from the
tender bark. Is it because of this dainty that the prey's abdomen is
preferred to any other morsel? It is quite possible.

I do, in fact, with a view to varying the diet, decide to serve up some
very sweet fruits, slices of pear, grape-bits, bits of melon. All this
meets with delighted appreciation. The Green Grasshopper resembles the
English: she dotes on underdone meat seasoned with jelly. This perhaps
is why, on catching the Cicada, she first rips up his paunch, which
supplies a mixture of flesh and preserves.

To eat Cicadae and sugar is not possible in every part of the country.
In the north, where she abounds, the Green Grasshopper would not find
the dish which attracts her so strongly here. She must have other
resources. To convince myself of this, I give her Anoxiae (A. pilosa,
Fab.), the summer equivalent of the spring Cockchafer. The Beetle is
accepted without hesitation. Nothing is left of him but the wing-cases,
head and legs. The result is the same with the magnificent plump Pine
Cockchafer (Melolontha fullo, Lin.), a sumptuous morsel which I find
next day eviscerated by my gang of knackers.

These examples teach