Nothing of an animal nature comes amiss to them, and if they cannot capture living prey, they will make a hearty meal off carrion. This is an advantage to us, for we may feed our captives with dead insects or with small pieces of meat.

This Beetle is about an inch long, and of a deep dull black colour. The head is joined to the thorax by a distinct neck, and the abdomen is naked, owing to the fact that the wing-cases are very short. Its wing-cases bear about the same proportion to those of the Margined Water Beetle that a man’s frock-coat bears to a boy’s Eton jacket. And this Beetle may be taken as a good type of a group—the Beetles with short wing-cases (Brachel´ytra).

The attitude of this animal when irritated or alarmed is well depicted in Fig. 31. It raises its head menacingly and opens its strong mandibles to their full extent, at the same time turning up the end of the abdomen, like a scorpion about to sting. From the last segment it will often put forth a pair of white vesicles, from which is discharged a volatile liquid of disagreeable odour, that probably acts as a defence against insect-eating creatures.

The best way to capture one of these Beetles is to pick it up with what Kirby calls the ‘natural forceps’—the finger and thumb. It may be dropped into any convenient receptacle; the small metal boxes in which vestas are sold will answer the purpose very well.

My specimen was given me by a friend, who kept it with another in a round tin box. It lived with me for about three months in a four-ounce bottle, that measured three inches in height, to the neck, and two inches in diameter. The bottom was covered to the depth of about an inch with garden soil, and the top tightly corked, to prevent the prisoner’s escape. This precaution was necessary; for the inside of the bottle, though cleaned from time to time, soon became covered with a coating of earthy particles, which afforded the Beetle a pretty firm foothold.

It was an extremely interesting pet, and its struggles to escape by climbing up the sides of the bottle often afforded me much entertainment. It seemed to have a glimmering notion that the only way out was by the top, and knowing nothing of the cork it would rear itself up against the side, and try to climb up by vigorous movements of its fore-legs. It would also take advantage of any little lump of earth projecting about the rest. It had not intelligence enough to make anything like a mound for itself, though the inequalities were probably the result of its burrowing under the surface. Its temper was none of the best, for if it was disturbed with the forceps it would resent it fiercely. The mandibles would be opened, the abdomen curled up, and out would come the two vesicles as a means of defence. If the forceps were put near the mandibles, they would be seized, and the Beetle would hold on so tenaciously that it has often been lifted out of its bottle in this fashion.

It was exceedingly voracious, and was generally fed on garden worms. After a full meal its increase in size was very evident. This is not to be taken to mean that insects grow after they have attained the perfect or imago state, for this is not the case. But when they have had a long fast, the segments approach each other, and are forced apart when the creature is gorged with food. If a Beetle of this species were kept fasting for some days, and then carefully measured, and measured again after being plentifully supplied with worms or flies, there would be a difference of some millimetres between the results.

Dallas has an interesting passage in his Elements of Entomology respecting the boldness of the larval form, which is worth quoting. ‘I have seen one engaged in a struggle, which lasted about twenty minutes, with a worm of some five inches in length, the larva being scarcely more than an inch long. During this contest the little savage crept under the worm, fixing his mandibles into the creature’s body in various places, each bite apparently producing a considerable swelling. Sometimes he would fasten upon the head of the worm, and retain his hold with the pertinacity of a thoroughbred bulldog, although twisted about in every direction by the struggles of his intended victim. At last, however, he seemed to come to the conclusion that he had been too ambitious in his desires, and went quietly off amongst the grass, rather prematurely, as it seemed to me, for when the worm began slowly to leave the field of battle, about an inch of his tail was attached to the rest of his body solely by the intestine, a union which the jaws of the larva would easily have dissolved.’

I have never seen a fight between a larva and a worm, for the few larva I have kept have been fed on flies. But the adult Beetle which has once fastened on a worm cannot be shaken off. It will grip its prey with the first pair of legs, fixing the claws in the skin, and will finish a worm three inches long at a meal.

A dead specimen should be looked over in the way recommended for Dytiscus, raising the small wing-covers and unfolding the wings. The spiracles are to be looked for at the sides of the abdomen, in the groove formed by the meeting of the upper and under plates of each segment. The short downy hair with which the body is covered should be noticed, and the front legs are well worth examination. The tibia or shank is armed with a strong spine, and between this part of the leg and that which follows it is a notch, through which the Beetle passes its antennae to clean them from dirt. The peculiar shape of the joints of the tarsus or foot is very plainly discernible with the appliances at our command, and by a careful management we may make out the different kinds of hairs with which four out of the five of these joints are furnished; some stout and spine-like, others finer, ending in a pear-shaped bulb. These last probably serve the same purpose as the sucking-disks of Dytiscus and the tarsal plates of Hydrophilus.