when the Spider enters the perpendicular tunnel: if she saw me, she would
let go the bait and slip down again. I thus bring her, by degrees, to
the orifice. This is the difficult moment. If I continue the gentle
movement, the Spider, feeling herself dragged out of her home, would at
once run back indoors. It is impossible to get the suspicious animal out
by this means. Therefore, when it appears at the level of the ground, I
give a sudden pull. Surprised by this foul play, the Tarantula has no
time to release her hold; gripping the spikelet, she is thrown some
inches away from the burrow. Her capture now becomes an easy matter.
Outside her own house, the Lycosa is timid, as though scared, and hardly
capable of running away. To push her with a straw into a paper bag is
the affair of a second.

It requires some patience to bring the Tarantula who has bitten into the
insidious spikelet to the entrance of the burrow. The following method
is quicker: I procure a supply of live Bumble-bees. I put one into a
little bottle with a mouth just wide enough to cover the opening of the
burrow; and I turn the apparatus thus baited over the said opening. The
powerful Bee at first flutters and hums about her glass prison; then,
perceiving a burrow similar to that of her family, she enters it without
much hesitation. She is extremely ill-advised: while she goes down, the
Spider comes up; and the meeting takes place in the perpendicular
passage. For a few moments, the ear perceives a sort of death-song: it
is the humming of the Bumble-bee, protesting against the reception given
her. This is followed by a long silence. Then I remove the bottle and
dip a long-jawed forceps into the pit. I withdraw the Bumble-bee,
motionless, dead, with hanging proboscis. A terrible tragedy must have
happened. The Spider follows, refusing to let go so rich a booty. Game
and huntress are brought to the orifice. Sometimes, mistrustful, the
Lycosa goes in again; but we have only to leave the Bumble-bee on the