AN INSECT PET.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]
Sin,—Your readers may possibly be interested in the habits of one of the most curious of European inieets, which I have succeeded in keeping well and lively in captivity for nearly a month already. I do not how that there is any record of a specimen surviving in this climate for more than a few days, and I have, therefore, had unusual opportunities of studying its strange peculiarities. At the beginning of September, as I was descending the Zermatt Valley, I saw from the train an odd creature on one of the supports of the Stalden Railway Station. To rush out and secure it in my pocket-handkerchief was the work of a moment. It proved to be a fine example of the praying mantis (mantis religiosa), a great insect like a bundle of bright green sticks, which gets its name from its habit of sitting upright, with its long fore-legs held before it, folded, as if in the act of prayer. It was in perfect condition, and though I had no means of attending to its comfort till we reached Teytaux, on the Lake of Geneva, it fortunately bore the long journey without any injury. Indeed so lively was it that when I released it its first act was to sit up and fight me with its pointed claws in a way which was quite alarming. In watching it carefully I found that its "praying" attitude, in which it is always pictured, is only put on when it is startled. The least sound makes it fold up its claws ready to lash out with them the moment an enemy is in view. Its temper, indeed, is very fierce, and the moment it is roused it strikes out at anything within reach; I find that it does this even at its own reflection. Experiment showed that its food is living insects ; it took greedily to spiders, flies, and moths. It will take nothing that is dead or motionless, but when its appetite is good it will eat as many as seven large flies and spiders in a cloy. Its way of devouring these is horrible, but very interesting. It waits without stirring till its victim is close to it, and then pounces on it with both forelegs at once. With the stiff claws, each terminating in a sort of long, thin finger, it catches the insect at each end and then fixes its mouth in the soft and juicy parts, sucking away with a frightful relish. The mouth is provided with a number of minute arms or tentacles, with which the food seems to be pushed inwards. These are also employed for another use, for, after each meal, the mantis has a thorough wash, wiping its claws carefully against its month till all the sharp points are perfectly clean. Then another process is gone through,— the claws are wetted at the mouth, and rubbed over the head and face, in very much the same way that a cat washes. One very curious habit is this,—If it is particularly pleased with what it is eating, it will slowly lean sideways till it drops upon its side, or even turn over until it is lying completely on its back, sucking away at its victim all the time. When it has finished its meal it remains still for a little while, and then gets up and creeps under a leaf, hanging out of sight by the tips of its claws. When it is hungry it is extremely alert, swinging its head as though on a pivot, and following its prey with its large green, glassy eyes. It is often too eager in striking wildly out, and will miss a fly a dozen times by hitting at it too soon. The mantis has two large leaf-like wings, veined, and neatly folded one over the other. Although I have carefully watched, I have never seen these wings opened or even moved. It climbs rapidly by means of its six legs, and usually, the moment it stops, takes an upright attitude on its two hind pairs of legs, with the fore-feet raised ready to strike.
My mantis is exceedingly sensitive to temperature. Cold makes it numb and takes away its desire to eat. It bore the journey home, through France and across the Channel, very well, but one cold morning since I found it lying apparently dead on the floor of its cage; but I heated the bell-glass in hot water and replaced it, upon which, almost immediately, the mantis revived, climbed up its plant, and was ready for food. I do not know that I ought to call such a ferocious creature a " pet " (it fights me furiously whenever I go near it), but its large size and lively habits make it the most in- teresting insect that I have known in private life.—I am, Sir, PHILIP HENRY GOSSE, Jun.
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