These proceedings are marked by extreme prudence. The assailant has to handle his victim gingerly, without provoking contractions which would make the Snail let go his support and, at the very least, precipitate him from the tall stalk whereon he is blissfully slumbering. Now any game falling to the ground would seem to be so much sheer loss, for the Glow-worm has no great zeal for hunting-expeditions: he profits by the discoveries which good luck sends him, without undertaking assiduous searches. It is essential, therefore, that the equilibrium of a prize perched on the top of a stalk and only just held in position by a touch of glue should be disturbed as little as possible during the onslaught; it is necessary that the assailant should go to work with infinite circumspection and without producing pain, lest any muscular reaction should provoke a fall and endanger the prize. As we see, sudden and profound anæsthesia is an excellent means of enabling the Lampyris to attain his object, which is to consume his prey in perfect quiet.
What is his manner of consuming it? Does he really eat, that is to say, does he divide his food piecemeal, does he carve it into minute particles, which are afterwards ground by a chewing-apparatus? I think not. I never see a trace of solid nourishment on my captives' mouths. The Glow-worm does not eat in the strict sense of the word: he drinks his fill; he feeds on a thin gruel into which he transforms his prey by a method recalling that of the maggot. Like the flesh-eating grub of the Fly, he too is able to digest before consuming; he liquefies his prey before feeding on it.
This is how things happen: a Snail has been rendered insensible by the Glow-worm. The operator is nearly always alone, even when the prize is a large one, like the Common Snail, _Helix aspersa_. Soon a number of guests hasten up--two, three or more--and, without any quarrel with real proprietor, all alike fall to. Let us leave them to themselves for a couple of days and then turn the shell, with the opening downwards. The contents flow out as easily as would soup from an overturned saucepan. When the sated diners retire from this gruel, only insignificant leavings remain.