So there we were, Steve, Matt, Ken and myself were coming home from the Hobbit one warm May evening after a light celebration of Steve's birthday. As we were completing the inevitable crawl back to me and Matt's house for inevitable after pub drinks (Steve got wine from people for his birthday) we stopped suddenly. It appears Steve had kicked something in the face. Matt bent down and saw that it was a stag beetle.
The stag beetle was taken home with it's fork like feet firmly attached to Matt's hands and was thereby dubbed His Royal Highness the Prince of Cuddles in the memory of our yet to be purchased ferrets. Seemingly unresponse to most form of stimuli, incense smoke seemed to be the only thing that perked him up. Since none of us were coleopterists, we had no idea if this was a good or bad thing.
He was kept for a day or two in a pint glass stuffed full of lettuce, figuring him to be a herbivore. He promptly escaped leaving the lettuce untouched. Luckily Matt found him close to his tiny see-through prison and we decided that it would be best for him to let him go. After taking lots of photos.
We'll miss you HRH...
P.S. We don't know whether it was because Steve kicked him in the face or whether stag beetles are just shit, but his pincers were rubbish, causing no feeling in the fingers other than a light pinch.