Bottles and jars.
I've always enjoyed the resemblance of aquatic cannibalism of the young to mammalian pregnancy. We found a perfect, tiny flounder, swallowed and caught in the gills of a larger one. It fits in my palm, and its mouth is so small that I can barely make a puppet of it. It never touched a digestive enzyme; its condition is perfect. Quickly, someone bring me some ethanol. Why we don't yet keep a stash in the department for just this sort of discovery is beyond me.