This is just a little side note
on my love/hate relationship with our
arachnid.. um.. not friends, so let's just say
'my love/hate relationship with arachnids'.
I never had a problem with them
until I reached adulthood.
A bite from a Brown Recluse
and another horrible bite from a mystery spider
squashed my ability to cope reasonably.
Then there was an apartment I had where
some type of wolf spider/recluse
looking spiders would crawl on me at night.
That really did it.
For years I have had a strict policy
and have wanted to make a sign to hang by the
front and back doors informing all spiders that
they are making a concious choice to cross
the threshold with the understanding that if I see them,
they will die.
But spiders don't read.
But in the past few years I have mellowed,
at least towards some types of spiders.
I like garden spiders, the yellow and black writing spiders,
and protect and encourage them.
I like my porch spiders, the ones that hang
in the corners and eat the bugs and moths
that circle the porchlight.
I like wolf spiders that hang on the edges
of the porch and also eat bugs and moths..
the ones that have circled one too many times
and crash and burn in a dizzy plummet.
I feed my porch spiders. If I can catch a moth,
then I will toss it into their webs.
This brings me joy.
I like the fat red and brown
garden spiders that build their webs
on the OUTSIDE of my kitchen windows.
I leave the light burning in the kitchen
in the evening to draw bugs to them.
They get huge by late fall.. Bigger than quarters.
And they understand that they are
best only seen in the evenings.
I do not know where they go during daylight hours,
but they are not where I can see them.
And this year I am allowing
the furry black and white jumping spiders
to inhabit my kitchen.
I even swept around one the other day.
I have a particularily large one
that hangs out by the compost bucket on the counter.
He hunts fruit flies and I am ok with that.
So I have come to realize that I like
black and white, furry, friendly
looking jumping spiders.
And I like garden and porch spiders.
And I like wolf spiders that live outside.
And when I lived in the mountains
I could even goggle in awe at the fishing spiders
(think wolf spider about the size of a taratula)
The darn things take your breath
away when you see them.
And they are big enough that you can feel
their presence.. their sentience.. shudder.
They look back at you.
What I do NOT like are the skinny
looking wolf spider/recluse looking
things that inhabit the house from time to time.
You know them.
They are the ones in your bathtub
in the morning and the ones that
you see zipping across the bedroom
floor just before you reach to turn out the light.
Those are the ones that I do not like.
I don't know what they are.
Are they harmless wolfs
or are they the dreaded recluses?
Who's to know without picking one up
and looking closely.. and that ain't happening.
And I do not like the grey ,alien looking,
long legged, blobular body,
spin around in circles so fast
you can't see them spiders
that get in the upper corners.
I hate those things.. yuck.
They don't look right.
But I don't mind the little corner spiders
in the house that are round bodied and small and boring.
Now I am a strong, capable woman that is
not phased by much in life.
I drove a cab - nightshift,
I lived in very seedy neighbors
in a dangerous city (rent was sooo cheap)
I went head to head with crazy,
whacked out street bums with no problem
and I managed lions
and tigers and rhinos and angry apes.
All of these things I can take on with nary a tremor.
But OMG!! Camel Crickets
make me scream like a 50's housewife.
You know them, but perhaps by another name
.. cave crickets, maybe.
They are huge and pale with those long pointy legs
that jut up from their bulbous bodies.. eeeeeeep!
Mostly one would find them in basements or garages
or other dark, damp places.
But sometimes.. sometimes...
they come inside and up to where the people dwell.
And if you try to stomp on them...
they jump AT you and if they land ON you
they STICK to you. EEEEEEEPPPP!!
If I try to stomp one and it comes towards me
I squeal. I shriek.
Not a womanly strong scream,
but a high pitched
squeal, a shrill squeak of ultimate terror.
I couldn't make that noise
if I tried at any other time,
but it pours forth
from my stress tightened throat
the minute that it charges at me.
I swear I would climb on a chair
if it were quicker than running away.
I feel helpless. I feel beaten and less of a woman
in the face of a camel cricket.
But I like spiders...