Spider Time
Well, it’s that time once again on the South End when every walk through the orchard or back in the woods or out to the outhouse is a face full of webs. Sometimes WITH the spider. Sometimes without. We don’t have enough insects to feed them all, I know that. So it worries me …. WHAT are they catching, these godzillian spiders, that they can survive and breed and return again next fall?
I had a Big Boy in my face this afternoon, dragged in along with his sticky net, crawling up my nose, past my ear and onto my hat. I tried to slap him away, I threw my hat on the ground, I reached over my shoulder … but no arachnid sightings after he’d landed. He’s probably working his 8 legged way down my skivvies, just waiting me out hoping I’ll grow complacent, then CHOMP, some fanged bite that will grow infected, knock me back, fester, then ultimately kill me faster than Ebola. He’ll roll me up in a gauzy nightmare cocoon, chow down on me over the winter, snack when he’s hungry, take me to potlucks, who the hell knows?
Sometimes when the fog is thick and the sun is struggling to break through, you can look across the nettle savannah and every stalk, every stinging leaf is enmeshed in a dewy glisten of web. No bug has a prayer. Not one chance in hell. The spider’s rule.
I only hope they DO find enough to eat. The last thing in this carniverous world I want is some evolutionary leap forward where the webs are strong as Velcro and the arachnids are the size of pitbulls. I like being on the top of the Food Chain. I sure don’t want a predator scarier than an ISIS terrorist. Not in my backyard. On my side of the border.
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