Homewrecker

Arachnophobes, do not scroll down.
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There—now that THEY'VE left, lets talk about spiders.

Anyone who's spent September in rural Western Washington will know our good friend the wolf spider—weaver of webs, catcher of flies, obstructor of bridlepaths. I rode this week through a good 80 or 90 webs, I'm sure, and it's not through any lack of respect for the careful builders who made them. It's just that they're RIGHT there, strung across the trail like finish ribbons marking every meter successfully traveled.

I'm told that many spiders build a new web daily, and so I try not to lose sleep. After all, if it's something they're good at, and something they enjoy, perhaps making a new web because the neighborhood mule went and trashed their old one is their spidery idea of a good time. Perhaps it's the arachnid equivalent of a nice roll in the pasture. What does bother me, though, is stealing their bagged groceries. Leaving the webs in tatters, and the residents scrambling into the shrubbery for dear life, is one thing. Making off with their prepared meals, each one an intombed insect as carefully packaged as a take-out burrito—now that's just mean. I can't help it, though, if spiderfood is sticky. Much as FarmWife goes to work with hay on her sweater, in her hair, and under her collar, I come home with mummified mosquitos under my breastplate, swaddled gnats on my knees, and well-wrapped wasps across my breast.  It is not my fault.

Spiders don't give me the heeby-jeebies, in case you hadn't guessed, and FarmWife rather likes them, too. Neither of us, thought, are wild about mosquitos and flies, and FarmWife has a particular fear of maggots. Maggots in numbers, in fact, can make her jump up and down and scream like a little girl.

I'll bet a wolf spider would eat a maggot if he could.

FB