the spider’s secret; an homage to the weaver
I’ve never been a fan of spiders. Not even close.
Leary and respectful of snakes and bees. Still resentful of ticks. But spiders... so jumpy and quick with all those legs. And I don't know anyone who likes a face full of web.
the weaver
I developed a new perspective one afternoon while staring out from my home office window. I noticed a web in the corner of the porch railing and at the very edge a spider. About the size of a half dollar from leg tip to tip, a little over an inch across.
In this age of contactless payment and bitcoin, does anyone remember half dollars?
The spider was in the process of spinning a web and in real time I watched an intricate dance confined to an area about 2 square feet. Now several minutes in and committed to the performance, I saw the web shudder and holes appeared as rain began to fall. Another and another hit the web, then the spider began to move quickly over its creation and the strands disappeared.
‘don’t judge a spider by it’s web. it may be a really nice spider, but just have bad taste in web design’
Turns out, silk is made of a valuable nutrient protein and by recycling their web, the spider saves time and energy by not having to produce silk from scratch. This also allows them to remove debris and repair damage to make sure the web is strong and effective at catching prey. Learning something new, I paid close attention to the web and observed the same actions over the next several days… build a web, eat the web, then recycle it during the peak prey times.
Work required quite a bit of travel during that time and after being away for two or three days, I found myself back in the office chair looking out onto the porch. There was my spider friend, working on a web that appeared full and almost ready for an active bug evening. Enjoying the symmetry of the web, I mentally greeted my arachnid friend.
I slowly cleared my desk pondering the significance of our own personal webs… those we create and those that bind us. Glancing up to confirm a cloudless evening with little chance of damaging rain, I returned my gaze to watch the show.
It was at that moment; I noticed a plump blue jay land on the railing. In one quick and fluid movement the bird hopped down, ate the spider and flew away.
I wasn’t trapped by a sticky web and it wasn’t a love for insects that made me sad that evening. I cared because I knew a little more. A glimmer of understanding that came from witnessing the struggle and pattern of life, even for a few short days. That connection had me rooting for the spider.
“the spiders web is a fragile thing. easily broken by a strong wind or careless touch… a reminder to cherish our fragile lives and relationships”
Full disclosure, I’m also fond of blue jays… just not that day
questions, comments, or clarifications?
