Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
We’re cleaning up. Purging. Reducing our possessions.
I’m reaching into dark spaces in the garage not touched by humans in years. Gloves are donned. Because this is black widow country.
I don’t kill them. I want us to peacefully co-exist. But I don’t know if they got the word.
A new resident has joined us. I found this black widow living outside our bedroom slider.
The slider has a panel with a pet door affixed in place. I met her last night. Letting a cat in, I saw her skinny up a line from the door to the midpoint. Hanging there, she rotated, showing off her abs with its bold scarlet hourglass. When I brought the camera out, her shy side emerged and she shot up to her web in the corner.
I don’t know when she moved in. I chatted with her for a few seconds. She seems moody and distant.
I said, “Hi, I’m Michael.”
She studied me.
I shrugged. “New here?”
Silent staring was her response.
“So what do you do? Web designer?”
“Stay-at-home mom. Gotta go.”
She headed toward a space in the door frame, folding herself in, and pretended to sleep.
I took my photo and went away. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Maybe she’ll be friendlier next time.
To the left of the back door onto the patio is a black widow’s residence. She builds her web every night.
To the left of the back door, leaning against the wall on the patio, is our broom. Every morning, I take the broom and knock down the black widow’s web.
Last night, I went out to call a cat. Turning on the light, I saw the black widow feasting on an insect in her web.
I thought about knocking the web down, but I reconsidered. Who am I to insert myself into this process that is the foundation of nature?
I fear the black widow and her bite. I doubt she thinks about me. Regardless, this is part of our life cycle. I can’t let fear of her direct my actions. No, I’m not comfortable with it, but should my comfort decide my actions?
I let her web be.
We thought a black widow spider had started homesteading (websteading?) in the master bath. We go through these drills a few times per year. Per the household spider policy, I tried capturing it without clearly seeing it. The spider successfully retreated.
I haven’t seen it since that day. My guess is that it saw me naked and departed for somewhere else. After all, they’re more afraid of us than we are of them.
The question before the household today is, “Is the spider in the master bath a black widow?”
My wife noticed it this morning, notified me, and left. She wasn’t sure if it was a black widow.
Our basic spider policy is live and let live. However, we usually relocate black widows, if they’re in the house. I know of one that lives on the front porch, and two in the garage. I’ve not seen any of them for a while. They might have gone away on vacation. I don’t know if spiders do that, or where they go if they do. Does Disney operate a place called Spider Land, where they have little spider rides and play games, like, catch the fly?
I tried checking the spider out. A big spider, it’s down by the floor in the corner, about a foot right of where my little toe on my right foot would be when I’m shaving. Its web didn’t quite look like a black widow’s web. It was now also day, and that area is pretty lit. I don’t think those are black widow conditions, but maybe this one was a trend setter.
The light wasn’t good, and there was an issue with getting too close. The issue was that I was nervous. I enjoy an active imagination and watching movies. The product of that formula is that I worry about a spider leaping out at me, like they sometimes do in movies. If it did, it would probably land on my check, something that I didn’t favor as an outcome.
So, I couldn’t see the spider well. Well, then, I’d capture and examine it, and go from there. I got some plastic ware from the kitchen and set out on my mission. Positioning myself, I gave myself a pep talk. Be fast and sure, because it was going to run. Once I had it in the plastic, I’d need to cover it with the lid. Okay, good plan.
In position, I shoved the plastic forward.
I’d overlooked one thing: the freaking little plastic piece was too big for the space.
Naturally, I’d broken the web, alerting the spider that something big was after it. It ran for cover, dashing into a space under the sink.
Nuts.
That all happened two hours ago. Since then, I decided, aha, I’ll take a picture of it, or video. But I just checked; the spider has not re-emerged.
I’m sure there’s another act to this minor drama, but first, there’s an intermission.
Michael Seidel, writer 