September 19th, 2004
|12:33 am - creepy crawly posty post|
If you're ever so slightly arachnophobic then you may not want to glance upwards at the light fixtures when walking on the platform of the Wellington T stop. The entire station is home to a veritable city of big spiders growing fat on the late summer gnats which infest the area. The little tram that runs between the station and the parking garage is also covered on the outside with them big webspinners, who must delight in having their web fly into the gnats instead of the other way around.
I had a creepy good time Friday night watching the spiders at work; there's at least three or four big-bellied critters in each working light alcove. I'm a reformed arachnophobe; I used to hate all forms of spiders but have steadily grown to enjoy what they do. Being so close to these ones without the safety of glass or even big cans of Raid was both thrilling and unnerving. I laughed at a little fly buzzing around my head. I told it that it was not long for this world but it did not heed my warnings and instead flew up towards the light and into the web of the biggest spider, which then savagely plucked the longitudinal strands of its web, one by one, to figure out which section had ensnared the prisoner. Then it suddenly dropped a few inches off the web and swung up towards the insect's location, carefully embracing it with quickly wibbling legs (these spiders are the kinds with obscenely bulbous bodies and thin, spindly legs. I don't know which legs are worse on spiders, the thin spindly kind or the fat hairy kind. Both can be equally creepy.)
Then the spider dropped down several inches again, coming perilously close to the top of my head and then seemed to wind itself up on its own web strand. I didn't see its little legs moving as it just zoomed back up to the center of the web. There it deposited the wrapped fly with the others and resumed skulking, perfectly poised in the center of the web. (The train came and I went in and sat down and itched phantom itches all over my crawling skin like crazy. It was odd.)
The best part though is getting other people to look up at the webs. Nobody realizes all the spiders up in there because, well, nobody ever looks up at the lights. But if you see someone looking up, you naturally look up, too, and -- oh my gosh there they are. Not everybody shared the grinning enthusiasm I had for the display of nature, though. Go fig.
|Date:||September 19th, 2004 10:59 am (UTC)|| |
Re: bugs bug me
I had a similar experience last year at Canobie Lake Park, when eustaciavye
and I had dinner at the lakeside pizza place they got by the, uh, lakeside.
The restaurant has big windows that overlook the lake, and each window had been taken over -- on the outside -- by a giant spider with a giant web. Each window had its own web. It was very hard to enjoy your pizza without glancing up at the spiders lurking above, but we did our best.
Similarly, a small man-made pond in the center of a residential quad at my school is, on the surface, uninteresting. I, however, have noticed on several occasions that a black-crowned night heron makes its home there every Spring. Sometimes, I'll stop and watch it for awhile just so others will notice it, too. A beautiful bird.
|Date:||September 19th, 2004 09:01 am (UTC)|| |
Adam freaks out about how many bugs there are when we go back to MA to visit. There just aren't as many of them here in the desert Southwest.
I try to explain to him that the proliferation of bugs in the NE means that none of them have had to evolve means of killing mammals for their survival. So though there are more, I don't mind them as much because I don't fear for my life when they are around.
I found a moth the size of credit card laying outside my apartment door the other day. It was quite dead, which was sad, because it was tawny brown and beatifully marked.
Of course, if it had been alive, it would have flapped its rustley paper wings near my ear and I would have freaked out and doen the dance of "OMG there's a bug near my ear."
You can just visit during the Spider-Free months, of course.
Of course. The spiders winter in Florida, just like all the old people.
No way. I *like* big and hairy 'cos you can grabs 'em and chuck 'em out of the window. Spindly is, like, way worse because if you try to handle them you end up with a mit full of twitchy spider legs, and a little pea body rolling about on the floor. And then for *weeks* afterwards every single stray hair/bit of grass/loose thread will look like an amputated spider leg and it will be BAD.
You can't blame a bug for being a bug. Just cause it freaks you out is no reason to go around spreading your twitchiness onto others (like the defenseless, tiny bugs). I'm not particurally into having them on me or near me either, but they all get put outside gently. Anyone near me heartlessly squashing other lives into oblivion gets thwoked upside the head. Hmph.
I've never seen an insect be aggresive towards a human. Not counting mosquitoes (who are excused, in my book, since they are only trying to feed their babies). Well, I guess that's different then, isn't it? Humble appologies. The rest of you still get thwocked! Mwah-Ha-Ha!
|Date:||October 5th, 2004 07:23 pm (UTC)|| |
spiders to cool
Spiders rule- I have a spider that regularly spins its web on the wing mirror of my car. Its home is somewhere in the the actual fitting of said wing mirror. The thing that I admire about it is that every week i wash my car, its webbing is destroyed outta sight, but the little critter just builds himself another one by the following day perhaps oneday believing that it won't have to spin another one. This is a lesson in life; when you get knocked down, just keep on gettin up again. laters dude