Pica Pole : Family welcomes visitor to front porch
Posted on Wednesday, October 1, 2008
In the past few weeks, the Marts household routine has been modified by a visitor.
The visitor has the habit of appearing each evening, showing up on the front porch looking for food.
A cat ? Nope. Although we sometimes do adopt friendly cats that for some reason choose the porch as a place to hang out.
Dog ? Nope.
Squirrels and birds frequent the landing, but neither of those is the visitor, either.
A big buck ran across the street in front of us after dark a few nights ago, but he was a few houses down, and deer generally don't hang out on porches.
Raccoons and possums do, but they scurry off when we open the door or arrive in the driveway.
This visitor hangs out without fear as we come and go. The visitor minds its own business as it waits patiently for a meal.
What could it be ?
It's a spider. An orb web spider, to be exact.
This spider picked a good spot to set up home. She started spinning her web right next to a porch light. (We call it a she, but we don't know how to determine a spider's gender: I'm sure there's a way, but I'm not privy to the knowledge. )
Anyway, the light attracts flying things, which fly into the web; the spider stands in the middle of the web, waiting to pounce. We noticed the web a few weeks ago; over time the web has grown larger and moved from one side of the doorway to the other.
Every morning we walk out to a web that's gone, and every evening we walk in to a new web.
It's been a great natural science lesson for Buck, the 7-year-old: Standing with the door open, the porch light on and the hall light off, it's easy to see the web's strands. It doesn't take long for a flying something-or-other to flutter into the web; some of the strands stick and break while other strands hold tight, effectively trapping what is soon to be a meal.
As soon as the right vibration reaches the spider, she darts to the spot: If it's a small flier, she pounces. Seconds later, the flier is wrapped in its death shroud. If it's a big flier, she darts in, bites, then backs off. After the bite does its work, she moves in, spinning the meal under her as a tiny line spews from her belly.
At some point, often not long, she's back at the shrouded meal; she bites and sucks out the juicified innards.
One way we've changed our routine is to leave the porch light on all night. We're trying to help ensure a steady stream of fliers for the web.
Another way the routine has changed is when we start to walk through the doorway: Now we look to see the web, then duck under it. The first couple of nights, Buck would howl when he'd check the spider after Jeff or I came in but forgot to duck. While that bothered Buck, the spider was not fazed: She simply went to work hanging anchor lines, then spiraling out from the center, leaving behind her tiny, deadly, silk-like strand. Within minutes the web was back, again fishing for meals. With October's chill in the air, another natural science lesson will be learned. It's the lesson of "Charlotte's Web. "One evening, there will be no spider web over the doorway. Buck knows that, and understands the life cycle of nature. Yet, it still will be a sad evening around the Marts house because we will no longer be able to marvel at the intricate beauty created nightly by something as mundane as a spider - a spider that knows nothing of its beautiful creation, or about the enjoyment she provided a species that her tiny brain cannot comprehend. How can we thank a spider for adding beauty to our lives ? I guess by leaving the light on and ducking through the doorway.
• • • Kent Marts is editor / general manager of The Benton County Daily Record. His column appears on Wednesdays. He can be reached at kentm @ nwanews. com.
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