IMPERFECT WEBS
Rex Burress
Although I'm usually watching the river, one day I was in the bathroom watching a long-legged spider trying to climb up a slick tile.
When it lost its grip and fell to the floor, I thought of those climbers in Yosemite scaling El Capitan and saved from a fall only by safety ropes. “Imperfection exists in everything,” I thought. But the inspired contestants of life get up and try again. So it was with the spider. It connected with a web it was weaving in the corner-- a fruitless endeavor unless a rare fly enters the house.
The cobweb was imperfect, too, when compared with a circular orb weaver's net, and even that artfully constructed masterpiece has a few imperfections of slipped strands or insect tangles. The house spider and daddy-long-legs weave cobweb lines spun randomly, leaving a jumbled web that they somehow are able to ascend without getting stuck.
To err is animal, and although elaborate detection systems are contrived in clever designs of spiders, mistakes are made and flies, especially, become victims of the web. A large insect will blast right through the web and imperfect repairs are patched onto the strands.
During the heat of August when flowers are scarce in the dry rustling meadows and finding photogenic subjects is a challenge, spider webs drape the silent stalks in profusion, providing some artistry for determined photographers. The best laid schemes of mice, men...and spiders...are oft led astray however, and unsuccessful snares become abandoned hopes.
There are more webs in the woods than visible spiders it seems, but if you're persistent and inspect the hidden hideouts, a variety of interesting arachnids becomes apparent. You can study the spiders and try to determine the species, or you can try to maneuver in close with your camera and take a picture.
It's a chore to wiggle through the spiny stems and seed stickers to find a subject, and sometimes dramatic dew is hanging around, so wearing a wet suit is practical for the entomologist, and an armor suit would help to repel the stabbing spines. Of course, the nature student should have hat, backpack, magnifying glass, binoculars, and field guides, and behave with zest! The antics of an explorer or artist can bring on the First Responders!
The funnel-web spider plasters a sheet of web on the ground and hides in a hole near the center, alertly rushing out to grab a victim when its stuck in the threads. Their encroachments are spread on the high bank near the Feather River Nature Center, glowing like flashy pages in some leaf-torn book, each entrapment laid out in hopes of catching food fulfillment!
Nearly all spiders have venom, just as nearly all have ability to spin web, although ground hunting species may not show web as a trap, but most spider venom is ineffective on humans.
Web is to a spider what ropes are to a cowboy! The silken strands are strung throughout the summer fields and in every byway-- and even your house can become encased in entanglements like a tangled netting on fishing shores. Take a look at a spider book to see a sampling of 30,000 species that have been named so far. The Golden Guide will do for a starter.
Spider silk is a chemical creation, fed out of the back-end spigots as a liquid and instantly hardening into a fibrous protein delicately controlled by the web-maker. Spiders seem able to produce as much as they need without depleting their strength, an amazing feat for an animal that also has to contend with eight legs and the rest of the functions common to the survival of all creatures.
“Spiderlings hatch from eggs./Each one has eight tiny legs./A spider has more eyes than you./Most have eight, and you have two./A spider has two body parts./Across its web it quickly darts./From a spider's spinnerets/Sticky spider silk jets./Spiders feel the frantic tugs/Of their favorite food; it's bugs.”
“Spiders”--Janet Bruno