Temperatures are cooling off in Eastern
Iowa, signaling the start of the annual great spider migration into
our humble castle. The castle is currently undergoing renovations and
siding, thus disrupting the lives of all inhabitants – including
spiders. This has resulted in a drastic increase in the number of
Queen (me) V. Spider (them) throwdowns.
I am happy to report that yesterday's
incident report has me ahead 2-0. Unless you count the little black
spider near the front door, who is trying desperately to pretend he
is just another dirt speck on the wall. Then the count would be more
like 2-0-1. He is small, and plucky, and I have decided to grant him
pardon, for the time being. I am a benevolent dictator, after all.
Make no mistake. One wrong move on his
part, one sudden scurry while I am sitting on the steps tying my
shoes, and he will be spider schmear. Benevolent and mercurial.
I try to give spiders the benefit of
the doubt. I know they are an important part of the ecosystem, doing
their part to keep the insect population in check. If it appears they
are busy little bees – er, arachnids – meeting their bug-capture
quota, I typically (occasionally) leave them alone. I like to think I
only put an end to the dead weight – the slacker spiders who just
hang around in their webs waiting for their tiny, little welfare
checks to arrive. These lazy bums would probably starve to death
anyway, so really, I'm just speeding up the inevitable, letting them
die with dignity (and a crunch). Benevolent, mercurial and merciful.
For instance, right now I'm considering
a bold spider social-science experiment, which would involve intense
insect redistricting, and the busing of the aforementioned little
spider from the front door area to the kitchen window area. The ants
have established a ghetto on the window sill and are gaining a
foothold (or six) on the counter top, which has for years been an
exclusive fruit-fly resort area. The fruit-flies have attempted to
build a wall to keep the undocumented ants out, but they have the
attention span of gnats and are easily distracted by fresh fruit and
sound bites.
Yesterday's death toll was the
equivalent of spider-suicide. The creepy-crawly departed willingly
violated my second rule for peaceful spider/me co-existence: If they
don't move (there is a slight chance) I will ignore them. (Good
advice for tiny spider by the door.)
Dead Spider 1 – a fairly good-sized
brown house spider – could have lived. At first I mistook him for a
dead cricket. That is, until I flipped him over with my duster and
discovered that what I assumed was his violin and bow (Remember A
Cricket in Times Square?) was actually two additional legs.
Still, he could have survived. But no.
When I turned to get the dustpan (to facilitate the removal of his
corpse, which was not actually a corpse) he made a run for it.
Really, I had no choice. Death came swift and sure, delivered by a
carefully aimed steel-toed work boot.
Dead Spider 2 was masquerading as a
shiny green beetle, vacationing on the dryer's lint screen. (The lint
screen for goodness sake! Is nothing sacred?) He too, made a run
for it and was summarily flicked onto the floor and squashed.
Repeatedly. With enthusiasm. And swearing.
This year's infestation has been a
little unique, in that the number of spiders seems to have increased,
but the top size of the spiders has decreased (So far. Knock wood.).
In the past, there have been a few spiders I've threatened to put a
saddle on and break to lead. (They were very carefully and quickly
squashed, accompanied by much high-pitched screaming.)
I can't say as that I blame the spiders
for their nomadic tendencies. Things are pretty higglety-pigglety
here at the castle, what with all the construction, destruction, and
spiders (but mostly the spiders). I've considered packing up my web,
too. Then I consider the effort required to pack, stack, move and
unpack (and meet new spiders) and I realize I'm just too tired to
start over. Besides, I was here first and I have seniority – the
average lifespan of a house spider is only about one year. (Yes, I
Googled that as well as the spider ID and yes, I will have nightmares
for the rest of my life.)
The sheer number of spiders this year
(inside and out) has lead me to consider renting a flame-thrower, for
some good, old-fashioned, extermination of biblical proportions. But
that seems a little excessive at this point.
At. This. Point.
I'm leaving my options open.
Benevolent, mercurial, merciful,
and amenable.
I rule with an iron hand in a velvet
glove.
And steel-toed boots.
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