23 April 18 The Web Master

Spiders? Like them? Hate them? Indifferent toward them?

Whatever your disposition, they are creatures worth our time and admiration.
The greater the number of natural objects (trees, weeds, rocks) nature provides, the more elegant and exquisite the spider can build silk webs. Sadly, spiders can’t visually appreciate the artistry of their creations, even though they have six to eight eyes. Poor eyesight is the spider-norm. They know the world and their own webs through touch, vibration, and taste, skills that support them in navigating to their prey.

Yes, prey, for the spiders emerge as master hunters. The structures they build function as sticky nets that catch doomed insects and small animals. Other uses for the webs include cocoons for protection of offspring and for wrapping their prey in a kind of arachnid straight jacket. Of course, we’ve all seen spiders swinging like circus performers, suspended from a nearly invisible strand. Commonly, spiders eat their own webs. They digest the very webs they’ve spun to recoup some of the energy spent crafting their masterpieces.

If you have (or had) a spider in your house that gives you the heebie-jeebies, you might wonder how long it will be around. Well, that depends.  A large percentage of these little mites (oops! A mite is an arachnid, but not a spider) don’t make it more than a month or two. They fall prey to predators and parasites. Still, a spider without such challenges can live an average of one-to-two years. Now hang on to your Audubon Guide: A female tarantula can live over twenty years. Take that, you doggies! Other long-lived spiders include the southern black widow, the brown recluse, and the infamous Goliath bird-eater (yep they actually do eat birds, although very small ones). FYI, the Goliath is the largest spider in the world, measuring just short of a foot in diameter with inch-long fangs. (Look it up!)

So, grab your butterfly net and break through the cobwebs to this week’s poem – if you dare.

The Web Master

far out tethered to                                                                   pine trunk scales

gleaming dew brilliant                                                               suspended in light beyond light

at the center

the web master

feels tremors tremble a single thread                                        a hundred wind-whispers

the master waits motionless

web vibration links to trees to sky and ground

to prey

and where                    web reaches                 far enough                               to stars

Background
A plethora of webs wound their silk from prairie grasses to prairie flowers and back again in the fields where I grew up. Those webs fascinated me.  I lightly touched one delicate strand at a time to see the master web maker skitter out an inch or two to “listen” and feel what or who had entered the miniature domain. 

This week’s poem is as simple as they get (apart from the last few words): Spiders captivate most of us whether because we’re afraid of them, or because we’re intrigued and can’t take our eyes off of them. Still, it’s the rare person who wants a close encounter with an eight-legged, eight-eyed creature. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t want these leggy wonders crawling across my face in the dark when I’m sleeping. 

Some people have true phobias about spiders, but most people fall short of that despite the urge to squash or step on spiders. How come? First, we know that spiders can bite with venom-infecting fangs, and most venom is poisonous, if only slightly. Who wants to be a pin cushion for a wandering arachnid? If you are wondering, the deadliest spider known is the Brazilian Wandering Spider who packs the most dangerous neurological venom around. Hey! There’s a reason to be afraid of some of these fellows. In case you’re curious, spiders don’t kill nearly as many people as their shirt-tail cousins, the AFP mosquito – approximately 725,000 folks every year.

Second, they are everywhere, especially where they look like they’re hiding, just waiting to jump on the next warm body. Approximately 40,000 types of spiders inhabit all the continents except that really cold one surrounding the South Pole. They are everywhere. Those of us with arachnophobia avoid corners and gardens and such – anyplace a spider might lurk. Some people are so frightened, they lose bladder control.

Finally, research tells us that our fear isn’t based on being bitten, but rather the startle of their erratic movements with all those legs. And that’s the other thing – apparently people are simply averse to all that “legginess.” 

Now that you are sufficiently aroused, and perhaps checking out the corners where you live, why not explore a little more deeply. 

Exploration 1: How are humans like the web master of this poem.
Exploration 2: What is it about spiders that is so fascinating? More so than other “bugs?”
Exploration 3: Would you ever entertain the idea of having a pet spider, like a tarantula that can live over 20 years?
Exploration 4: What do you make of the shape of this poem on the page? What about the left-justified title of the poem? How about the bold font when “the master is mentioned (3 times), and the once bolded “prey”?

Jack Pine Savage