Wonderful Web—Part 2

Once the web is completed, the builder will settle in to waiting—one leg lazily draped across a thread, so when an insect splats up against the web and tries to struggle free, the vibrations will alert the spider to charge out and secure dinner. The type of web that we humans are most familiar with are called spiral orb webs—simply gorgeous creations, made by (guess what?) orb spiders. Other kinds of spiders spin what are called tangled, funnel, tubular, and sheet webs. (See photos, previous posting.)

I contentedly gazed at this spider as it wove its miracle. I could see it zip in and out, building the radials after the anchors were strong, and then it moved in ever-widening circles, as it added the spirals. As long as this web stays in use, we call it a web. When (and if) it becomes abandoned and collects dust, we call it a cobweb. I wonder what names the spider uses.

I am very grateful for spiders building their webs around here and snacking on insects. The populations of other insectivores—bats and songbirds—are dwindling, so we value every spider’s contribution to check insect overpopulation. 

In mid-to-late summer I run into many spider webs during my walks through the woods. It’s rather irritating to be enjoying a hike and suddenly feel the threads of a web wrap around my face, stick in my beard, or slither along my arms. The sticky threads cling stubbornly to me and the strong anchor threads almost threaten to trap me. In self-defense, I have taken to carrying a small branch with many twigs splayed out at its end. As I walk along, I wave the branch ahead of me, to intercept the webs before my nose does—looking like a defrocked, bearded priest, blessing the forest as I wander. I almost wish I knew a few words of Latin to utter, to add to the image.

I regret destroying the efforts of a spider’s web work. I wish there was a way I could see the webs coming, so I could detour around them, but, unless it is caught in sunlight, the web is essentially invisible to me, as well as to insects. (Interestingly, birds, who can see in the ultraviolet portion of the light spectrum, can see the web and avoid flying through it—to both the bird’s and spider’s advantage. That’s to the bird’s benefit, because I don’t think they can pull out a handkerchief and wipe off the web threads, as I do.) Maybe I could invent an ultraviolet spider-web spotting device that I could don for my walks, to keep me from destroying those hard-earned webs.