Soggy Spider—Part 1

No matter how careful I am about not harming innocent creatures around the homestead, it inevitably happens that I do. I can’t completely avoid it. For example, when I walk across the yard, I may inadvertently step on a harmless ant or two.

The space we occupy on this planet is often earned at the expense of another creature—either by pushing it out of our niche or by outright killing it, either for food or just because it happens to be in our way. Nature usually achieves an exquisite balance between species that occupy the same territory—a balance that often sees them cooperating, but often also requires that they compete and that some of them expire in the process.

I have written before about how we do intentionally kill some so-called non-innocent and aggressive critters—those who have it as their intention to take over and rid us of “their” domain. House-invading ants and termites are examples. But there are countless species of plants and animals that are doing no harm to us, other than maybe being underfoot. One aspect of my developing a degree of sensitivity to the rights of these inhabitants to be part of my immediate surroundings is to try to understand them and discover ways in which we can cohabit peacefully. Over the years we’ve learned to do this with several insects and “weeds,” that we once considered obnoxious, but later came to see were quite harmless and even—once we purged ourselves of a little ignorance—could come to see them as beneficial partners.

Despite how hard I work not to harm our animal neighbors unnecessarily, however, I still do. Some of the harm is done simply because I don’t understand them well enough, and some is due simply to lack of sensitivity and attention. Here’s an example of the latter.

Planning to take an evening hot tub last year, I prepared to get it ready for a refill one day. Sitting beside the tub is a bucket of cold water that I keep for pouring over my head during a soak—to try keep my brain temperature low enough that I don’t fry any more gray matter than necessary, as I steep my body for a couple of hours in the hot spa. Picking up the water bucket to empty it out, I saw a spider sitting on the bottom.

Periodically I find critters who have crawled or fallen into the hot tub or the water bucket beside it—either floating on the top or having sunk to the bottom. Too many times I find them drowned. I always feel regret and apologize for having such a watery death trap awaiting them, and ponder what I might do next time to lessen the drowning toll.

On this occasion, however, the spider was neither floating nor dead. It surprisingly sat on the bottom of the water bucket, weakly flailing its legs about—not seeming to be in a panic, but very slowly moving its eight appendages.

I carefully emptied the bucket out, trying to deposit the spider gently on dry ground and not swamp it with a tsunami of water. Might it revive? It laid there upside down, a wet lump of a soggy critter, looking pretty sad, and no longer moving. I carefully turned it over and was surprised and delighted to see it open up a bit and stretch its legs out, looking almost normal. I happened to have a pair of reading glasses in my pocket, so I put them on and crouched down to inspect the soggy fellow. It sat there motionless.

Conclusion of Soggy Spider next time…