Whimsical Nonfiction Story

Jumping Spider

Arachnophobia is a sterile, tame word. Spiders terrify me. Their multiple eyes, poisonous fangs, and propensity for literally sucking out the life of prey give me the shivers. I have gotten better over the years. I can tolerate a quarter inch and smaller. Any bigger I meet outside, I can walk—all right—run away from. In the house—they have to go. And sorry, I’m not catching and releasing them. They get squashed.

I met one spider once I supposed I anthropomorphized into a descendent of Arachne’s, the young woman in Greek mythology doomed to become an eight-legged spinner of silk for having the hubris to challenge Athena to a weaving contest. This spider appeared suddenly on the arm of my lawn chair, not the least intimidated by my superior size. Her wide-legged, bulldoggish stance seemed a stubborn challenge.

“Now that I’ve gotten all the way up here, I dare you to remove me.”

Since I don’t intentionally get near spiders and am most unhappy when they come near me, I sacrificed gracefulness to scramble from the chair. No bigger than a nickel, I studied her from a safe distance. I’d never seen one like it. Black and hairy, yellow and orange dotted its back. A kind of repressed energy emanated from it impatiently waiting to burst out. She was no web builder. The strong legs looked fashioned for stalking.

Her manner declared, “Why waste time building a web, vulnerable to the elements, when I can just jump ‘em?” I could see this feisty little spider marching over the ground, spying her prey, and pouncing with an exultant, “Gotcha!”

I actually began to like this character and stepped closer. A slight twitch of her body warned me she might be capable of jumping the remaining length between us. I stopped romanticizing and hastily backtracked.

A half-filled glass of lemonade smashed down and my brother grabbed the chair. The little spider’s hunting days were over.

It amazes me decades later, when I wander into rooms and wonder why I’m there, that I still have a vivid memory of that lawn chair with its green and white plastic strips and metal arms, warm sun, grass, and a hairy black spider with pretty spots.

Scientific Fact

Jumping spiders are one of the most numerous species of arachnids and are found all over the world. While they don’t spin webs, they do use strands of silk to anchor themselves when they jump as backup in case they miss their mark. They show a surprising amount of strategy when stalking prey considering their small brains, behavior scientists haven’t yet figured out. Mmm, might make an interesting scifi story.