I’ve been a huge arachnophobe ever since I was little. And I remember exactly what happened to cause it. I was probably around six and my parents, my younger brother, and I lived in an old apartment in Utah. My brother and I had been goofing around with my dad, wrestling, getting tickled no doubt, and laughing. I had to pee and managed to break away from the giggling fray to run (literally) to the bathroom. I opened the door and pop! A huge spider springs down from the ceiling on a silken thread, touching my nose. I can still see it in dreams, huge mandibles, eight spindly legs pulsating (trying to grab me, really) in the air as it bounced on its SURPRISE! thread. I screamed and peed my pants and then cried for awhile. All of which were all appropriate reactions for a six year old girl.
For the next twenty-four years the first thing I did upon entering any building or room was look at the door jamb, and then the ceiling. I developed my own spider sense. I could tell if there was a spider without even looking. The site of a spider would cause instant paralysis. I couldn’t move, or it would see me and jump on me or run after me really fast, who knows, but something terrible would happen if I moved. It’s hard to describe the irrational fear that gripped me over something so small, and most of the time harmless. But it felt like hot pokers in my chest and fire through my limbs. No matter what my brain was screaming, my body wouldn’t move.
Oddly enough it took an infestation of a highly toxic spider to nudge me toward arachnophobia recovery. Last summer our house was swarming with western black widows. Latrodectus hesperus, I learned. I didn’t want to waste money on an exterminator so I learned everything I could about this rather intimidating looking lady. I learned to recognize males and juveniles, learned about feeding and hunting habits, and I learned about breeding and how to keep a population under control naturally. I also learned that widows are not aggressive and that no one in the US has died from a widow bite since the ‘80’s. It turns out spiders are fascinating creatures. Still, we did have to curb the infestation. We probably killed three or four dozen black widows last summer.
This summer we’ve seen a few, but nothing near last year’s numbers. This year I’ve realized too what amazing predators black widows are. Last year, in the garden and around the house, there was nothing but black widows. This year the diversity in not only insects, but other spiders as well is incredible. Learning more about spiders opened up a whole new creeping crawling world I’d never really taken an interest in. I have four enormous amazing red New Zealand flax plants in my front yard. Two of them have daring jumping spiders living in them that are probably bigger than a quarter. One of them is shown eating a black widow above. And on one of my tomato plants out back I have a celer crab spider. Neither type of spider is a web maker, they rely on their eyesight and quickness to catch prey.
So I’ve gotten over my fear of spiders enough to sit for a minute and observe them if I see them. No panicking and squishing for the outdoor arachnids. And I use the more humane ‘relocation’ method to rid myself of spiders in the house as opposed to the vacuum method I used to use. I do not see letting one crawl its eight legs across my fingers anytime soon, but the paralysis has lifted and I can now identify most of the spiders in my back yard. They truly are fascinating creatures and it’s worth conquering fear to get a closer look at them.
For the next twenty-four years the first thing I did upon entering any building or room was look at the door jamb, and then the ceiling. I developed my own spider sense. I could tell if there was a spider without even looking. The site of a spider would cause instant paralysis. I couldn’t move, or it would see me and jump on me or run after me really fast, who knows, but something terrible would happen if I moved. It’s hard to describe the irrational fear that gripped me over something so small, and most of the time harmless. But it felt like hot pokers in my chest and fire through my limbs. No matter what my brain was screaming, my body wouldn’t move.
Oddly enough it took an infestation of a highly toxic spider to nudge me toward arachnophobia recovery. Last summer our house was swarming with western black widows. Latrodectus hesperus, I learned. I didn’t want to waste money on an exterminator so I learned everything I could about this rather intimidating looking lady. I learned to recognize males and juveniles, learned about feeding and hunting habits, and I learned about breeding and how to keep a population under control naturally. I also learned that widows are not aggressive and that no one in the US has died from a widow bite since the ‘80’s. It turns out spiders are fascinating creatures. Still, we did have to curb the infestation. We probably killed three or four dozen black widows last summer.
This summer we’ve seen a few, but nothing near last year’s numbers. This year I’ve realized too what amazing predators black widows are. Last year, in the garden and around the house, there was nothing but black widows. This year the diversity in not only insects, but other spiders as well is incredible. Learning more about spiders opened up a whole new creeping crawling world I’d never really taken an interest in. I have four enormous amazing red New Zealand flax plants in my front yard. Two of them have daring jumping spiders living in them that are probably bigger than a quarter. One of them is shown eating a black widow above. And on one of my tomato plants out back I have a celer crab spider. Neither type of spider is a web maker, they rely on their eyesight and quickness to catch prey.
So I’ve gotten over my fear of spiders enough to sit for a minute and observe them if I see them. No panicking and squishing for the outdoor arachnids. And I use the more humane ‘relocation’ method to rid myself of spiders in the house as opposed to the vacuum method I used to use. I do not see letting one crawl its eight legs across my fingers anytime soon, but the paralysis has lifted and I can now identify most of the spiders in my back yard. They truly are fascinating creatures and it’s worth conquering fear to get a closer look at them.
1 comment:
I worry about the number of poisonous spiders that seem to abound yet I hesitate to kill and them if I can avoid it. Somewhere deep in my psyche I've concluded even the most heinous of creatures deserves its life.
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