2004-05-11
8 legs are too many
What is it about THIS that makes people get all shivery and shaky?
I dunno � but I�ve been that way ever since I can remember. And it�s not just spiders, anything with that long, spindly leg thing going on elicits that response from me. Centipedes: eeeeekkk!
I remember distinctly being very, very young � about 6 maybe � and my parents took us to one of those carnivals. I was in the kiddie-ferriswheel with my little brother. You know, the kind that has wire caging so the little tykes don�t fall or jump out. Well, it was night, and there were lights on everywhere, of course. And, of course, that brought in the bugs: mayflies, mosquitoes, moths, all kinds of things with long spindly legs and feelers. I started crying when they gathered on the cage. Then I started wailing and screaming. They had to stop the ride and when my dad reached in to get me all I could do was scream �Bugs!!�.
When I got a little older, my uncle started showing me his collection (he was an amateur entomologist) and I was fascinated, if somewhat creeped out. In fourth grade I collected June bugs. By junior high I had my own insect collection. Things like cicadas and June bugs didn�t� bother me. But long spindly legs �. Brrrrrrrr.
Many, many years later, as an adult, I finally got to where I could tolerate turning a page in a book that had a spider picture on it without a pair of tweezers or some other agent other than my own finger or hand.
In my 40�s I actually let a very good friend at the nature center, where I volunteered, talk me into *Gasp* holding a missouri tarantula (!!) for oh, maybe 20 seconds. It helped to think of it as a small, furry animal with just double the usual number of legs. Or maybe a small, hairy Sleipnir (the Norse 8-legged horse that Odin rode). When its pedipalps started tapping my hand I said �ok, he�s tasting me � get it off � NOW�.
Now, I don�t shriek like a 7th grade girl trying to impress her friends every time I see a spider. Nor do I jump out of my skin if one should land on me. Well, not too far out. And only to jump right back in again, in order to smack the thing away.
Now I actually appreciate them. They eat all the other stuff. And those little black, chunky, fuzzy jumping spiders are almost cute. Almost. In fact, my tolerance for the spider ilk is in direct proportion to the chunkiness of the spider. Short, stubby legs and thick body? Hey � you�re cool. Bulbous body and long, spindly legs? Acck! You�re outta here!
There�s a house spider in my bathroom right now. I named her Shirley. I have no clue if it�s a male or female, of course. For that matter I�m not entirely sure what kind it is. But it�s been there a few days and as long as it stays visible and out of my way, and out of reach, it can live. Unless I find out it�s a brown recluse. Then it dies. With many apologies to the spider gods, of course, but I will not have brown recluse or black widows in my house, regardless of what else they might eat.
Partner has a couple of wolf spiders in the basement, he says. I don�t go in the basement much, so I leave them to him.
I won�t kill one if I can help it (unless one of the above mentioned icky ones), but then I won�t kill anything if I can help it. But I do have my limits.
I saw in a catalog the other day a pair of bug tongs. I should probably order some but then what? My bathroom is upstairs. The door to the outside is downstairs. I am not going to scoop up this thing and let it sit there watching me with all eight eyes while I shower, and then remember to take it down and let it outside. Besides, it will just find its way back in.
So I named it Shirley and I make sure I know where it is at all times.
I�m fine with it.
Really.
No, really --- it�s ok.
Gaaahhyhhhhh!!
Mitakuye Oyasin (yeah even those)
Walk in Balance
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