Hi Tweets,

Janet Hardin writes:

>My question has to do with those BIG BIG
>leggy guys which audibly gallop across one's floor of an evening, often 3"
>or so in leg-spread. They are rather attractive, just long of leg and
>engendering heeby-jeebies in those so inclined.

Are you describing a house spider or a ruthlessly gold-digging Paris model? '-)

As soon as a.) the rains hit and/or b.) the first cold snap occurs, these
long-legged garden or house spiders (pretty sure they're Tegenaria sp., but
the name Agaenoleps--surely misspelled--rings a bell also, come inside the
house. Anyone who's ever lived in a basement apartment in Vancouver has had
the experience of finding one trapped in the bathtub (put a towel over the
edge for it to climb out on), or waltzing down the hall carpet, or--worst of
all--hotfooting across the bedspread or under the bed. 50's horror flick.
Mwahahaa.

My fave was the time I was reading at my desk late at night and my
peripheral vision told me that a section of the floor had suddenly decided
to go for a walk. In the spirit of true scientific inquiry, I thought: I'm
not gonna look over there; I want my mommy. With great will, I looked
directly at the biggest house spider I've ever seen. Eventually caught it
(trap it under a drinking glass and slip a piece of stiff paper underneath
it, escort to nearest door or window, open, thank it for visiting, heave). I
measured the hideous little rascal before taking it to the door and giving
it the bum's rush, and it was 5 *inches* across with a 1"-long body.

>(In this case, all spiders
>are welcome in my house

Here, too. Especially those nifty little jumping spiders, the zebra
(Salticus scenicus) and the larger one that's really beautiful: midnight
black except for a brilliant scarlet back--the colors remind me of a Roman
Catholic cardinal--called, I think, Phidippus something.

>though the webs are cruelly swept down on
>occasion. Hubby still likes me to escort some of these Big Guys outside
>once in a while

Big Girls, actually; the males are much smaller.

>mostly when they leave the floor for couch-scrambling
>heights.

And they always hog the remote channel-changer.

>One year we actually had names for the individual spiders, but
>this year there are too many for that...) Are they indeed _Tegenaria_ sp?

Yes, House Spider, Tegenaria domestica. Maybe I'm looking at some old
taxonomy, but it seems to be the same species as the House Spider in Europe
and the UK. Otherwise, I'd settle for Charlotte and her children.


and Yvonne writes:

>I've always called those big long legged spiders wolf spiders.

Don't think so, Yvonne. The wolf spiders belong to a different family,
Lycosidae, and here in Cascadia look smaller and darker. Next time you're in
a gravelly rough pasture field or in piled driftwood high above the
high-tide line, look for a small, quick, blackish spider: that's a pretty
common wolf spider here. If you see enough of them, you'll see that the
mothers-to-be carry the silken egg-sacs bound to their bellies. Really cool!

>I heard
>that to catch their prey they run them down instead of building webs.

Real wolf spiders do; the house spider builds ramshackle webs behind stuff.

>But anyway, I'm sorry, but I don't like them at all.
>They are too quick
>for me and sometimes I feel they are more intelligent too. I know ha
>ha.

Nah, they're tiny, terrified little dimwits. For sure, they're *way* more
frightened of you than you of them, 'cause compared to a spider, *you're
really big*. Spiders aren't really all that bright because they've never
needed to become so: their library of instinctive behavior got them through
most situations for a hundred or so million years. Then came humans. And
houses. And cities. Some adapted to some human environments, such as cellars
and gardens and corners, but sometimes find themselves unwittingly in the
open where we see them. Too bad a device like a freakometer doesn't exist to
see who freaks out more, the human or the spider. The usual reactions are:
the spider says, gotta get the hell outta here; the human says, gotta get
the hell outta here stompstompstompsplat. No contest.

>I have had a fear of spiders since childhood

Yeah, me, too. In spite of it--no law says I've gotta hug the little
monsters--I'm fascinated by how spiders live and look, and amazed at their
many astounding adaptations, and have learned to admire and 'like' them.
Besides, they're part of--um, the Great Web of Life, if that doesn't sound
too overblown. That helps to de-program the fear and revulsion a little, so
even when I'm giving the roust to a large spider, I still do so with the
respect due another living creature. Partly such fear *may*, as some
scientists think, be an instinctive survival aid, but nobody's born
terrified of spiders. Most of it's taught. Someone taught you and I to be
terrified of spiders: we didn't start off that way.

>and
>although I leave most spiders alone to do their thing, this is one
>spider I can't handle. Even my two kittens aren't too keen on them.

Kittens are right to be cautious about any other animal until they know it's
safe; this is instinctive until they're sure the critter's innocuous.

Good thing cats don't play poker because they're very good at calculating
odds. In this instance, they're not sure about the spider, so they keep
their distance. They probably had less fear than curiosity.

>I'd like to know more about this spider.
>Does anyone have any info?

Good for you! Acknowledge your fear but don't let it stop you from learning
about these neat little creatures! There's a really cool book called The
Life of the Spider, by John Crompton, written in 1950. Though some
old-fashioned attitudes occasionally crop up in it, mostly it's a witty,
thoroughly charming and very informative book on the commoner families of
spiders, including our pal the House Spider, Tegenaria domestica "...her one
ambition is to destroy flies and other pests", he says. If you can find it
in your library or bookstore, I think you'll find it quite instructive and
helpful in seeing these creatures, not as objects of fear (although thanks
to the people who saw to our training, some echoes of fear and disgust will
likely always be in the background) but as fascinating and helpful little tykes.


Michael Price The Sleep of Reason Gives Birth to Monsters
Vancouver BC Canada -Goya
mprice at mindlink.net