29 September 2007

Arachnophobia

Or, In Kings Heath no-one can hear you scream!

Or, Revenge of the homeless web-spinners!

I have a difficult relationship with spiders. I am terrified of them. It’s irrational, I know. They just want to be left alone to munch insects in peace and would far prefer it if I wasn’t clumping around nearly treading on them and disrupting their web-building activities. But knowing that doesn’t stop me from feeling almost faint with fear when I have an unexpected encounter with one - such is the nature of irrational fears.

In spite of my terrors, the local spiders and I are able, for the most part, to co-exist without too much trauma. You see, I can pretty much cope when they stand still or hide under rocks. Setting up home in the compost bin is a grey area, but I’ve learned to cope with it. Hanging on webs is good, as long as the web is out of my way and not at face height. Under these circumstances I am quite happy to leave them to their eight-legged activities and, it seems, they are happy to leave me to my biped pootling. Mutual respect and a healthy dose of distance is all it requires for us to live together in peace and harmony. Today, however, I messed up that delicate co-existence and I paid the price.

I needed to move some pots on the patio and in doing so I destroyed a particularly fine web, home to a large, but not too scary spider. Foolishly I thought no more of it and went about my business. Some time later I started to cut back some dead flower heads from the same pots. I then began shaking the dried pods over my hand to collect the seed. I think you probably know what’s coming next, don’t you? If only I had been so prescient. I was admiring the tiny black seed gradually filling the folds in the palm of my hand and still shaking the flower heads, when I finally dislodged the spider that had taken shelter there when I had unceremoniously evicted her from her web. So there I was with flower seed and a spider in my hand. IN MY HAND! Clearly this spider was out for revenge and was about to run up my sleeve, find my neck and sink venemous mouthparts into my jugular. And, I have to say, being scared of something like that would be perfectly rational, now wouldn’t it?

Being of sound mind and a calm, collected disposition, I took the only sensible option under the circumstances. I screamed like I was auditioning for a teenage slasher film, threw my hands up into the air sending seeds and spider flying, and ran out of the garden as fast as I could. Good to know I can be cool-headed under pressure, isn’t it?

As I write this, at least 30 minutes later, my heart is still racing and I am a little bit jumpy - I just yelped when the phone rang. I feel as though I won’t ever dare go back into the garden again. But I know this is exactly what the spiders want, to take control of my lovely garden and turn it into some obscene arachnid pleasure dome. I can’t allow that to happen. I’ll just have to face my fears.

And perhaps invest in a flame-thrower.

Filed under: Wildlife — Clare @ 4:36 pm