Great White Hunter

Just in, from nite pest control. A score of snails lie broken in the street. There were so many, I started chucking them against the house, in the corner by the iceplant. I got tired of picking them up, so I just used my snips to crush open their shell where they were caught.

There was an unexpected trophy at the end of my travail. The black widow by the front window, showed herself. I already took a good shot at her, three or four days ago, and whiffed.

I was watering, and I tried to bang the nozzle against her body. She scurried to safety and learned to fear me. I only got one other chance at her, day before. I got excited and tried to get the camera, to film the killing. By the time I found it and booted the thing, black lady had scurried into her hole.

Tonight, when my flashlight caught her napping, I went inside and got my torch. I knew it was full of butane, so I shook it up a bit, and headed outside. The flashlight beam was made into a pinpoint.

I moved in for the kill, squatting, balanced on the balls of my feet. The flashlight went into my left hand. I would make the final operation with the torch, with my right. She was exposed, about two inches from a wooden overhang. If she was alerted and made it to the edge of that wood, she was safe, all the way back to her hole. I clicked the lighter once. Misfire. Second click, ignition.

Another flick of my thumb, and blast-off. I pointed the lighter output, toward the gap between the spider and the overhang, and pushed it to within four inches.

She took a moment to arouse, then made a cut toward the gap. When she realized she might be trapped, she threw her body against the edge of her web, trying to attach herself to her attacker. Three times she heaved her little body towards my exposed index finger, and then she was done.

Her happy hunting ground, the little wedge of web between ledge and grass, now her tomb. Her bright red hourglass, sunny side up. Nice image; the camera will wait for natural light.

Great Spirit, we commend to your care another of our own. She flies fast and straight, like an arrow. Comfort that one, for I am the one, who will speak for her.

13:08 PDT Update. There is no sign of a struggle. Last night, her body was cradled in her web, like a hammock. Maybe the ants got her, or she blew away. Or, maybe she did a mind-meld on me, and willed herself to play dead until I went away.

that spider from 1970 is getting bigger and bigger all the time

14:18 Wednesday PDT Update on the infestation. Last night, while on pest duty, I chanced upon the black lady yet again.

There must be a term for the ability to see things that are there, but are unseen, until the power is called upon. At the other end of the spectrum, sometimes not even the spatial relationship of the tv remote, telephone or other ubiquitious object, can penetrate my visual cortex.

And, she had company. Her cousin had a little hidey-hole over by my tomato plant. Today, I dragged the vacuum cleaner out to the yard, and sucked about a billion spiders and eggs into their new, happy hepa home. Every corner and crevice got the pointy-shaped nozzle, and a good scrape down to the bare wood.

Nature abhors a vacuum.