Yesterday morning I took out the trash and passed Mrs. Argiope’s bush, and wah! She wasn’t in her web.
I dropped the trash and went into defense mode, just in case she was hovering overhead, about to land on my neck and suck me dry.
I mean, everything I’ve read about these creatures says they’re peaceful, non-aggressive types, but there’s no harm in being cautious, I always say.
When my breathing returned to normal I searched until I found her right next to the little egg sac she’d made last week.
Aha, I thought, her time had come! She was in labor! About to knit that second egg sac and birth a couple thousand more alien children!
Throughout the day I kept checking on her with my camera, hoping I could get some stellar shots of spider birthing rituals or Lamaze breathing or even Mr. Argiope giving her a hand, but no. She just sat there, like she had nothing better to do.
When I checked on her with my flashlight last night I was worried: was she egg bound? Sick? I’d read that some argiopes die at the end of the summer; was she was saying goodbye to her egg sack?
And then this morning I went to look and found her back in her web, all skinny again, and in the bush were TWO egg sacs. Not only had she knitted up a second one, she patched up the first one with some old leaves:
So have a virtual cigar, everyone. I’m an arachno-godmother—who intends to let the boys take out the trash from now on.
No time to dilly dally… I’m late with my Super Sabado! Hurry, hurry, hurry! (Read the rest of “Super Sabado: Congratulations, Mr. Argiope, it’s a blob”)