THE HABITS OF SPIDERS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3005, 18 October 1911, Page 77

THE HABITS OF SPIDERS.

By Curtis Melvin.

FIRST PRIZE, LETTER.

Dear Dot, —Thr.ugh shunned by* nearly everyone, and especially by girls, these -creepy, crawling craatures are really interesting, and some axe even beautiful. First Of all there is the o::e which hangs its web in any corner inside, and collects such dust. How is it that, though we demolish these dusty cobwebs eo often, in a day or so they are there again? Well, just because we never kill the active builder, which always finds a safe retreat in a crevice, or it scurries rapidly out of danger across the floor. There is the common fat grey spider which hangs its dlalicate web outside, across corners >of doors or windows, euc~, ready to catch the unwary fly. I have often watched a fly fly into one of these beautiful traps. Sometimes the spider lies in wait up by the wall from which his web is hung, or he sometimes waits in the very centre. When the victim is caught it is with almost a cruel savageness that he rushes down and binds it round and round again with a web from its body, glued together by a fluid from its mouth.

But it is not on flies alone that this spider livea, for if one takes a light outside at night these creatures are as vigilant as ever, ready for nocturnal insects. Spiders of this species, which live in trees, vary greatly in colour according to the vegetation surrounding them. In the early summer we often sec- hundreds of white oases, bound on to. docks, tussocks, or branches.. In these the spider has deposited a cluster of pink eggs, also, wrapped up, which soon, hatch into myriads of. tiny little spaders. Their house of strong white web is waterproof and warm, and provides shelter for them until they lane strong enough to look) after themselves. However, I have often seen flocks of waxeyes go from case to case, rip them open, and devoir almost every one of the tiny inmates. Often' on a sunny day after a frost it is a beautiful slight to see the immense quantity of fine gossamer .shimmering in the sunshine, till one wonders how many millions of these little workers there must be. Not a bent of grass, not a straw or stick remains luioonmected, and long threads become detached and float away in the breeze. One day, to the end of a floating thread I found a weaver—a tiny, shiny, black, little beadlike thing. I often saw theim afterwards.. If on© parts the grass.and watches, one may see scores of tiny black spiders, with little red legs, scurrying all over. I do not know what they do. A spider's web is so very fine as to be akniost invisible, yet its strength is marvellous, as may be seen by the test which a struggling inisiect will put upon it. I once caught a beautiful butterfly—,a Red Admiral—which fl»w into a spider's web and could not get free. Bees and moths and other large insects are also often unable to free themselves. Another test of the strength is illustrated on a fe-ary cs ioggj sssscing, whsa ifce -webs %?&.

sent a. most beautiful picture; dozens of them hang on bushes thickly laden with crystal drops of dew, yet not one gives way to the weight. A scene like this always reminds, me of ia display of delicately wrought lace.

There is another spider,, the big fat one, hexaithele petrio, or the "Maori Baby Spider." This lives in holes in secluded mossy or damp banks. It is a species of trapdoor, only it builds no, door to its nest, end is the largest I know about here. Its l tubular ho'e, .six or seven inches long, ruins straight into the bank, and is lined throughout with web. At its farthest end the occupajit lives, head outwards, of course. I have never seen it hunting, eo I presume it waits patiently for its prey to .walk into its hole, which is just about as large round as a threepence. I have often found the elytrons and empty cases of bodies of black beetles down their holes. I (suppose the insects walk down, unaware of the fate which .them. Only once have I seen, this spider at the entrance of its hole, and on this ocoasion I popped a slug in, and the spider began eoitiing it. The name of " Maori Baby " oomies from the fact that the underside of ' the aibdomen resembles a Maori. baby's faoe. The- body is a beautiful shiny black, and its falces are very powerful. None is more 1 curious than the "Harvestman " spider-, with its little black body suspended and balanced' in the mid3.t of its long slender black legs, which are quiiite as long as those of a daddy longlegs. These legis are to enable . it to walk easily over grass, etc., but it can travel ,-with remarkable rapidity over fleers, and even up the walls. In. keeping with its legs, . its falces are long, and stand erect, but have a joint in the middle, and turn down again. The children term these, accessories their "elevators," for that is what they really resemble. This one, I think, builds no web, but lives down the centre of tussocks or under beams. "We neatly always have rain when these take wa Iking exercise. There is another one, too, similar in shape to the Harvestman, only of a pale yellowish colour, and its faloes are much smaller. The place where I have seen most of them was in and about a large bush of perennial sweet pcia, but I have also seen them in tussocks, and once" or twice resting on the wall of a. building. The wateir spider I have aeon only once, and then I got such a scare that I did not stay to watch it. I had lifted a stone in acreek, and was feeling for crayfish, when I drew out such a pretty velvety (brownish, T think) spider, which luckily scurried back to the water. I had heard that a bite from one of these is poisonous, so was glad I escaped.

Another smaller grey kind commonly found amongst clods when gardening carries, its eggs safely bouhd in a round white covering of strong web on its back, and if disturbed ruins off with its burden to a siafer place. This species displays great affection for its progeny which is to be, for, if its precious burden becomes displaced from its body, it turns round and seizes it in its falces, and can scarcely be miadle to release it.

Another ■worthy of note is a large velvety brown one, rather scarce though, whioh builds a. strong house up the grass or tussocks for its -eggs. Upon this, in the sunshinia. it poses with its _ strong • legs outstretched, and watches with a savage vigilance.

The " BJatipo" and " Trapdoors " are not found here, so about their habits I cannot write. There are such lots of spiders, and so common, yet about their habits we know so little. From our early childhood we knew the story of the " Spider and. the Fly," and this, I think, instils into us a disregard for them as being treacherous; but though we look upon them as creatures of cruelty, they are themselves hunted and eaten by other insects; and though they store away flies for their winter food, they themselves are treated in the same way by a kind of wasp, which paralyses, but does not kill them, and stows them away as_ food for its young. One which I have almost forgotten to mention is the " ticking spider." Every night in the summer time when I am going "to bed, and all is silent, I hear the gentle tick ticking of these spiders, as if a watch were ticking close to me. I don't remember ever .seeing my little night friends, but I have heard it' said that they make the* ticking sound by making their nest in the niches of the wood. Here is a very old-fashioned piece o'f poetrv of which I am very fond. (" Money spinner " is th& popular nam© of a minute and somewhat rare spider. It used to be considered highly prejudicial! to one's fortune to kill one.) I killed the money spinner, No wonder I'm so poor;. . I killed the littje weaver On the back door. Alas! I've had no breakfast, And haven't any dinner: Oh! but I'm very eorry I killed the money spinner. Busy little workman " With his golden thread, — I saw him climbing swiftly, And I killed him —dead. If you would profit By this tale of woe, When yoni see the money spinner Don't kill him —let him go.