SPIDERS

Macfarland places the Spiders as following the Cephalopoda in order of

intelligence, as does Sir A. E. Shipley. Says the latter:--

“The Arachnida, together with the Crustacea, Insects, Myriapods,

and Peripatus, make up the great phylum Arthropoda, a phylum which,

from the point of view of numbers of species and individuals, is the

dominant one on this planet, and from the point of view of intelligence

and power of co-operating in the formation of social communities is

surpassed but by the Vertebrata.”[13]

Spiders possess considerable skill as weavers, hunters, miners,

builders and aeronauts. Lacking ears, they “feel” sounds. With but

limited visual powers, they nevertheless unerringly pick out the

particular strand of the web in which a victim Insect has been trapped.

It has been said that the Spider must run to the center of the web

before she can know which strand to follow out and reach the entrapped

victim. Says Gustav Kafka, in his “Animal Psychology,” “Spiders seem to

be endowed with a very keen sense of touch, and know instantly along

which strand of their web to go in order to get to any Insect or other

object that may become caught in their trap.” The layman probably

will wonder why the Spider does not take the shortest path to get its

quarry, instead of first going to the center of the web, which involves

covering a double distance, perhaps on the very next strand of silk.

This is probably due to the Spider’s very limited eyesight, in spite of

the six to eight eyes which it possesses--so limited, in fact, that it

can see ordinarily for a distance of only a few inches.

Nature has provided the spider with an unusually sharp sense of touch,

and it can tell, by the vibration of the connecting strand of silk,

that some object has lighted on the web. It speeds to the center of

the web, from which, by means of its eight legs and this keen sense of

touch it can immediately ascertain by the vibration on which radiating

strand the object may have alighted. “That is why all Spiders go first

to the center of their web to catch a captive that may lie on the outer

radius of the web, and that they may even have passed on the way to the

center.”

One cannot but admire, says Prof. E. L. Bouvier, “the marvelous

vertical orb-web made by those gifted Spiders which are called

indifferently Acaneus or Epeira. Radii spaced at equal distances form

the framework and connect it with the helix where Insects are captured

and which adheres tenaciously to the radii. From the center where the

latter converge there starts a guide-line which connects them with the

ordinary retreat of the animal. Lurking at its post with one hand,

so to speak, upon the guide-line, the Spider perceives the slightest

tremor of the web. Has an Insect been caught in the net? If so, it runs

down the guide-line until it reaches it, binds it fast, and slowly

sucks its sweet juices, on the spot if it is small, but on its retreat

if it is strong.”

The sense of touch is developed in Spiders beyond all comparison with

other animals. “A female orb-weaver, at the center of her web, can tell

friend from foe, male from female of her species, an Insect suitable

for food from one not suitable, an Insect of a certain size from an

inanimate object of the same size, and she can also distinguish between

sizes of any two objects which happen to fly or be thrown into her web.

This is all accomplished by touch vibrations passing along the radii of

the orb on which the eyes of the female Spider rest. Moreover, during

courtship of Spiders this system of touch vibrations is utilized as a

means of signals to inform the male concerning the proper mood of the

female for mating--but pity the dwarfed male should he misinterpret her

signals, for instantly she pounces upon him and devours him without

showing the least mercy.”[14]

It has been demonstrated that these little creatures distinguish

colors and select a special shade of colors for a background of the

marvelously constructed webs. If the observer changes the colors

surrounding the web, the Spider inhabitant at once seeks a new location

and builds a new web. Spiders must have a sense of light and shade,

in order to conceal their webs as they do, and in the case of the

so-called “trap-door” variety, to camouflage the cleverly constructed

hinged entrances to their tunnel homes so as to resemble their

surroundings.

The olfactory pores of both Spiders and Insects are widely scattered

over the body, head and appendages. The more highly developed the

Insect, the more they are arranged in groups, “most of the groups being

found on the legs, wings and mouth parts. So far only a few olfactory

pores have been found on the antennæ, these being present on the bases

of the antennæ of Bees, Grasshoppers, Roaches and Crickets. Briefly

described, an olfactory pore is nothing more than a nerve passing

through a tiny hole in the ‘skin’ or chitin of the Insect” (McIndoo,

_Loc. cit._, Page 470). “The so-called gustatory sense in Insects is

only a phase of the olfactory sense.”

Spiders, according to the latest experiments, are deaf, and only a few

are able to make sounds. Most Insects can hear, but the Cicada is said

to be deaf, and the female both deaf and dumb. Modern research tends

to support Forel’s conclusion that Insects cannot “hear” in the sense

that we do. He compares this perception in them to that in deaf-mutes

who feel the rolling of a carriage at a distance. But nothing final can

at present be said on this question. Schon, for instance, has described

a structure in the tibiæ of Bees which he regards as an auditory

apparatus. Child thinks that he has discovered an auditory organ in

the Mosquito. Many of the experimental results obtained “indicate that

Insects can hear” (McIndoo).

The orb-weaving Spiders have no peers in the art of weaving. They

know how to fasten marvelously regular webs between the branches of

trees, how to pass over rivers on bridges of floating threads, and even

when still young, they know how to use similar threads to take flight

through the air as real aeronauts.

“The most difficult but not the most delicate work in the making of

an orb-web,” says Prof. E. L. Bouvier, “is the establishment of the

suspending cable which stretches between two points at a distance from

each other and supports the whole structure. Sometimes the Spider

fastens its thread at one of these points and then repairs to the

other where it stretches and fastens the cord which has issued from

its spinnerets during the course of its journey. But this process is

not applicable over all sorts of _terrain_ and is even practically

impossible when the two points are separated by a stream of water or

by any other insurpassable obstacle. In this case the Spider stations

itself or suspends itself at one of the points ... and emits a thread

which is carried by the wind until it attaches itself at another

elevated point. According to Fabre the process may differ somewhat,

however: the Spider may suspend herself but soon thereafter reascends

by her thread; the latter then forms a loop which is stretched out and

fastened by the wind as in the preceding cases. In any case the Spider

knows quite well when the attachment has occurred. She then stretches

her cable and runs back and forth across it several times in order to

multiply the number of threads and thus render the cable more firm. The

next thing is to establish another side to the framework: the Spider

suspends herself again, then reascends by means of her thread, follows

the cable to the opposite end, and then seeks a suitable point further

down where she stretches and fastens the thread emitted in the course

of the journey.

“In the same manner, or by simply walking from one point to another,

a diagonal thread is established which serves as the first radius of

the web. Upon this diagonal line a point is chosen to be the center

of the structure; the Spider attaches a second radius at this point

and then proceeds to walk to the framework where she fastens the other

extremity, after which she returns in the opposite direction to stretch

this thread and make of it a definite radius; the excess length is

reserved at the center to form a cushion. Now at one side and now at

the other, in order to render the structure more stable, the Spider

attaches new radii by the aid of those already established. When

finished the radii are spaced at equal distances; they vary in number

according to the species; Fabre counted twenty-one in the angular

Epeira and thirty-two in the fasciated Argiope.

“Resting upon the cushion the Spider now revolves repeatedly about her

own axis, attaching to the radii a central helix whose inter-radiary

elements are straight lines. Then she advances a little farther and

begins to establish a second similar helix which extends to the

framework. This second helix is permanent in the Nephilæ and temporary

in the Argiopæ, the Epeira and most other forms. Since it consists of

cylindrical threads it is not very suitable for purposes of capture.

Consequently as soon as it has carried it to the framework the animal

returns along this helix, placing between its spirals a new helix whose

elements are composed of threads bearing sticky globules. This helix

constitutes a marvelously effective trap. In establishing it the Spider

takes for a support and scaffold the auxiliary helix; but as the work

proceeds the latter is destroyed except among the Nephilæ, in which it

is retained to give more solidity to the structure.”[15]

Professor Bouvier does not credit the Arachnoidea with much

intelligence, and such as they possess he thinks is probably dominated

by a strict automatism. Yet he asks, “Is it possible to ascribe to pure

automatism or to mere reflex action so judicious a bit of architectural

scaffolding? Undoubtedly the psychology of Spiders offers a vast field

for observation and experiment.”

It is clear that the Spider is an amazingly good judge of distance,

and “can draw parallel lines or converging lines with the accuracy

of a draftsman who uses a drawing board and measuring instruments.”

It is also certain that they form memory associations and learn by

experience: “many examples show that they display a certain degree of

discernment when they establish the bases of their shell or nest. And

it is by making use of these faculties that they have been able to

display plasticity in their habits and undergo an evolution in their

industries.

At the present time they are doubtless quite as capable of evolution

as in former times, but this tendency escapes our notice because of

the automatism which dominates it. We are particularly struck by the

extraordinary rôle played by touch in their automatic manifestations.

Spiders nearly always perform their labors at night and it is merely

by touch that they are able to recognize whether their cables are

sufficiently taut, their radii properly spaced, and the spirals of the

helix regularly placed. With their legs and their palps they search for

contacts and measure distances and the sensitiveness of the spinnerets

reveals to them the moment when their silken thread is properly

attached. They seem to work as if blind, being largely guided by simple

tactile reflexes” (Bouvier).

Says the same authority: “The Avicularidae and the closely related

Atypus possess in a very high degree the skill of the miner; they also

know how to construct masonry, for before weaving for their retreat

an envelope of silk they rough-coat it and make it impermeable by

means of a mortar made of earth and saliva.... Fabre has likewise

studied the manner in which the Lycosa of Narbonne builds the

bastion which surrounds the opening of its burrow. It forms it ‘of

little pebbles, bits of wood, scraps of dry leaves, etc., the whole

dexterously interlaced and cemented with the silk.’ And again it is the

_chelicerae_ which are employed. Many Lycosas, especially among the

American species, perform similar labors. McCook reports (1889) that

the Lycosa arenicola builds a bastion in the form of a chimney with

small bits of straw or wood and that ... at the base of this edifice

it builds a little wall of grains or quartz. More skillful still, the

Lycosa carolinenses executes a neat bit of basket work; it curves,

interlaces and fastens pine needles, so as to form a sort of bastion in

the shape of a bird’s nest upside down.”

In discussing the mystery of the Spider’s web-weaving dexterity, Prof.

J. Arthur Thomson, in his chapter on “Animal Intelligence,” (“The

Outline of Science,” vol. 2) says:

“To credit animals with reason, which means experimenting with general

ideas, is, in all probability, too generous. To try to reduce them to

the level of automatic machines is certainly too stingy. The fact is

that the behavior of animals is often intelligent, often instinctive,

and often a subtle mingling of the two. But it is necessary to attach

precise meanings to these terms.

“A young Spider, which never made a web before, may make its

masterpiece true to the specific pattern the very first time. It

does it without any model to copy, and with no trace of the prentice

hand. Sometimes it can make the web in the dark, or in the course of

a forenoon. This is instinctive behavior, depending on hereditary

prearrangements of nerve-cells and muscle-cells, though never without

its psychical aspect--a suffused awareness and a background of

endeavor. But apart from theory, the fact of observation is certain

that inexperienced animals suddenly blossom out into extraordinary

intricacies and niceties of behavior, perfect the very first time, not

requiring to be learned. This is instinct.”

“With reference to the intelligence of Spiders,” remarks Mr. Garrett P.

Serviss, “I find among Mr. Belt’s records an account of the terrible

panics caused by the advance of armies of Ants through the forest, all

sorts of Insects fleeing wildly before them. But a Spider sometimes

escaped by running out to the end of a branch and suspending itself

from a single thread of silk, between the enemies above and the enemies

below.

“There is exhibited an extraordinary repugnance by many people against

admitting that any living being on this earth has been furnished with

anything in the slightest degree resembling the peculiar gifts that

assure to our race its immensely superior status. This seems to me a

petty jealousy. When we dissect the motives of the human heart do we

discover any reason why Man should be the exclusive possessor of sparks

of Divine light?”