The spider was in a rare temper as she hurried back to the dark corner
where she had her home.
“Upon my word,” she muttered, “it is too bad! This is the third time
that wretched housemaid has swept my web away. The ignorant creature
calls me an insect. I am not an insect. My body is in two parts instead
of three; my head is part of my chest; and I have eight legs instead of
six.”
The spider sat in her dark corner thinking very hard. Presently a
buzzing sound caught her ears, which happened to be placed at the end of
her feet. Her six pairs of eyes glistened with anger.
“There’s that old bluebottle again,” she murmured. “His noise makes my
head ache. If I make haste and spin another web, perhaps I can catch him
before the maid comes with her broom.”
Having made up her mind, the spider began. On the underpart of her body
were four tiny tubes, each with about a thousand still tinier holes.
From each tube came a thousand delicate threads made of a gummy fluid.
The spider’s hind feet combed and twisted them into one fine thread.
The thread gradually increased in length until a draught caught it and
carried it to the edge of the window-curtain, to which it clung.
Several other threads were then stretched from point to point.
“Now,” said the spider, “I can go on building my web.”
Line after line appeared as if by magic. The lines crossed and
recrossed, and at every point where they touched a tiny drop of sticky
fluid held them firmly together.
The spider viewed her work with satisfaction.
Lastly, she ran a more delicate thread round and round in spiral
fashion. At the end of an hour the web was complete.
“Now I will test it,” said the spider; and she tried her work here and
there, and found it quite good.
Only a short time passed before the big fly buzzed into the elastic
strands. The more he struggled, the more he became entangled.
The spider was hungry and very impatient. She darted from her lair and
seized the fly with her terrible claws.
At the end of the feelers were tubes from which she poured poison into
the body of her prisoner, while with her fore feet she entangled still
further the fly’s legs and wings.
In a few moments the bluebottle was quite still. Securely bound up in
the sticky strands, bitten and poisoned, it was clear that he would
never again buzz about in the sunshine. Then the spider enjoyed a better
meal than she had had for a long time.
An hour later the housemaid came along, and, catching sight of the web,
she flicked it with her duster.
“That miserable insect has been at its tricks again,” she said.
The spider was just settling down to a quiet nap after her hearty meal.
She did not like being disturbed, but it did not matter so much now. She
simply smiled to herself. (See articles on Spiders; Flies and Insects in
general in Book of the Animal Kingdom.)