The only direct evidence which has come to me regarding the bite
of the hundred-legged crawler was from an English naturalist whom
I met in Venezuela. He was bitten on the ankle by a centipede
nearly a foot long. So severe was the laceration that his sock
was clotted with blood before he could get it off. The two
punctures were marked. Almost immediately the ankle began to
swell. The pain he describes as being equal to a bad toothache.
It kept him awake all that night. He had some fever, which,
however, he attributes rather to the loss of sleep than to any
specific action of the poison, as there were no other general
symptoms. In the morning the pain had abated a good deal, and he
believes that he could have gone about his pursuits had he been
able to get his sock and shoe on. He noted some discoloration
about the wound. Late in the afternoon he was hobbling about. A
week in a carpet slipper was the extent of disability which he
suffered. On these evidences it would seem just, for the present,
to set down the scorpion and the centipede as painful, rather
than dangerous, assailants.
Diseased imagination could invent no creature more horrific of
appearance than the tarantula. Its bristling and hostile aspect,
the swift ferocity of its rush, its great size, and its
enthusiastic preference for combat as against flight, are
sufficient to account for the fear and respect in which it is
generally held. But, though several species of the huge spider
are native to the United States, and others frequently drop out
of banana bunches from South or Central America, to the
discomfiture of the unsuspecting grocer, no authentic instance of
death from tarantula poison in this country is obtainable. St.
Louis papers please copy, particularly that one which, several
years ago, announced in appropriately black headlines:
IN TWO WEEKS Three Men Have Died From Bites of Tarantulas,
proceeding to explain that the victims were banana handlers in
the wholesale fruit district. No names were supplied--a common
phenomenon in this class of obituary notice. Search in the
coroner's records failed to bring to light any case of the sort,
and an exhaustive inquiry in the fruit district was equally
unproductive. The report was a pure fake.
Apparently of the same nature is the "news story" of a
Californian who, presumably mistaking a tarantula for a fragrant
floweret, was bitten on the nose and "died in great agony." That,
of course, is the proper way to die under such circumstances.
They all do it--in print.
Now let us see about the "agony." Herbert H. Smith, the
naturalist and collector, saw a man bitten on the bare foot by a
tarantula (Mygale) so hard as to draw blood. There was very
little swelling, and the man paid no heed to the occurrence, but
went on with his work.
I have talked with a Southern Pacific Railroad fireman who was
jabbed on the wrist by a large tarantula. Some years before, he
had been stung on the cheek by a "bald" hornet. He wasn't
inclined to make any choice between the two except that the
tarantula (not the wound) "looked a d----sight more scary." He
didn't let the bite interfere with his job, even for the day.
On the other hand, Dr. Murray-Aaron records serious symptoms
following two bites upon the hand by a large female trapdoor
tarantula; pain comparable to that of the worst earache,
involuntary twitching of arms, legs, lips, and tongue, great
swelling and discoloration of the hand and forearm, and
considerable suffering for four days, with occasionally recurrent
pains for a month. This, however, was in Haiti. And even there,
he believes, death never follows tarantula bite unless the
subject is in a depleted state of resistance from blood-disease
or other cause.
Under the heading "Fatal Spider Bite" there is a considerable and
interesting newspaper bibliography. The details do not analyze
well. Often the name of the supposed victim doesn't appear; and
where names and specifications are given, the evidence is hardly
sufficient, as a rule, to convict the insect of any crime more
serious than mayhem. For example, a young woman in Brooklyn awoke
one morning to find a swollen spot on her body. On the bed was
(according to allegation) a spider. Some ten days later she died.
For a long period she had been in ill health. Yet the death was
credited to the spider, though specific symptoms of venomous
poisoning were lacking.
The instance of a young woman in an Eastern state is significant.
Thrusting her foot into an old slipper, she felt a sharp jab upon
the point of her index digit. Upon hasty removal of the footgear,
she saw, or supposed she saw, a large and ferocious spider dart
forth. This, to her mind, was evidence both conclusive and
damning. Seizing upon the carving knife, she promptly cut off her
perfectly good toe, bound up the wound, and sent for the doctor,
thereby blossoming out in next day's print as a "Heroine who had
Saved her own life by her Marvelous Presence of Mind." The
thoughtful will wonder, however, whether the lady wouldn't have
got at the real root of the matter by cutting off her head
instead of her toe.