STRANGE SPIDERS.--THE HOUSE-SPIDER.--HOW THEY CAPTURE THEIR
PREY.--HOW THEY FIGHT.--FIGHT BETWEEN A WASP AND A SPIDER.--THE
SPIDER HAS ITS LEGS CUT OFF, AND IS CARRIED AWAY.--BURROW
SPIDER WATCHING FOR ITS PREY.
Now I must pause a little in that great jungle, and recount to you some
of the queer things which I have seen among the spiders--the burrowing
spiders, the house-spiders, the wall-spiders, and the spiders which
weave their big and far-spreading webs among the trees of the forest or
the tall grass of the open fields. I hope you will feel as interested as
I did when you learn how smart many of them are.
There are a very great variety of spiders in the country I have
explored. Some are of queer shape. Each species has its peculiar habits.
I often wish I had devoted more of my time to the study of their habits,
and to ascertaining the way in which they catch their prey; but what I
have observed I will relate to you. I will speak to you first of the
house-spiders, and what I saw of them.
In many of the little huts where I lived, the walls of which were made
of the bark of trees, there were always several house-spiders, which I
took good care not to kill, for they were seemingly inoffensive, only
they were great enemies to the cockroaches, insects, and flies.
Sometimes in the evening, when I laid down on my acoco (bed of sticks),
by the light of a torch my eyes would rest upon the wall, and I would
see emerging from some crack a queer-looking gray spider, and now and
then cockroaches, which swarm in the African huts, or some other kind of
insect, would come out on the walls. Then the spider would slyly advance
toward the insect, taking great care to approach it from behind, in
order not to be seen by the unsuspecting victim, with which it is soon
to engage in a deadly struggle, for the spider is brave and voracious,
and is not to be easily frightened by the size of its antagonist.
These house-spiders are of a dull gray, which color assists in
concealing its approach. After leaving its lair and getting a good
position, it remains perfectly rigid and motionless, often for half an
hour, waiting for some unlucky cockroach to pass by. At last the
cockroach rushes past. In an instant the spider, with great impetuosity,
pounces upon him. Then ensues a tug and a battle which is of great
interest--a conflict for life on the part of the cockroach, a combat for
food on the part of the spider, which for the time seems more voracious
and ferocious than a tiger or leopard. The battle is often prolonged for
more than half an hour. The great black African cockroach grows to a
large size, and is a very strong and formidable opponent for the spider.
The latter, after pouncing on its victim, fastens on its back, and, to
prevent being borne off, clings with two of his hairy hind legs, which
seem to have little hooks, to the floor or to the wall. All the
cockroach's endeavors and frantic exertions are to escape. He tugs and
jerks, and generally succeeds at first in dragging its enemy off for
some distance. The desperate struggle goes on, the spider using all its
power and strength. It manages again to get a hold with its feet. At
last it succeeds in fastening its head on the body of the cockroach, and
begins sucking away at the juices of the latter, which, at the pain of
the first bite, makes the greatest efforts to escape, for it knows that
the deadly struggle has begun. Then there would be a tremendous fight. I
sometimes thought the cockroach would escape, both being exhausted. Then
would come a pause. Presently the struggle would recommence, the spider
sucking away all the time, and the poor cockroach at last succumbing,
whereupon his enemy drags off the body to some corner or hiding-place
where it can be devoured at leisure.
Once in the daytime, a few days after seeing the fight I have been
describing to you, I saw the same spider, for I knew its place of
hiding, come out after an insect. It was creeping slowly toward its
prey, when a wasp--one of those beautiful, long-legged, and slender
wasps, with striped bodies, which are so common here--came to attack the
spider. Quickly she flew over the spider, her long legs hanging down and
plying between the legs of the poor spider, who was now in as bad a
plight as the cockroach was a few days before. In this latter case,
cunning instead of strength was to be used.
The wasp kept flying above the spider, moving her long legs with great
rapidity between the legs of the spider, while her head was touching
that of her opponent, and giving a bite from time to time. Then the
spider tried to run away, but could not, for the long legs of the wasp
moved between his legs in a backward sort of a way, which prevented the
spider from advancing. The wasp all the time was hovering above the
spider with very quick motions, her legs moving so fast that I could
not see all their movements. Suddenly the wasp turned round, and put her
head down close to the right front leg of the spider, to which it gave
one or two bites, just where it is joined to the body, and the leg
dropped down; then she worked away at the head for a few seconds, then
again turned round and gave a bite or two to the leg next to the one
that had just been cut, and this dropped down also. I had never seen any
thing fly so fast. At last the poor spider seemed perfectly stunned; he
could hardly move. I considered the fight over, and that the wasp was
victor. Another leg dropped down, and then another, all being cut just
where they are attached to the body, till at last they were all cut
down. When the last hind leg dropped, the wasp seized the body of the
spider, and flew away outside of my little hut to devour it.
I missed my spider very much afterwards, and the cockroaches had their
own way for a few days without fear of being devoured, till another
house-spider made its appearance.
In one of my little huts there were other species of spider besides the
one I have spoken to you about, whose little webs would be built in
places where they would be most apt to entangle the flies. After these
had been caught, the spider would immediately come out and suck their
blood. However small the fly might be, the spider would come, and even
when only a musquito had been taken, it would come, but it would give
only one or two sucks, and then would go away. You will agree that there
must be very little to suck out of a musquito that has not been feeding
on a human being.
In the tall grass which sometimes grows round the village, or in the
large open spaces where trees have been cut down, there is found a
tremendous big bright yellow and black spider, whose web spreads over a
space of several feet, and so thick and strong is it that, when I have
got entangled in one, I could certainly feel a slight impediment to my
walk, or the moving of my arm. The threads of the web are yellow, the
same color as one part of the spider. This spider belongs probably to
the genus Mygale. Some of them grow to be of immense size; I have
frequently seen them with a body as large as a sparrow's egg.
Happily, the bite of this spider is not dangerous, for one day, as I was
pursuing a bird and was in the midst of a lot of grass, the blades of
which stuck to my skin and cut me like a razor, and I was watching and
pursuing the bird in order not to lose sight of it, I got entangled in
one of these big webs--by far the biggest web built by any spider I have
ever heard of. I looked round to see and get out of the spider's way,
but before I was aware I got a bite which was almost as painful as the
sting of a scorpion. In my fright I tumbled down. I had no ammonia with
me, consequently I returned at once to the village, where I had some,
but by the time I reached home I felt no ill effect, the pain having
left me a few minutes after the bite.
These big spiders are said by the natives to make these large, spreading
webs in order to catch little birds, the blood of which they suck. I
never saw a bird caught, nor even any remains of feathers in the web,
but from the strength of the web I am certain that many little birds, if
once caught, could not get out, and that this big spider is fully equal
to mastering little birds, for its strength must be very great if it is
as strong in proportion to its size as other spiders are.
[Illustration: BIT BY A SPIDER.]
At any rate, if birds are caught in their webs, it must be very seldom.
But if their webs do not catch birds, they are tremendous traps for
flies, wasps, beetles, and insects of all kinds; for I have never long
watched one of them without seeing some living thing of one kind or
another caught, and then immediately the big, long-legged spider would
come swiftly and suck the blood of the victim; two or three suckings
would finish up a common black fly. They are very voracious, and attack
the prey with great vigor.
They must like the powerful sun, for many of their webs are built in the
open spaces where Master Sol has his own way. The rain can not incommode
them as he does us.
When one of these webs is finished it will remain perfect a long time;
sometimes it will stand for months before the owner begins to make
another.
One day in the forest I spied not far from the ground, just by an old
dead tree, a little bit of a long-legged spider waging a terrible
conflict with a caterpillar, which, without exaggeration, must have been
at least thirty or forty times larger than the body of the little,
slender, and long-legged spider. I immediately took from my pocket my
magnifying-glass, in order to see better; then saw, about four inches
from the ground, spreading from under the dead branch of the tree,
several threads of a web which hung down, embracing a space of four or
five inches, and ending in one thread as it came near the caterpillar.
That single thread was entangled in the hair of the caterpillar and
round its neck, and the caterpillar hung by it. The end of his body
scarcely touched the ground. Then there was a desperate struggle. I
suppose the caterpillar, before being caught, was down on the ground
quietly eating some leaves, and the spider dropped down upon it like a
wild beast would pounce upon its prey.
I lay flat on the ground to look at the conflict. This time the long
legs of the spider were of the same use to it as were those of the wasp
in the other fight I have related.
For a long while there was a great struggle, the caterpillar shaking and
turning round and round as it hung by that single thread; often its
body would twist into a circle, the end touching the head, when
suddenly, at one of these twists, the spider, by some dexterous
movements, spun one of its threads round the caterpillar, binding the
tail to the head. The caterpillar, by a desperate effort, broke the
thread, and freed the lower part of its body. The spider was so small
that I had to use the magnifying-glass all the time in order to watch
its movements. At first the attention of the spider was entirely engaged
in securing its prey. When the caterpillar was struggling hard to
disentangle itself, it would come down and spin thread after thread
round the hairy body of its victim, and then unite them to the single
thread.
Now and then, with its pincers, which appeared through the
magnifying-glass to be very large in comparison with the size of the
body, it would try to cut the large pincers of the caterpillar. The end
of its long legs, as they came round the head and eyes of the
caterpillar, seemed to annoy it terribly, to judge by the struggles of
the worm. At last the spider succeeded in seizing the base of the right
pincer of the caterpillar, and tried to cut it, but in vain. In less
than fifteen seconds it returned to the task, and went at the left
pincer, but with apparently no better success. Then, after a while, its
attacks were directed to a spot between the pincers. He kept at it and
kept at it, apparently sucking the blood, till finally, after
thirty-seven minutes of deadly conflict, the caterpillar, a mammoth in
comparison with the size of the spider, hung dead. Then the spider
finished sucking the blood of its victim. While the spider was carrying
on this deadly combat, it did not mind me when I touched its web with a
little stick: it would just ascend the single thread by which it was
suspended, and then, within a few seconds, would return to the fight.
After the caterpillar had been killed, when I touched the web it would
go up, and remain there for a long time--three or four minutes--before
it came down. Finally I took hold of the caterpillar; down came the
spider, and with him part of his web. The spider ran along the ground
for a few inches, then suddenly rolled itself into a ball and lay
apparently dead, the legs being twisted round the body. It appeared to
me that the spider thought a wasp was going to attack it, and thus
protected itself.
After a little while I came to look at the poor dead caterpillar, and
saw a few ants hard at work carrying it off somewhere to be devoured.
Among the great many species of spiders there are some which are very
curious. Among the most remarkable are those which burrow holes in the
ground and live in them. These ground-spiders are short, and have
powerful fangs and legs.
Several species of spiders have short legs, and flat, oval bodies,
surrounded by pointed spurs, looking, when taken from their webs, more
like bugs than veritable spiders.
The cave in which the burrow spiders live is but a few inches long,
built in the shape of a tube, from the opening of which they watch for
their prey. The interior of the burrow is like felt, and is so arranged
that it forms a tunnel that prevents the earth from falling in.
Some of the burrow spiders are called trap-door spiders, on account of
the curious way in which the entrance of their abode is guarded. A
trap-door closes the entrance. This door is made of the same material as
the interior of the tube, to which it is attached by a kind of hinge,
by which it falls squarely upon it. This trap-door is made to protect
the spider from its enemies, among which are wasps and many species of
ants. These latter sometimes make short work of a spider.
This door is a marvel; the outside is generally covered with earth
similar in color to the ground by which it is surrounded, thus rendering
it difficult to find the burrow.
Trap-door spiders are found in many parts of the world.
But many species of spiders live in burrows that have no doors.
Some of these burrow spiders go out at night as well as in the daytime,
but they hardly ever move far from their burrows. I have often seen them
watching from the entrance of their caves for prey. How queer they look!
They must have a wonderful sense of hearing, for at the least noise they
run back inside of their burrows. They seem to know when the noise does
not come from an enemy, but from some insect upon which they intend to
prey. One day one of these burrow spiders was watching for its food,
when suddenly it pounced upon a big caterpillar which had made its
appearance, and, after a desperate struggle, the poor caterpillar was
carried into the burrow, though still alive.
After half an hour I carefully demolished the burrow, and found the
spider at the bottom; the caterpillar was partly devoured, and I saw the
remains of legs, wings, and heads of insects which had been captured and
eaten up. I took the spider out; it seemed stupefied, and walked to and
fro as if it did not know where to go.
When once a spider has built its burrow it dwells in it for a long
time. These burrows are built in such a manner that when it rains the
water can not get in.
Have you ever thought, when looking at the web of a spider, what an
admirable piece of work it is, and how this thread is manufactured? No
lace is more beautifully worked. The thread is formed by a semi-liquid
secretion, which comes out, at the will of the spider, through minute
apertures, and which hardens into a thread by contact with the
atmosphere.
How strange that is!
Spiders must have a great amount of knowledge, and are, no doubt, good
barometers, for when a storm is impending they never will build or mend
a web. There is a good reason for their not being extravagant in the use
of their silk, for, although they can use at their will the secretion
from which the thread is made, it requires time to reproduce it; so when
you see a spider spinning new webs, it is a sign of fine weather coming.
If you look closely at the web of a spider, you will surely be surprised
at their wonderful skill. First a net-work of strong threads is built;
these are the main beams, and between them the net made of smaller
thread is spun. These webs are exceedingly elastic, for they have to
resist the power of the wind. When the web has been long built, and has
become stretched, they will sometimes go and fetch a little piece of
wood, which they hang by a thread, and haul it to a spot where they
think it will steady their structure.
The threads of spiders are produced from an organ called the
"spinneret," which is placed at the extremity of the body. The
spinnerets are arranged in pairs, and are four, six, or eight in
number.
The spider generally works at its web with its head down, lowering
itself by its thread. The whole is worked by the sense of touch, the
threads being guided by one of the hind legs. If you take the trouble to
watch a spider working, you will see it work just as I have described.
The semi-liquid secretion is forced out through very small apertures,
which may be called miniature tubes; they look very much like very
minute hairs. These tubes cover the spinnerets, which are externally
like little rounded projections, but their shape is not always the same.
The threads become quite strong, for after leaving the tubes they are
united together, and hence are much stronger than if the thread was
composed of a single strand.