Life of the Spider

Jean-Henri Fabre

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pubOne.info present you this new edition. The Spider has a bad name: to most of us, she represents an odious, noxious animal, which every one hastens to crush under foot. Against this summary verdict the observer sets the beast's industry, its talent as a weaver, its wiliness in the chase, its tragic nuptials and other characteristics of great interest. Yes, the Spider is well worth studying, apart from any scientific reasons; but she is said to be poisonous and that is her crime and the primary cause of the repugnance wherewith she inspires us. Poisonous, I agree, if by that we understand that the animal is armed with two fangs which cause the immediate death of the little victims which it catches; but there is a wide difference between killing a Midge and harming a man. However immediate in its effects upon the insect entangled in the fatal web, the Spider's poison is not serious for us and causes less inconvenience than a Gnat-bite. That, at least, is what we can safely say as regards the great majority of the Spiders of our regions.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 06 novembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819935445
• Langue: English

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THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER
CHAPTER I: THE BLACK-BELLIED TARANTULA
The Spider has a bad name: to most of us, sherepresents an odious, noxious animal, which every one hastens tocrush under foot. Against this summary verdict the observer setsthe beast’s industry, its talent as a weaver, its wiliness in thechase, its tragic nuptials and other characteristics of greatinterest. Yes, the Spider is well worth studying, apart from anyscientific reasons; but she is said to be poisonous and that is hercrime and the primary cause of the repugnance wherewith sheinspires us. Poisonous, I agree, if by that we understand that theanimal is armed with two fangs which cause the immediate death ofthe little victims which it catches; but there is a wide differencebetween killing a Midge and harming a man. However immediate in itseffects upon the insect entangled in the fatal web, the Spider’spoison is not serious for us and causes less inconvenience than aGnat-bite. That, at least, is what we can safely say as regards thegreat majority of the Spiders of our regions.
Nevertheless, a few are to be feared; and foremostamong these is the Malmignatte, the terror of the Corsicanpeasantry. I have seen her settle in the furrows, lay out her weband rush boldly at insects larger than herself; I have admired hergarb of black velvet speckled with carmine-red; above all, I haveheard most disquieting stories told about her. Around Ajaccio andBonifacio, her bite is reputed very dangerous, sometimes mortal.The countryman declares this for a fact and the doctor does notalways dare deny it. In the neighbourhood of Pujaud, not far fromAvignon, the harvesters speak with dread of Theridionlugubre , {1} first observed by Léon Dufour in the Catalonianmountains; according to them, her bite would lead to seriousaccidents. The Italians have bestowed a bad reputation on theTarantula, who produces convulsions and frenzied dances in theperson stung by her. To cope with ‘tarantism, ’ the name given tothe disease that follows on the bite of the Italian Spider, youmust have recourse to music, the only efficacious remedy, so theytell us. Special tunes have been noted, those quickest to affordrelief. There is medical choreography, medical music. And have wenot the tarentella, a lively and nimble dance, bequeathed to usperhaps by the healing art of the Calabrian peasant?
Must we take these queer things seriously or laughat them? From the little that I have seen, I hesitate to pronouncean opinion. Nothing tells us that the bite of the Tarantula may notprovoke, in weak and very impressionable people, a nervous disorderwhich music will relieve; nothing tells us that a profuseperspiration, resulting from a very energetic dance, is not likelyto diminish the discomfort by diminishing the cause of the ailment.So far from laughing, I reflect and enquire, when the Calabrianpeasant talks to me of his Tarantula, the Pujaud reaper of his Theridion lugubre , the Corsican husbandman of hisMalmignatte. Those Spiders might easily deserve, at least partly,their terrible reputation.
The most powerful Spider in my district, theBlack-bellied Tarantula, will presently give us something to thinkabout, in this connection. It is not my business to discuss amedical point, I interest myself especially in matters of instinct;but, as the poison-fangs play a leading part in the huntress’manoeuvres of war, I shall speak of their effects by the way. Thehabits of the Tarantula, her ambushes, her artifices, her methodsof killing her prey: these constitute my subject. I will preface itwith an account by Léon Dufour, {2} one of those accounts in whichI used to delight and which did much to bring me into closer touchwith the insect. The Wizard of the Landes tells us of the ordinaryTarantula, that of the Calabrias, observed by him in Spain:
‘ Lycosa tarantula by preference inhabitsopen places, dry, arid, uncultivated places, exposed to the sun.She lives generally— at least when full-grown— in undergroundpassages, regular burrows, which she digs for herself. Theseburrows are cylindrical; they are often an inch in diameter and runinto the ground to a depth of more than a foot; but they are notperpendicular. The inhabitant of this gut proves that she is at thesame time a skilful hunter and an able engineer. It was a questionfor her not only of constructing a deep retreat that could hide herfrom the pursuit of her foes: she also had to set up herobservatory whence to watch for her prey and dart out upon it. TheTarantula provides for every contingency: the underground passage,in fact, begins by being vertical, but, at four or five inches fromthe surface, it bends at an obtuse angle, forms a horizontalturning and then becomes perpendicular once more. It is at theelbow of this tunnel that the Tarantula posts herself as a vigilantsentry and does not for a moment lose sight of the door of herdwelling; it was there that, at the period when I was hunting her,I used to see those eyes gleaming like diamonds, bright as a cat’seyes in the dark.
‘The outer orifice of the Tarantula’s burrow isusually surmounted by a shaft constructed throughout by herself. Itis a genuine work of architecture, standing as much as an inchabove the ground and sometimes two inches in diameter, so that itis wider than the burrow itself. This last circumstance, whichseems to have been calculated by the industrious Spider, lendsitself admirably to the necessary extension of the legs at themoment when the prey is to be seized. The shaft is composed mainlyof bits of dry wood joined by a little clay and so artisticallylaid, one above the other, that they form the scaffolding of astraight column, the inside of which is a hollow cylinder. Thesolidity of this tubular building, of this outwork, is ensuredabove all by the fact that it is lined, upholstered within, with atexture woven by the Lycosa’s {3} spinnerets and continuedthroughout the interior of the burrow. It is easy to imagine howuseful this cleverly-manufactured lining must be for preventinglandslip or warping, for maintaining cleanliness and for helpingher claws to scale the fortress.
‘I hinted that this outwork of the burrow was notthere invariably; as a matter of fact, I have often come acrossTarantulas’ holes without a trace of it, perhaps because it hadbeen accidentally destroyed by the weather, or because the Lycosamay not always light upon the proper building-materials, or,lastly, because architectural talent is possibly declared only inindividuals that have reached the final stage, the period ofperfection of their physical and intellectual development.
‘One thing is certain, that I have had numerousopportunities of seeing these shafts, these out-works of theTarantula’s abode; they remind me, on a larger scale, of the tubesof certain Caddis-worms. The Arachnid had more than one object inview in constructing them: she shelters her retreat from thefloods; she protects it from the fall of foreign bodies which,swept by the wind, might end by obstructing it; lastly, she uses itas a snare by offering the Flies and other insects whereon shefeeds a projecting point to settle on. Who shall tell us all thewiles employed by this clever and daring huntress?
‘Let us now say something about my ratherdiverting Tarantula-hunts. The best season for them is the monthsof May and June. The first time that I lighted on this Spider’sburrows and discovered that they were inhabited by seeing her cometo a point on the first floor of her dwelling— the elbow which Ihave mentioned— I thought that I must attack her by main force andpursue her relentlessly in order to capture her; I spent wholehours in opening up the trench with a knife a foot long by twoinches wide, without meeting the Tarantula. I renewed the operationin other burrows, always with the same want of success; I reallywanted a pickaxe to achieve my object, but I was too far from anykind of house. I was obliged to change my plan of attack and Iresorted to craft. Necessity, they say, is the mother ofinvention.
‘It occurred to me to take a stalk, topped withits spikelet, by way of a bait, and to rub and move it gently atthe orifice of the burrow. I soon saw that the Lycosa’s attentionand desires were roused. Attracted by the bait, she came withmeasured steps towards the spikelet. I withdrew it in good time alittle outside the hole, so as not to leave the animal time forreflexion; and the Spider suddenly, with a rush, darted out of herdwelling, of which I hastened to close the entrance. The Tarantula,bewildered by her unaccustomed liberty, was very awkward in evadingmy attempts at capture; and I compelled her to enter a paper bag,which I closed without delay.
‘Sometimes, suspecting the trap, or perhaps lesspressed by hunger, she would remain coy and motionless, at a slightdistance from the threshold, which she did not think it opportuneto cross. Her patience outlasted mine. In that case, I employed thefollowing tactics: after making sure of the Lycosa’s position andthe direction of the tunnel, I drove a knife into it on the slant,so as to take the animal in the rear and cut off its retreat bystopping up the burrow. I seldom failed in my attempt, especiallyin soil that was not stony. In these critical circumstances, eitherthe Tarantula took fright and deserted her lair for the open, orelse she stubbornly remained with her back to the blade. I wouldthen give a sudden jerk to the knife, which flung both the earthand the Lycosa to a distance, enabling me to capture her. Byemploying this hunting-method, I sometimes caught as many asfifteen Tarantulae within the space of an hour.
‘In a few cases, in which the Tarantula was underno misapprehension as to the trap which I was setting for her, Iwas not a little surprised, when I pushed the stalk far enough downto twist it round her hiding-place, to see her play with thespikelet more or less contemptuously and push it away with herlegs, without troubling to retreat to the back of her lair.
‘The A