My Own Monster

I rarely get to contribute any of my own photos, but I was so proud of this one that I had to share. That's right. Mr. Arachnophobia here mustered up enough courage to clamber into the ivy to get a shot of this beast up close. No sedatives or change of underpants needed.

Can anyone tell me this spidey's species? It lives in my backyard in the Sacramento valley of California, if that helps. I'd measure it in at around a two and a half inch leg span.

It never tried to snare any of my children, so I let it be. If some of the coloring looks to be off, that's because I had to use a flash (don't any of you purists give me a hard time! The monster was in the shadows, and it was back lit. Don't judge me.).

Continuing with the orb weaver theme, here's the latest and greatest from Madagascar.

Researchers have discovered Nephila komaci, the largest web spinning spider known to man. Yippee. Another beast to fuel my nightmares.

The females can have a legspan of 4.7 inches and spin a web over three feet across. The males are rather small, as seen in this mated pair. Big Mama is giving Little Papa a ride (or something like that).

Harvestmen Fights

For some reason, I assumed that a battle between two harvestmen would be a true battle royale. A real rumble, with legs flapping, mouth parts flashing, and chitin flying. But no, when Steve took this photo of two harvestmen locked in arachnid combat, he noted that it was fairly anticlimactic. It consisted of nothing more than a 10-minute slap-fest involving their pedipalps. When at last the proverbial dust had settled, the one on the right gave up in frustration (having been held at bay by the larger one on the left) and walked away, neither one appearing to have received the least bit of harm.

But Steve wonders if this may have been part of a mating ritual. Anyone know? If so, we may need to teach them a thing or two about courtship and respect.

Thanks for the photo, Steve.

When Lisa unlocked her door to help her husband inside she was greeted with the lovely lady below. How do I, an office monkey with meager biological training, know it's a wolf spider? Because I've been posting on uglies for nearly four years now.

I can tell by the fact that she's carrying her egg sac (that silken orb) by her spinnerets, which behavior is unique to wolf spiders. In just a short while the spiderlings inside will burst forth and commit another behavior unique to wolf spiders: the bearing of the young on the mother's back.






















There are many varieties of wolf spiders, and they're found pretty much everywhere. If you're reading this blog, you're almost guaranteed to have one lurking nearby. That being said, not all wolf spiders are equal. Some are large, some are small. Some are avid hunters, some simply lie in wait.

I am aware on at least a weekly basis of the fact that I live in a part of the world (the Sacramento Valley) that doesn't boast of any local spider species that get any larger than a quarter. That fact is one of my chief blessings in life. Some of you might be able to disprove that fact, in case I'm wrong. And if I am wrong, I am very, very happy in my ignorance and misinformation. I don't need to know otherwise.

Thanks for the photo, Lisa. You'll have a whole little wolf spider pack lurking about your house next year.

In The Mop Bucket

Terri encountered this spider in her mop bucket. Now, it takes little provocation for me to walk away from a mopping job. But this? I could legitimately get away with not mopping the kitchen floor for a month, since my wife is understanding when it comes to my arachnophobia. It might almost be worth the encounter...

Anyone know what kind of spider this is? The mop bucket in question is in Phoenix, AZ, USA. Is it a huntsman?

Thanks for the photo, Terri. That penny was awful brave for getting so close to the spider.

Nightmare Composed

Photo source: Afri

Scale me down to the size of one of the spider's pedipalps and insert me into this scene, and you've composed my worst nightmare (well, monster-oriented nightmare).

Thanks, Alan. You've ruined another night's sleep.