Most wild animals are either indifferent or fearful towards humans, preferring to run away when they realize a human has noticed them — or attack when they cannot escape. Spiders are no different in this regard. Many of them are too short-sighted, or live on too small a scale, to recognize humans as other animals and not, say, unusually mobile parts of the landscape. If they do, they deduce that we are neither food nor fellow spiders (for spiders, generally antisocial creatures, these overlap considerably), and they try to get out of our way.
All this means that watching spiders is generally a one-sided relationship. Jumping spiders (family Salticidae1) are an exception — spiders that watch back. Continue reading Jumping Spiders I Have Known
Pope Francis’ much-hyped encyclical drops today. Are you prepared to sound smart? Here, in no particular order, are 7 references that will convince your readers you didn’t find out what an “encyclical” was yesterday. THANK ME LATER, PUNDITS. Continue reading 7 Things To Name-Drop In Your “Laudato Si” Thinkpiece
This may be my last spider post of the year. Spiders’ lives are short here, and for the past few months they have had one obsession: to mate and reproduce before they die in the winter cold. Males go wandering in search of females, often getting lost and ending up in people’s houses. Females make as many egg sacs as they can, which they will guard until they die. If the eggs last the winter, they will hatch in the spring. Continue reading Spiderblogging: Love Hurts
Since my last visit to the lakeside, there’s a whole new crop of increasingly bizarre insect babies to be found on milkweed, thistle, and goldenrod. Photos and explanations after the jump, brought to you by that weird person who stares at leaves.
Continue reading Tangled Bank #2: My God, It’s Full of Weird Larvae