Relationship with a Spider

Okay, I admit it.

I've had a relationship with a spider.

For the last four or five weeks.

Behind our sink, there it was - a spider and its webbing.

What might have ended badly for the critter took a different turn.

After my visit to the Spider House at the Natural History Museum in Los Angeles.

There, I learned:

Spiders consume pests; treat 'em well.
They never stray from their web once it's built.
They're masters at the task.

They fed the spiders, the large ones, live crickets.
Held them in a tweezers, and popped 'em into the webs.

So, I thought, ants!

We have ants.
Maybe a few.
Sometimes a hoard.
Damn.

So, I started catching ants.
Put 'em on a piece of paper and flicked them
with my finger,
into the web.

Or on the counter just below it - webbing there, too.
The ant would flail around.
But no success.

Trapped.

The spider drops, grabs the ant, hauls it up and wraps it.
Tight and clean.
For later in the day, I suppose.

Does the spider know?
When I turn the light on in the morning.
It may not yet be out.
But as soon as the light is on.
S/he's out.
Waiting?
For breakfast?
Lunch?
Dinner?

Haven't had any ants for the last few days.
Until I found a few this morning.
Got 'em!
Flicked 'em!
All wrapped up.
By my spider friend.

My family is with me on this.
I told 'em: "The Spider doesn't leave its web."
They ask: "Have you fed your spider today?"

The world has fewer ants right now.
As a result.
Don't think the world minds one bit.
And a happy spider.
And that makes a difference.
At least to me.