Where is the object that does not become beautiful when seen through the lens of intelligent inquiry? —Octavius Pickard
Little Miss Muffet may scream and run away at the sight of a spider, but I smile when I find one hanging around in my garden. Some, like the yellow garden spider, are easy to spot, but others require some peering, poking and prodding. Researchers speculate that there is almost always a spider within 10 feet of us at any given time. In a garden, that’s good news because they surpass birds in their insect consumption, making them essential for any organic endeavors.
This time of year, I often spot the tell-tale wheel and spoke webs of yellow garden spiders hanging between tomato stakes or zinnia stalks. Spider webs are the most amazing material. They are stronger than Kevlar when compared by weight, and the common garden spider can produce up to seven different kinds including silk that is resistant to bacteria.
In addition to the orb webs, my garden also hosts funnel webs spun by trap door spiders and sheet webs spun by bowl and doily Spiders. There are also a bunch of spiders scuttling around that don’t use webs for catching supper. My favorite of these is the crab spider. This little trickster is about the same size, legs outspread, as the eraser on the end of your pencil and is hard to spot because it hides out in flowers and cabbages—changing color to match. Crab spiders capture and eat cabbage moths but will also dine on aphids, mites and other tiny sap-suckers which makes them important predators in my garden.
Another non-web-spinner, the wolf spider, earns a living on the ground. Aptly named, this eight-legged hunter uses speed to capture crickets, grasshoppers, earwigs, ants and flies. And, even better, wolf spiders are great meals for baby birds. I have a friend who recently videotaped days of Baltimore oriole parents feeding spiders and egg sacs to their nestlings. She researched it and discovered that spiders are full of a nutrient, taurine, that is essential for baby bird brain development.
Many spiders overwinter in my garden debris and emerge as the weather warms to mate and lay eggs. Last spring, as I was perched on the hill above my house, I noticed glints and glimmers of light floating through the afternoon haze.
I watched with curiosity as more and more of these shimmers wafted across the field in front of me. I finally realized what I was seeing. Pin-head sized spiderlings dangling from the bottom of their own silk threads: legs flung wide as they hitched a ride on the light breeze. If you have read “Charlotte’s Web” then you know that each baby spider journeys away from home on the slenderest balloon that air can move.
The air was magically full of them, and two or three even ended up catching on my hat brim. They hung there for a minute, then climbed up to the top side, did a four-legged handstand, stuck their abdomens in the air, released a fine thread of silk, and let go to ride again. As they floated away, I blew them gently in the direction of my garden.
Perhaps one of those little paratroopers is building a web there, now. I hope so. Free pest control is beautiful even if it does come with eight legs that scare the screams out of me when I accidentally walk through a web and worry that the big spider who used to hang in the middle is now hanging out under my shirt.
The story above appears in our September / October 2020 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!