Tis the season to be prolific — at least among the wolf spiders. I’ve recently begun seeing a number of females carrying egg sacs. The sacs — each containing dozens of eggs — are attached to their spinnerets so they carry them wherever they go.
The wolf spider is a protective mother. When the eggs hatch the spiderlings crawl onto her back. They grab onto special hairs with a knob-like ending — “hair handles” — to keep themselves from falling off. Clever.
I took this pic September 26, 2016 — the only one I’ve ever managed to get of a female with young. The bodies are translucent yellow; the legs are almost clear which makes them difficult to see.
Wolf spiders are among my favourite spiders. Like their namesake they are hunters, running down their prey instead of spinning a web and waiting for something to tumble into it.
Wolf spider Pardosa spp.
Wikipedia explains it well:
Form follows function is a principle associated with modernist architecture and industrial design in the 20th century. The principle is that the shape of a building or object should be primarily based upon its intended function or purpose.
The architects who developed this concept might well have borrowed it from a spider for the shape of this web certainly meets its intended purpose — a circular pattern of silk threads designed to capture lunch.
It’s not a perfect trap. Stuff happens. Catch a bird (or a careless hiker) and the whole thing goes for naught. A major do-over is required. But flies or little bugs, that’s a different matter. They can be subdued and stored in the cupboard or eaten right away.
Unlike a building, a web can have holes and funky patches. No matter, since the web owner is architect, builder and site inspector. Whatever works, works.
Form and function in action. 🙂
A range of appetites — lust to dust — happening here. The crab spider has snagged a fly for supper and a pair of blister beetles are busy making baby beetles. Meanwhile, almost out of sight, another beetle minding its own business.
Blister beetles (one of the longhorn beetles) are a staple of our roses. Judging by last summer each rose will soon house at least one.
Although the beetles didn’t pay me any attention the crab spider was more alert and started to drag her meal off the petal.
The spider settled down after a few minutes and hauled her catch back up again.
Next time you pass a blossom take a second look — who’s living in your flowers?
Blister beetle Lytta spp. ?
Goldenrod crab spider Misumena vatia
Prickly wild rose Rosa acicularis (Provincial flower of Alberta)
On a trip to the desert yesterday with Jeff I found this speckled spider dangling in a clump of brittlebush. She was almost invisible among the flower stalks.
Using Jeff’s macro lens I was (sort of) able to capture her and parts of her web. A very shallow depth of field turned the clusters of sun-yellow flowers into a pale backdrop.
I handheld the big lens — it weighs more than the camera — so the focus is a tad off. But I’m pleased. Don’t know what the spider thought of it. 🙂
Looking for green lily buds my eyes landed on a stem tipped with this amazing (to me) spider.
Most spiders I meet are rather plain and dark but this one shouted: Look at me! Orange. Yellow. Lime. Black spots!
BugGuide had a name: I’d found a female sixspotted orbweaver.
Sixspotted orbweaver on green lily
Sixspotted orbweaver on green lily
Unfortunately the name was about it. As for many creepy crawlers, information about their lives is lacking. Not as interesting — or as easy — to study as trees or toads or bears, I guess.
While still revelling in my “rare” find, Ma Nature hit me again. The next day I brushed against a stem in the garden and found another sixspot dangling from my finger.
A reminder that seeing is more than looking.
Sixspotted orbweaver Araniella displicata
Green lily Zygadenus elegans
Poet Mary Howit knew a thing or three about spiders. She would have seen this dew-laden silk and dark doorway for the trap it is.
In 1829 she penned lines that became one of the most quoted warnings about false flattery:
“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,
‘Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
We all know what happened to the fly.
Whose parlour are you sitting in?
Padded jacket, gloves, wool scarf, balaclava, boots. I’m still cold. The north wind finds all the cracks in my clothing.
I crawl through the barbwire fence and hike to the trees. Squat on the lee side of an old poplar.
I’m not the first one here: Spread-eagled on the trunk, a wolf spider.
We sit in companionable silence.
Caution: Magician at work.
Amid the raspberry canes, snow and melt drops float in mid-air.
A closer look.
Not only flies are caught in spider-spun threads.