CHAPTER XXIII

Web making spiders—Dangerous wooings—An unkind lady-love—Lizard-eating spiders—Enlightened curiosity—Rival entomologists—Instinct of resignation—A worm-eating spider—Alternative explanation—The dangers of patriotism—Trap-door spiders—Web-flying spiders—Spiders that nearly fly—Spider navigators—The raft and the diving-bell.

NONE of the spiders mentioned in the last chapter are web-makers. These latter are not dancers; that is to say, the males do not dance before the females when they wish to recommend themselves as husbands. Instead, they pull at the strands of the web, whilst stationed at its circumference, in a manner which has a distinct meaning for the female, who sits in the centre, and who replies by other twitches. These may be either of an encouraging or repellent nature, and it is only in the former case that the lover ventures to approach. This, however, he must do with extreme caution, and prepared at any moment to drop and hang suspended by a thread should the object of his attentions, who greatly exceeds him in size, change her mind or conceive some cause of displeasure against him. Should he not be sufficiently quick on such occasions, he is liable to be spun up between the long legs of his lady-love as though he were a fly, and disposed of accordingly. This was observed in 1798 by Raymond Maria de Termayer,who remarks upon it: “Perhaps overpowering hunger compelled her to do it, but the act was very ferocious.”

The most curious thing in thesewebepathiccourtships, as one may call them, is that the female spider seems to know the particular jerk or twitch of any strand of the web which is made by a male, and to distinguish it, perfectly, from the vibrations set in motion by a fly or other insect that enters it, for upon these occasions, though her back may be turned towards her admirer, she does not trouble to look round, whereas in the latter case she would not only do so, but come rushing down to secure her victim—if she were hungry, perhaps it should be added. On the other hand, as has been already mentioned, the male can interpret the wishes of the female from the movement she imparts to the thread, and regulates his conduct accordingly. Webepathy, therefore, does not seem a name ill-chosen to describe this system of intercommunication of ideas.

The spider mentioned above as devouring her lover was the common garden or geometric one, as it is sometimes called, which in England is the largest example of a web-spinner. In other parts of the world, however, web-spinning spiders attain to a much larger size, and their webs, of course, are in proportion. The largest, perhaps, are found in Madagascar, and the gigantic fabrics which many of these weave are curiously utilised by smaller spiders of a parasitic disposition, who spin their own little webs between the thick strands of those of their hosts. Here they live in perfect amity with the latter, in whose presence they find a protection against the attacks ofsmall birds—for these, it would seem, stand in awe of these huge spiders, in whose toils they are sometimes accidentally caught, and by whom they are then devoured. So, at least, Vinson, the historian of the spiders of Madagascar, would seem to imply, if he does not actually make the statement, of which I will not be quite sure.[136]That the greatMygaleof South America eats birds is now an established fact, Bates having given an account of it in his well-known work,The Naturalist on the River Amazon.[137]In this case also the birds—for there were two of them—were caught in a web, but it was not a geometric one, in which the spider sat, but a much denser and more closely woven fabric stretched across a crevice, or irregularity, in the trunk of a tree, the spider—which was of much larger size than the largestEpeira—keeping watch behind it in the recess.

A BIRD-CATCHING SPIDER’S WEB.

This enormous Madagascar spider spins webs so strong that birds are caught and held in them. In one of the large meshes will be seen a small parasitic spider’s web for catching flies and other insects. The smaller spider is not only permitted to do this, but is protected by its host from the attacks of the smaller birds.

Other spiders—as doubtless theMygaleif he can get them—will eat lizards, as the following account by Mr. Frederick Pollock will show: “Having procured from the Deserta Grande some fine specimens of this large and handsome spider (Lycosa—a kind of tarantula) in the early part of this year, and having provided suitable cages with glass lids for them, I was anxious to ascertain how large an animal the largest spider would take; and for this purpose I obtained some lizards about three inches long, including the tail. Three of these lizards were killed and devoured by one spider during the time I kept it. They were eaten bones and head and claws and all, the only remnant of the feast being a small ball about a quarter of an inch in diameter, which was cast asideat the bottom of the cage.”[138]But why were not some larger lizards tried, since there was no difficulty about three inches? Every inch would have increased the fun—I mean have added to the scientific interest. But perhaps there were none larger.

Mr. Pollock goes on to say that “the islands of Madeira, Porto Santo, and Deserta Grande all lie within an area about fifty miles across. They have each its own peculiar largeLycosa, no two being alike; and it is a very remarkable fact that theseLycosævary in size inversely with the magnitude of the island on which they are found—Madeira, the largest island, having the smallestLycosa, and Deserta Grande, the smallest island, having by far the largest spider. The mode of defence of all these varieties ofLycosæis precisely the same. They elevate the thorax, raise the first pair of legs high up, and opening wide asunder their falces, strike at and seize any object, such as the end of a pencil” (or the tail of a lizard) “in a most formidable manner.”[138]

There is another lizard-eating spider, or at least a spider that will eat lizards when formally introduced to them, and that in a very scientifically interesting manner, the lizard showing such a lively sense of its situation, and the jaws of the spider working in a way which is very curious. These jaws, it appears, are double, also “cheliform,” “denticulate,” and several other things, from which I gather that there are two pairs, each pair working something like the claws of a crab, but with a sawing action, adapted to their toothed surface. By an extremely beautiful adjustment, when the spider in question seizesits prey, one pair of jaws holds on to it, whilst the other saws into it, and then the pair which has been sawing, holds, and the pair which has been holding, saws, and so on alternately, a division, and yet, at the same time, a combination of labour.

“Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition.”

“Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,

But yet an union in partition.”

The efficacy of the arrangement was well tested by an Anglo-Indian scientist upon a lizard three inches long,exclusivethis time of the tail. “The spider sprang upon it, and made a seizure immediately behind the shoulder. The poor lizard struggled violently at first, rolling over and over in its agony, but the spider kept firm hold, and gradually sawed away with its double jaws into the very entrails of its victim.”[139]There was an interesting variation between this case and the last, where, it will be remembered, the lizards were eaten “bones and head and claws and all,” whereas here “the only partsuneatenwere the jaws and part of the skin.” This lizard, however, was “at least five inches long from nose to extremity of tail”; but then, again, the spider must have been larger too, though clearly its meal was something in the nature of a feat, since after it “it remained gorged and motionless for about a fortnight, being much swollen and distended.”[139]There is no mention of this in the other case, which would seem to imply that the result was different. If so, we have here a fact of great interest—what fact, scientifically elicited, is not?—but in order to establish it upon a really firm basis, further experiments should bemade, and, once more, as the limit of size has evidently not yet been reached, I would recommend a lizard of six inches long.

This spider, however, now I come to remember, is not really one, but asolpugid, and asolpugidis a creature so like a spider that it used to be thought one some years ago, but now belongs, not only to a family, but to an order of its own, which comes somewhere between the scorpions and the true spiders. They are large creatures, and their bite is very severe, though it does not appear to be poisonous. Some of the species are nocturnal, as is the case with the one above mentioned, which was christenedGaleodes voraxby its discoverer, Captain Hutton, if he indeed discovered it. Captain Hutton, being a great entomologist—to attain which title one has only to put pins through insects—used to lay a sheet on the ground at night, and stand a lantern upon it. Numerous insects were attracted to the light, and this broughtGaleodes—who is a great entomologist too, though without the pins—upon thetapisordraps.[139]

Often there would be fights between two rivals, and of these, or, rather, of the general fighting, and one may also say yielding, habits of the species, Captain Hutton gives the following somewhat curious account. “They plant their true feet” (for theseGaleodeshave a pair which look exactly like feet, but are really their palpi) “firmly on the ground, the body at the same time being elevated and the two pairs of palpi held out in front, to ward off the attack. In this attitude they advance and retire, according as either gains aslight advantage, endeavouring to throw each other to one side, so as to expose some vulnerable part or form an opening for attack; and when this is once effected the fortunate wrestler instantly takes advantage of it, and rushing in, seizes his adversary behind the thorax, and the combat is ended, the vanquished victim yielding himself, without further struggle, to his inevitable fate.” Similarly, “if, in their efforts to get away, they are brought into contact, the one instantly seizes the other and devours him, the victim making no struggle whatever; but if they meet face to face they both enter into a wrestling match for life or death.”

This habit of yielding as soon as there is no more use in struggling seems a very strange one, since it is opposed to the primary instinct of self-preservation, and it is not easy to see how the species can benefit by certain individuals dying in a passive manner, unless, indeed, by refusing to do so they might injure the victor, who, by dying afterwards, would add to the tribal mortality. If this be really the explanation, we are reminded of Huber’s statement as to two queen bees, when each has it in its power to sting the other, being seized with a sort of horror, under the influence of which they separate, thus avoiding the catastrophe of leaving the hive queenless.

Though, as we have seen, there are some spiders which eat birds, and others which eat lizards, yet both these interesting things take place abroad. Here, however, in England, it would seem that we have a spider which eats worms, catching them at the end of a long woven bag which descends into the earth, and into which theworm somehow manages to get. How it does so, however, is not at all clear, since the bag, which is sometimes a foot long, is described as having no opening at either end, the spider living enclosed in it, apparently a permanent prisoner. Still a sac like this would seem as difficult of entry for flies as for worms, and the spider, which is three-quarters of an inch in length, and armed with very large mandibles, or falces—to use the approved word—must, it is plain, live on something. As a matter of fact, it was living on a worm when found by Mr. Brown, who gives the following account of the matter. “On drawing out one of the sacs,” he says, “I observed a worm at the lower end, partially within the sac and partially outside, and it was evident that the spider had been eating a considerable portion of its anterior extremity.” One would have thought that a careful examination of the way in which the worm had got into the sac would have thrown light on the problem, but of this we hear nothing more.

When taken out of the ground the sac was limp and flaccid, but afterwards the spider inflated it, and it was then seen to have some minute valves—“openings,” that is to say, “protected or covered by a little valve or door.” They were not, however, to be detected in every nest—possibly on account of their very small size. That the object of these valvular openings is to admit air seems obvious, for spiders breathe through lungs and require a good supply of oxygen. It was now concluded, both by Mr. Brown and Mr. Newman—a well-known entomologist—that this particular spider lived on worms andresided permanently in a long subterranean sac or bag, which it had the power of inflating with air. A different view, however, was propounded by Mr. Meade—an authority on spiders—who suggested that the worm had only got into the sac by accident, and that the spider, like other subterranean nest-makers, probably came out at night and fed abroad, returning to rest at home during the daytime. To do this it would, indeed, have to unweave one end of its sac—probably the upper one—and then do it up again, but there was no reason, in Mr. Meade’s opinion, why it should not act in this way. To me, however, it seems unlikely that the minute valves, made with such care, should be destroyed in this manner and made afresh every day; and moreover, when Mr. Brown looked again at the sac, in order to test this theory, he could find no evidence of its having been dealt with in this Penelopean manner. There were no traces of fresh silk. The evidence, therefore, seems to be more in favour ofAttipus sulzeri—for that is its name—being a genuine worm-eating spider. If so, it is worthy of all respect as a curiously aberrant form.[140]

These spiders are of a deep brown colour, with a very soft abdomen and a generally half-baked appearance, but with hard, black, shining mandibles. There was only a single individual—evidently the female—in the sacs taken by Mr. Brown, but I myself was the finder of one such sac—for I feel sure it must have been the same—inthe New Forest, and in this a pair were amicably settled, one being about twice the size of the other. This, if I mistake not, was in May, but I also remember, or seem to, that the bag was quite open at one end. Thus, then, stand the facts. Upon them I think we are justified in believing that there is a worm-eating spider in England, but of course it would be a very high honour for any country to have such a creature, so that there is a danger of letting one’s patriotic feelings run away with one.

In these sac-making spiders we see, perhaps, the ancestors of, or rather travellers towards, those which crown a silk-lined perpendicular tunnel with a skilfully made trap-door. The latter is furnished with a hinge, and should it be discovered, the spider, seizing it from within, endeavours with might and main to prevent its being raised. As is well known, the upper surface of these trap-doors, or, as we may call them, lids, are covered by the spider with such materials—leaves, grass, moss, etc.—as surround the site of its nest, so that when shut down they are indistinguishable from the general surface of the ground.

Another use to which the webs of spiders are put is that of a parachute, on which the little creature—for small species alone may enjoy this luxury—sails delicately through the air. This, however is not the nearest approach made by any of the tribe to actual flight, though in practice it almost surpasses that power, even as possessed by many winged insects, who do indeed cleave the air, but cannot ride upon it in a filmy chariot, twinkling in the rays of the sun. Still there is one spider that, thoughit has not yet achieved wings, is in process of developing them. This little semi-Ariel—but the subject will be best done justice to in the glowing language of the Rev. O. P. Cambridge: “Adult male, length rather above two lines. The abdomen is of an elongated oval form, and rather flattened; its upper side is furnished with an epidermis, which is continued, laterally, on either side to an extent considerably exceeding the width of the abdomen, and of a semi-oval or elliptical form; the outer portion of this epidermis, on either side, is capable of being depressed and folded round the abdomen, or elevated and expanded to its full width, after the manner of wings. Mr. H. H. B. Bradley, of Sydney, New South Wales, to whom I am indebted for examples of this exceedingly interesting and remarkable spider, tells me that he has observed them elevating and depressing the flaps, and also actually using them as wings or supporters to sustain the length of their leaps. That this, as with an analogous appendage in the flying squirrel, should be intended for such sustentation one could have but little doubt, after examining it even in the preserved specimens. The three examples were all found on one spot near Sydney, in the month of October, running and jumping on low plants and flowers.”[141]

It is delightful to think of a little delicate spider-body like this, rising gracefully from the petal of one flower, expanding its thin, filmy fringes, and descending in a long slanting line through the air, like a flying squirrel or a galeopithecus, onto the petal of another. Even were its appearance no more than elegant, this would be a most pleasing sight. But it is much more than this.Various hues meet in its diminutive body, and so harmonious and pleasing is the general effect produced by them that the first captor of so much loveliness was enraptured as he gazed on his prize, whilst even Mr. Cambridge, with only dried specimens to fire his imagination, yet cannot choose but exclaim: “It is difficult to describe adequately the great beauty of the colouring of this spider.”[141]

Spiders, then, either through gossamer or their own structural modification, seem engaged in the conquest of the air. There remains but the water, and this element also they have partly subdued. There are raft-spiders and diving-bell spiders. The first, having woven a few dried leaves, stalks, grasses, etc., launches out as courageously from the shore as the first navigator, whose heart, according to Horace, was thrice bound in brass, but who probably was timid and cautious. Our spider, however, has no fears, nor need it to have any, since no sort of capsizal can affect a structure which answers its purpose as well one side up as another; whilst even if it were to sink—though that hardly lies in its nature—there is always the water to run on. The raft, in fact, is only like the nest or web ashore—a place to have a comfortable meal in. The prey—some aquatic insect—is caught generally on the surface of the stream, and the spider, after each successful raid, skims back with her booty to the little self-guiding boat which it has temporarily left. There, when no longer hungry, she sits and scuds about, careless and pleasure-loving, like another little Phædria in her “flitt barck” over the waters of the Idle Lake.[142]

“Thus,” says Büchner, “everywhere in nature are battle, craft, and ingenuity, all following the merciless law of egoism, in order to maintain their own lives and to destroy those of others.” In man, indeed, there is some counterpoise to all this in the mind andfaçon de parler; but the lower animals do not think so much, and, having no proper language, cannot even talk altruistically.

Lastly, we have the water-spider, whose little spun nest, against the submerged stem of some aquatic plant, is open at the bottom like a diving-bell, and filled with air which its owner carries down from the surface in successive bubbles, each one looking “like a globe of quicksilver.” To collect them she swims on her back, and, in some manner, entangles them amongst the numerous hairs with which her abdomen is covered, where they cling safely all through the journey,

“Proud of that delicate lodgment.”

There may be other bubbles as pretty, perhaps, but few, by bursting, do such good to those who have cherished them. In winter, it would seem, the spider closes the entrance to the diving-bell, and sleeps, dry and soft, in a well-aired bed, in spite of the damp situation.

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