You’ve swallowed a spider and nothing happened, so relax about these beautiful, plentiful, essential creatures that are beyond fascinating. Most, by far, are harmless to humans. Like us, they have no wings, and like us, some can fly. Spiders are usually quite home-bound; they live in a small area most of their lives. But hey! they can launch themselves up – ‘ballooning’ they call it, or ‘kiting’ – and fly next door, or next town, or next country – up to 500kms and more, and up to 5km above the ground. ‘Strue! And they make their own parachute. We have to buy or rent our paraglider wing.
Spiders from my garden in this lockdown year. Oh, except the tiny jumping spider on my Hi-Tec shoe – that was in Sand Forest Lodge in Zululand.
If you see swifts and swallows darting about feeding mid-air, part of their diet might be spiderlings.
Actual pic of a Rockspider’s first flight outside Bulwer, KZN:
That spider you swallowed? You’ve probably swallowed a spiderling without even noticing it. Here’s a fully-grown one similar to my ‘tiny jumping’ shown above which I photographed in my meadow.
I was trying to attract birds, but down came a spider. I think he’s a bark spider, but he could be a different kind of orb web spider. Bark spiders also spin big orb webs and my birdfeeder perch makes a great platform for an aspiring award-winning web spinner.
At first I thought it was an empty carapace from something that had hatched and flown, like a dragonfly. But then he moved . .
A beautiful new button spider was found in Tembe Elephant Park and Phinda private reserve recently. The 32nd known button, or widow spider in the Latrodectus genus, of which eight are found in Africa; and – the first new one in 28 years.
And she’s a beauty:
A single female was first found in 2014 in Tembe Elephant Park in Zululand. It was observed until its natural death two years later, when it was collected and sent to a laboratory. Way to go! More and more we should be observing before collecting! In 2017 a number of live specimens were collected from the Phinda reserve. They and their offspring were studied until 2019 when it was confirmed to be a new species.
The species is only known to occur in the critically endangered lowland sand forest biome of northern KwaZulu-Natal. These forests are threatened by illegal clearing for farming as well as wood collection. The females build nests in trees and stumps more than 50 centimetres above ground, which is higher than most other members of the genus.
I haven’t been able to find out where the specific name umbukwane comes from. Will keep looking. isiZulu.net doesn’t have it as a word. Maybe the name of the person who first pointed it out?? Maybe a local place name?? No – seems it means ‘spectacular!’ I like that!
Gotta marvel at evolution! Always something new. Here’s a mantidfly. It’s not a mantid, but it has evolved to look like one. It’s related to the lacewings – the flying adult you see in Zululand that has the antlion as its larva stage. Here’s what they can look like:
And here’s their story:
“Mantidflies belong to the insect order Neuroptera and are related to more familiar insects like lacewings and antlions. Adult mantidflies clearly show convergent evolution with praying mantids, which are members of a completely different insect order. Both kinds of insects are visual predators that use their raptorial forelimbs to grab up insect prey. Mantid fly biology is otherwise very different from praying mantids. These insects have a larval stage, and during this stage they are parasitoids on other insects or spiders. ‘Parasitoid’ is the technically accurate term since they kill their hosts rather than merely encumber them. The larva of this species of mantidfly enters the egg sac of a jumping spider and eats the eggs, all while the female spider is guarding them!”
Here’s a jumping spider thinking she has everything under control:
Photographed and written about by Mark Sturtevant on Matt Young’s Panda’s Thumb blog.
My garden is a wonderful tangle of KwaZulu indigenous growth gone wild. Interfered with only by my best man Tobias Gumede’s earnestly-felt desire to do something. Recently he trimmed the undergrowth near the birdbath and the spot where beautiful turquoise Araneus apricus spins her web each night and takes it down every morning.
I had to sit him down and remind him: Tobias, remember when we listened to the yellow-bellied greenbul’s complaints and you told me how it was saying “Don’t shoot the birds, it’s Spring and they’re nesting”, and how you would teach the kids in Jozini not to shoot birds in that season – and how they did anyway!?
Well, its Summer, and remember: We don’t trim or cut anything till the season fades and we’re sure no birds or other creatures are nesting. And even then we do it with great circumspection? Oh Yes, He Does Remember and Sorry, He Forgot.
But he forgot again and as I was leaving he asked Can You Buy Me A Rake? Um, what for, Tobias? Oh, Yes, He Forgot, We Don’t Rake. Right.
Well, I mention this because I have recently found out that unbeknown to me, I garden according to the ancient principle of wu wei. I mean, I always suspected my method was brilliant, but wu wei! That is brill. Its the Zen (or Tao? – or something . . ) art of “masterful inactivity”.
I love it: “The Art Of Masterful Inactivity”! Wu wei! I can do this!
I’m reading a book by Esther Woolfson who lives in Aberdeen in Scotland called Field Notes from a Hidden City. The review of her book made me want to write about all the wonderful hidden creatures in my garden and generally in Westville, so I bought it with the express intention of plagiarising it. I’ve got to the part where she writes about wu wei and I’m right behind her.
I read a lot about books and then occasionally I buy one and actually read the whole thing. Often the book review is better than the book. I bought Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck by Eric G Wilson. Well, it was a very good review.
Back to plagiarism: I will write to Esther and tell her what I’m doing if I get the book done. My wu wei credentials are not confined to gardening, however, so she may be safe.
Here’s the manicured bit for soccer, rugby and biking, with refuges for creatures in front and behind. When the kids stop swimming the pool will be made more frog-friendly. Made? Well, Allowed To Go frog-friendly . . . .
So how did I know the beautiful little turquoise orb spider I found in my garden was Araneus apricus? I went to my saucers. This one is seldom in her cups: My favourite entomologist Tanza said:
Hi Pete – I think she is Araneus apricus, a little orb spider. Most are nocturnal, spinning their webs in the early evening and then removing them in the morning. Maybe she got out of bed late . . . ; It is probably a “she” as the males are often (but not always) smaller.- Tanz
I first met Tanza when she was working with social spiders on the Hella Hella bridge over the Umkomaas river. Hundreds of them obligingly spun webs between the aluminium railings, allowing Tanza to mark and measure at leisure. Usually they’d be in tangled bushes!