September 6, 2011
Momma Daddy Long-legs has left her catch on a small, triangular web attached to an aloe spear and the smaller succulent's inverted leaves, and has built herself a multi-story house a couple of feet above, in the corner. She was waiting all day for the next victim to be caught in the slender strands of her web. A little higher up from where she's been waiting, closer to the ceiling, is a smaller daddy long-legs spider, perhaps a male, who as I understand it will die after they mate. I'll be watching for that event. Momma Daddy Long-legs, according to Buzzle.com, can live for three years. ("Not if I vacuum," says Marc.)
Momma Daddy Long-legs has left her catch on a small, triangular web attached to an aloe spear and the smaller succulent's inverted leaves, and has built herself a multi-story house a couple of feet above, in the corner. She was waiting all day for the next victim to be caught in the slender strands of her web. A little higher up from where she's been waiting, closer to the ceiling, is a smaller daddy long-legs spider, perhaps a male, who as I understand it will die after they mate. I'll be watching for that event. Momma Daddy Long-legs, according to Buzzle.com, can live for three years. ("Not if I vacuum," says Marc.) Tonight, Momma Daddy is nowhere to be seen. I suppose she could be off hunting. Pholcus phalangiodes, also known as house spiders, cellar spiders and vibrating spiders, are known to invade the nests of other spiders, eating their prey. They also vibrate in imitation of caught prey, luring the host out and killing it.
Maybe one of the cats got Momma Daddy. They do love catching spiders and other insects, since we restrict their night hunting activity to the house lest they become prey themselves. I just rescued a praying mantis, which I had earlier photographed posing on the small statue of Kwan Yin, Goddess of Compassion, which Marc bought in Chinatown. The mantis seemed annoyed at my poking the camera in its mandibular face, and scuttled away up the screen of the porch, eventually, no doubt, finding a way into the house.
The cats also love catching lizards, and Marc and I are regularly rescuing fence lizards, alligator lizards, and skinks. This afternoon I rescued the tiniest fence lizard, which was lying upside down next to Eartha and clung to my finger as soon as I touched it; tonight I rescued an alligator lizard Frida was playing with in the house. They always seem relaxed while I'm carrying them out to some rocks away from the house, looking around to see where I might be taking them, and I often have to nudge them out of my hand to get them to dart off into a crevice between the rocks.
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In 1986, I made a decision to stop eating anything I didn't think I could kill myself. That meant no more beef, lamb, or pork (unless I'm at someone's house and it's being served--then I'm willing to honor it by eating it--or sometimes at a buffet if I think it'll go to waste). I still believe I could kill a chicken or a fish, but I might well be wrong, knowing my compulsion to rescue and befriend and my aversion to inflicting pain or fear. I suppose, to be perfectly honest with myself, I should limit my carnivore's diet to caterpillars.
The cats also love catching lizards, and Marc and I are regularly rescuing fence lizards, alligator lizards, and skinks. This afternoon I rescued the tiniest fence lizard, which was lying upside down next to Eartha and clung to my finger as soon as I touched it; tonight I rescued an alligator lizard Frida was playing with in the house. They always seem relaxed while I'm carrying them out to some rocks away from the house, looking around to see where I might be taking them, and I often have to nudge them out of my hand to get them to dart off into a crevice between the rocks.
<><><><>
In 1986, I made a decision to stop eating anything I didn't think I could kill myself. That meant no more beef, lamb, or pork (unless I'm at someone's house and it's being served--then I'm willing to honor it by eating it--or sometimes at a buffet if I think it'll go to waste). I still believe I could kill a chicken or a fish, but I might well be wrong, knowing my compulsion to rescue and befriend and my aversion to inflicting pain or fear. I suppose, to be perfectly honest with myself, I should limit my carnivore's diet to caterpillars.
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