If there is one thing that strikes fear in my heart it’s the sight of a Black Widow Spider. You don’t see them too often, but when you do it’s a surprise that makes you jump back a few feet or all the way into the neighbor’s pool. You start to wonder where else in the house they might be hiding. It’s not like they jump out at you or anything. It’s just those kind of creepy legs and that super sticky web they weave. And, there’s the poisonous part.

I was moving a box in the house the other day doing my once-in-a-decade cleaning, reached down to pick it up from the bottom, and holy $@!! (Guacamole) there she was. She was in the midst of weaving her deadly web, then stopped and looked up at me. I covered my eyes thinking maybe, somehow, if our eyes met I would be dead. Where did I get that from, I wondered? Oh yeah, I was probably thinking of Medusa. Except she had a head of snakes instead of hair and if her eyes met yours she would turn you to stone. At that moment, though, I thought that would be better than a Black Widow Spider bite.

“I’m not really a Black Widow Spider,” she said. “I’m one of those ‘false’ widows.” I wasn’t totally convinced she was telling the truth. “I don’t think so”, I said. “I think you’re just having fun here. Let’s see if you have a red hourglass underneath.” “Oh, come on!” she said. “You’re being ridiculous.” I folded my arms across my chest and looked the other way. “Oh, all right,” she said relenting. She slowly turned over and there it was. The red hourglass. “I knew it!” I said jumping up and down. “Okay, you got me,” she said turning back over. “But, seriously,” she said. “Go ahead and touch the web. It’s a work of art.” I carefully touched the furthest part of the web away from her and quickly recoiled. “Ugh!” I said disgusted. “It’s just as sticky as I thought it would be.” “Well, of course it is,” she said. “How else would we catch our prey?” Just then a hapless seed moth flew into her web. She rushed forward in a split second, fanged it, and began wrapping it up in a tight little silky cocoon. She stopped for a moment and looked up at me. “What’s wrong? Your face is all scrunched up and goofy-looking.” “I don’t know,” I said. “The lightning speed at which you fanged that poor moth and then the whole “wrapping it up” thing just makes me uneasy. Why don’t you just eat it outright and put it out of its misery?” “Well,” she said. “I have to preserve it to give the kids something to eat.” “Oh, I see,” I said understanding things a bit better. “It’s for the kids. Okay, now that makes sense.” “Actually…” she said. “…you’re right, why wait?” She quickly moved to the paralyzed moth, dribbled digestive juices all over it until it liquefied and then proceeded to eat it by sucking up the slurry. I was starting to feel a bit light-headed.

“Let me give you a little more info about us widows,” she said delicately dabbing juice from around her mouth, “because I can see you’re just plain ignorant on the whole spider thing.” “Okay,” I said. “But, there is only one Black Widow Spider, correct?” “No,” she said flatly. “You mean there are more of you?” I said with a shudder. “Oh, dear Lord,” she said rolling her black eyes. I couldn’t tell exactly if she was rolling all her eyes or just some. There were eight of them altogether and it seemed like some rolled and some didn’t. Was she looking at me with a couple of them or to the right or left? Or, every direction all at once? It was confusing. “Yes, there are more of us,” she said. “I’m a member of the family Theridiidae, this genus contains 34 species. Which includes the Black Widow, Brown Widow and Red Widow. Species vary widely in size. In most cases, we females are dark-colored and can be readily identified by reddish markings on the central underside (ventral) abdomen, which are often hourglass-shaped. We widows have an unusually potent venom containing the neurotoxin latrotoxin, which causes the condition latrodectism, the illness caused by the bite. We female widow spiders have unusually large venom glands, and our bite can be particularly harmful to large vertebrates, like you. However, despite our notoriety, our bites rarely cause death or produce serious complications. Only the bites of the females are dangerous to humans.”

“So, why are you called widows?” I asked, curious. “And, wouldn’t the males be called widowers?” “Well,” she said clearing her throat. “Let’s just say the males don’t generally live long enough to become widowers. We widows occasionally eat the male after mating.” “That’s awful!” I said. “Why would you do that?” “Well,” she said. “It’s thought that this behavior helps promote the survival odds of our offspring.” “Oh, right,” I said. “Maybe save some leftovers for the kids.” “Yyyyes, the kids,” she said slowly. “And, don’t worry, the males often get away. In fact, male black widow spiders tend to select their mates by determining if the female has eaten already to avoid being eaten themselves. The little devils are able to tell if the female has fed by detecting chemicals in the web.”

“Speaking of male widows,” I said. “Where is he?” “Oh, he’s here,” she said. “Staying just out of leg’s reach. He may be sensing that I’ve eaten and feels more comfortable hanging around.” The little guy came closer slowly and carefully with a single purpose in mind. Just when he got close enough she quickly fanged him and began envenoming until he was liquefied. She then proceeded to eat. “Oh, my GOD!” I yelled, horrified. “First you tricked him into thinking you were full, then you ate him? What about the silk cocoon? What about food for the kids?” She stopped for a moment. “What kids?” she said. I looked around for little widow spiderlings. Not seeing any at all I became alarmed. What if I’ve been tricked, too? I could be fanged and wrapped up just like that moth. I wouldn’t mind a silk blanket, but then I would be paralyzed. I could provide her with enough food for months! I slowly backed up until I was up against a door. “If I were you,” she said. “I’d jump in the closet…” I reached for the door knob. “…where my cousin lives.”

Bless the arachnids ~ Joanie and Annie