A clever spider

The clever spider and its strategic web

As I was coming in the back door from the garden, I noticed this fine creature on the door frame.

It had woven a web across the gap which forms on the hinge side when the door is open.

I shut the door without thinking, then suddenly thought: ‘Oh no, I wonder if I’ve squashed it?’ But I hadn’t. When I opened the door again, there it was.

It must have studied the profile of the door and its frame, and worked out a place where it can sit safely.

Its web, I noticed, didn’t tear or move out of position: it seems to have been woven with multiple strands going in the same direction so as to make it effectively elastic. What’s more, it’s perfectly positioned to catch the insects drifting in and out of the house.

The spider is certainly doing well from this strategy, if its size is anything to go by.

Western Conifer Seed Bug

I hate admitting defeat, but I was prepared to. I just couldn’t identify these insects.

The mystery insect

I felt sure they must be common because they’re everywhere at the moment, crawling on the windowsills and the stairs, getting caught in cobwebs.

I don’t mean there are huge numbers; it’s more that every insect around seems to be one of them.

I didn’t have much to go on, but I had a look on the internet at a few types of insect that I thought were similar:

• soldier beetles
• tiger beetles
• oil beetles
• blister beetles

and a few more with relevant plant connections:

• oak beetles
• vine weevils

and there was no match anywhere.

Then I thought I’d pick one up and put it on my desk to give me inspiration. Even gently wrapped in a tissue, it immediately gave off a pungent, insecty smell, which gave me an idea.

Maybe it was a sort of stink bug? Stink bugs are also called shield bugs because they’re the shape of a shield, which is what had put me off the scent (excuse the pun).

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the notion of a stink finally led me to the Western Conifer Seed Bug.

Strange, because there are only a few conifers around. It seems they’ve come across from America and here, like there, are going into houses looking for somewhere to overwinter.

They’re quite harmless; just stinky if frightened.

Playing God in the swimming pool

When insects or other creatures land in the pool where I’m swimming, I have, in theory, the power of life or death over them.

I can leave them to struggle; I can sweep them up in the net in a casual way; I can sweep them up in the net and make sure they don’t get re-dunked; or I can rescue them individually either on my hand, or a leaf, or an old chlorine tester strip.

Some creatures are first-class citizens and receive instant attention. Among these are tiny baby lizards, praying mantids, butterflies and (normally) bees. Upper-second-class citizens include the larger ladybirds and the very common burnet moths. Lower second-class: smaller ladybirds, fire beetles, oil beetles, paper wasps. Third class: stink beetles, etc etc.

Certain creatures are left very decidedly to drown. In this group are horse flies, and white-spotted rose beetles against which I have a fervent and enduring vendetta as they ruin my beautiful roses.

The wild card within these ordered strata is that some insects can spoil the chances of their own kind for ever or at least for a few days. Take what happened yesterday, for example.

Bumblebee sting - scarcely visible after a few minutes

I rescued a very attractive rufus bumblebee on my hand and, despite being repeatedly offered the rim of the pool to walk onto, it preferred to keep going up my arm. I was afraid that once it reached my shoulder it would disappear from view and either get into my hair or drop inside my bathing costume.

So I took the pool thermometer and blocked its way. Unfortunately the stem of the thermometer slipped, frightened the bee, and it stung me. I flicked it away but was left harbouring vengefulness against all others of its kind.

‘What ingratitude,’ was in my mind.

I would have been quite capable of leaving rufus bumblebees to drown after that; just that I haven’t seen any.

But to end on a more beautiful note. Once, swimming at night, I saw a firefly in the water. I took it in my hand where its light continued to pulse steadily until I set it down, well away from the pool.

Performing praying mantis

A still from the performance

We were sitting outside at dinner when a praying mantis landed on the table and started walking across it. Two of us had cameras nearby, so we tried to get shots of the insect before it disappeared.

The praying mantis had other ideas. It rapidly scaled the garlic mayonnaise bottle and stood on the lid, with its triangular head moving from side to side and its front legs poised to snare any passing prey.

It was as if it was deliberately posing for us.

As soon as it felt the photo opportunity had gone on long enough, it flew away.

Scorpions

A scorpion

A perfect little black form, every detail sharp. You can see the size of it from the tile crack next to it.

We found 2 of them last night on the sitting room floor, first one and then the other. They were perfectly still, and only curled up their tails in defensive posture when I pushed them gently into the dustpan with the brush.

They eat insects and spiders and their sting doesn’t amount to much, so we don’t mind them. But we get a bit uptight if we see one on the ceiling because it could drop down someone’s neck. Although, mind you, I can’t imagine them losing their grip.

Now did one of these critters return from the garden or was it a totally different individual? Following on from this, I picked up what I thought was a squashed grape from beside my shoes. I was holding it quite hard between finger and thumb when, to my surprise, I felt it uncurl.

I quickly dropped it into the palm of my other hand and there it was – a fine specimen of a scorpion. It didn’t sting me or even raise its tail. But I got it out of the house a bit smartish and kept the dogs away from it,  just in case.