Spiders - As Strong as Silk

Spiders always fascinated me when I was a kid. They were part of our family, part of the insect ecosystem that lived among the many crevices and dusty, cobwebbed junk stored in rarely accessed lofts in our ancestral home in Mylapore. To top it all, our cluttered backyard, filled with thorny December Poo bushes (Barleria cristata), unkempt banana trees, and dry leaf droppings from the huge hundred-year-old mango tree, had its own share of sprightly outdoor spiders. They were just about the size of a quarter, often multi-colored and had strong bodies unlike their soft indoor cousins. These hardy friends from the insect kingdom weaved beautiful webs of spider silk that occupied open spaces between the overgrown shrubs. Their webs were made of such strong silk strings that it could even hold small stones weighing many times the weight of spider. I had a perverse curiosity in messing around with their capabilities. I would drop stones of increasing size to figure out the right sized stone that would break the strings. I would then watch in awe as he locates the break and weaves the web back to perfection.

While the spider patiently sits in the middle, like a yogi in meditation, I too would wait patiently watching the web with the spider flap back and forth in the gentle afternoon hot summer breeze. Time would stop and my mind would pick up the rattle of leaves, an occasional hallowing song of a lonely Minah or clumsy crowing from the many crows that lived on our mango tree. The moment an insect, a housefly, a baby dragonfly or a tree ant, falls on the web, in a split second, like a speeding bullet, he would rush exactly to the spot and pounce on the hapless insect. He would use all his eight legs to poke and spew silk over the poor wriggling insect. Within minutes, the insect would be covered with silk and appear as if it is entombed inside a cocoon. Slowly, using his antlers, the spider would take its own time in sucking the nutrients out leaving an empty shell.

I liked teasing the spider and loved playing pranks on him. When he had nothing to eat and waited for the next prey, I would take a small one-centimeter piece of stick, and drop it on the web. As soon as the stick lands, he would pounce on it with joy thinking that it could be a juicy insect. He would inspect the prey for about ten to twenty seconds, and would realize that it is not a meal. An amazing thing would happen next. The spider would gingerly pry the stick away from the strings so that it falls through the gap between stings with minimal damage to his web. He would immediately start working on mending any strands that got broken in this process and will not stop until his home is back in shape again. Then he would walk to center and lay in wait for his next casualty.