Nature's Place

Huntsman, mother of them all. Whiling away the winter under a sheet of plastic by the house, damp enough to attract other forms, perhaps to eat, next to some straw bales.

Come spring there will be nests found in such places, when hundreds of little ones will be cared for by mum. You wouldn’t expect some mothers to care so well as she does.

Golden Orb weaver in Eprapah, with a honey bee for dinner. They are everywhere to be found, waiting in their webs, being simple spider life. The EU honey bees never stop here in Brisbane.

To my eye it looked at first like an ant, the little golden spot on the rear perhaps, and appeared more elongated than it does here – like an ant. Ran into view with dinner held firm, husk soon discarded.

A jumping spider, male maybe, spent some time dodging the tiny ants running up and down the tree trunk, where there are also golden bum ants patrolling. Tree trunks can be busy places.

Another Jumper, female I think, in another place at Eprapah. Lots of these guys about, big eyes, always inquisitive, needing to visually know their surroundings.

They won’t sit still for long, so I take what is offered. And observe the uncomplicated life at work and play. I believe they do both in their way.

A more business-like fellow, or lady. As soon as I touched my stick to the tree trunk she was out of her tunnel web and ready to strike. See how she holds the threads taut, ready for action.  Couldn’t get a better shot without risk, of flight or bite.

I didn’t dare offer my finger, just to see … you know. Smaller spiders have left uncomfortable wounds enough, and this one had a certain aura – ‘Feeling Lucky Punk?’

A playful jumper, male again, I think. This one more concerned with his footing than the others. See the strands of silk he maintains a touch of, and anchored from his spinnerets.

Little blue eyes, have seen them signal another with those white socked front feet, waving in the air like flags. Over here, let’s be mates a while … Pretty little thing.

This way and that he turned, I couldn’t keep up. There will be more I think … nature doesn’t give up, though it can be left …