Leaning into the car I saw it. Perched at the intersection of windshield and dashboard. The hugest spider I’ve ever seen within three feet of my bed.
I did not stop to take a picture this time. (See “Do NOT Crawl Through That Open Window!.”) A while earlier, I had placed a folded towel just next to the frozen wolf spider’s position. It was the best “squisher” in sight.
I slowly eased into the driver’s seat, positioning my hands, rolling the end of the towel, calculating how much terry cloth it would take to kill without providing too much cushioning. “I only have one chance,” I thought.
I slowly pulled back the towel.
The unmolested spider was now positioned farther to the left. It moved a couple inches up the windshield.
I wanted footing. I crept sideways out of the car. I steeled myself.
Wham! I slammed the towel onto the spider and quickly pulled it away.
AAHGH! The spider is not there. AAAGGCK! Something soft is on my right hand! I scream and shake and shake and shiver and wave my hand, then I jiggle all of me, oh god it could have fallen from my waving hand to my body, I jump but fortunately I scream no more — I really don’t want anyone to hear me.
Shit. I’m wearing my reading glasses so I can’t really see the ground, but I dutifully look ’round and ’round for anything scurrying.http://www.homelessinmycar.com/?p=1220&preview=true
I let out my breath. And sigh.
Could it be in the car? Possibly. I search the driver’s seat, floor and the area next to it. Nothing visible.
No, I think. It was on my right hand. I immediately shook my hand. It would have fallen on the ground. Not into the car.
9 a.m. the next morning:
I’m organizing the site when the rising sun hits my eyes. I reach into the car to retrieve my sunglasses from the glasses holder between the two front seats. As I straighten up, something falls to the ground. Something skitters a couple inches down a blade of grass and stops.
I lean over.
The spider spent the night in the well of the glasses holder. Actually, that is a leap of logic. (“Climbing the Ladder of Inference” we called it in consultants training.) In any case, that’s where it was when I found it.
It has the same back markings as the larger spider I photographed on my car a few days ago.
I thank the spider for its life and step on it.
A single silk spider strand stretches across a lens of my sunglasses.