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A noiselessly impatient spider
Today, as I was walking into town, I noticed what appeared to be a small spider eating a tiny leaf that was caught in its web in the hedgerow. "No," I thought, "even a spider can't be that stupid," so I leaned in closer to look.
What the spider was actually doing was attempting to cut the leaf free of its web while repairing it at the same time. It was caught about midway down, in the cross-threads between two of the lower spokes of the orb. The spider sliced out the top part of the leaf and it fell downward, and the spider laid a few hasty threads behind it as it followed the leaf down. I was impressed. But before the spider could free the leaf entirely from the web, it fell a little further down and got caught on some more of the sticky fibres. The spider had it on a little reel and chased along after it, in an agonizingly slow dance, down and down, trying to spin out a patch behind it but finding it didn't have quite enough legs to manage it.
After a few minutes of this, the spider dropped the leaf (still clinging to the web, now a bit lower and with a long blank space above it) and ran to the centre of the web, where it twanged violently on the spokes. I don't know whether it was trying to vibrate the leaf away or merely checking for newly-caught insects, or something else entirely; mostly it just seemed frustrated with the failure of its efforts. Then it returned to the leaf. It carried on its dance, cutting away the leaf and carefully dropping it down, only to lose control and have it fall into a lower section of the web. This went on for a few more minutes, with the spider seeming more and more agitated -- and leaving, periodically, to go twang its spokes from the centre -- until it eventually gave it up, and went to sulk behind the leaves around one of its anchor threads. The leaf was still in the web, and in trying to remove it the spider had made a hole roughly eight times the size of the leaf itself. (If at first you don't succeed...)
As I turned to walk away, I noticed another spider in a similar predicament. This was a much bigger spider, a different species, with a much bigger leaf in its much bigger web, though similarly placed. I watched it scuttle down to the leaf and cut it away, quickly and skillfully. It had a minor moment of panic when the leaf fell into one of the anchor strands below the web (it was a holly leaf and so quite heavy) but it managed to catch it and remove it from the anchor strands without damaging them, and so returned contentedly to the centre. The leaf had left a small hole, but for now the spider left it as it was.
What the spider was actually doing was attempting to cut the leaf free of its web while repairing it at the same time. It was caught about midway down, in the cross-threads between two of the lower spokes of the orb. The spider sliced out the top part of the leaf and it fell downward, and the spider laid a few hasty threads behind it as it followed the leaf down. I was impressed. But before the spider could free the leaf entirely from the web, it fell a little further down and got caught on some more of the sticky fibres. The spider had it on a little reel and chased along after it, in an agonizingly slow dance, down and down, trying to spin out a patch behind it but finding it didn't have quite enough legs to manage it.
After a few minutes of this, the spider dropped the leaf (still clinging to the web, now a bit lower and with a long blank space above it) and ran to the centre of the web, where it twanged violently on the spokes. I don't know whether it was trying to vibrate the leaf away or merely checking for newly-caught insects, or something else entirely; mostly it just seemed frustrated with the failure of its efforts. Then it returned to the leaf. It carried on its dance, cutting away the leaf and carefully dropping it down, only to lose control and have it fall into a lower section of the web. This went on for a few more minutes, with the spider seeming more and more agitated -- and leaving, periodically, to go twang its spokes from the centre -- until it eventually gave it up, and went to sulk behind the leaves around one of its anchor threads. The leaf was still in the web, and in trying to remove it the spider had made a hole roughly eight times the size of the leaf itself. (If at first you don't succeed...)
As I turned to walk away, I noticed another spider in a similar predicament. This was a much bigger spider, a different species, with a much bigger leaf in its much bigger web, though similarly placed. I watched it scuttle down to the leaf and cut it away, quickly and skillfully. It had a minor moment of panic when the leaf fell into one of the anchor strands below the web (it was a holly leaf and so quite heavy) but it managed to catch it and remove it from the anchor strands without damaging them, and so returned contentedly to the centre. The leaf had left a small hole, but for now the spider left it as it was.