Spider Babies

I’m not very good at killing things. Catch and release has been the preferred pest control method in our home. Everything from wasps to mice, and birds to salamanders--if it finds it’s way into our yard or house, we catch it and set it free.

God’s genius in stirring life and the instinct to survive in His creatures has always amazed me. So, I’m not very good at killing things. Let them live, I say! Let’s see what happens if we just let them live!

Which is what brings me to the page, today, because sometimes things need to die. Some things cannot be left to survive and thrive. They need to be removed or they will take on and take over places that do not belong to them.

Two summers ago my sons and I discovered a mama crab spider roosting (Do spiders roost? I think it’s appropriate to say they do—especially if their as big as this one was!) underneath our back porch light. She had a dime-sized beige abdomen and surprisingly sturdy legs. We were fascinated by her and let her be, feeling alternately astonished and terrified by her doings (She was large enough to trip the motion sensor on the porch light—an amusing conversation starter for our arachnophobic friends!).

That summer we found two or three more such critters between the rungs of the deck railing. We took pictures and wrote reports and were generally intrigued by their ugliness and size.
Last summer I started watching for their return early in the spring. I was not disappointed. Securely nestled between two deck rungs was what appeared to be a ball of spider eggs. I eagerly called for the boys to "come see!" Upon closer investigation we realized that the ball wasn’t made up of eggs at all, but of hundreds (two hundred, maybe?) of dot-sized baby spiders. A gentle puff of breath on the nest sent them scurrying frantically up and down the strands of their intricately woven haven.

Amazing, to be sure, but what had been fascinating the year before became mildly creepy, and I promptly called a bug guy to determine whether or not our safety was at risk. Two or three large-bellied, yellow, motion sensor-tripping stalkers is one thing, but a deck held hostage by crawlies was not a happy summer thought. Bug Guy excitedly suggested that we let the little fellows live and that we simply "move them" to another location in the yard.

As I’m not very good at killing things, this seemed like a viable and eco-friendly option.
But by the time I got back to their spot, they were gone. Up and moved. Out of there. I was too late to relocate them! They’d done that all on their own…all over the deck, under the deck, in the surrounding garden patches, and in various nooks and crannies in the house siding.

We were over-run. Thankfully, not all two hundred babies grew to adulthood (presumably they were lunched on by natural predators, or possibly by each other), but that summer found our deck hostage to dozens of round bellied, hissing (Okay, okay. They didn’t actually hiss. But they were a lot less intriguing and a lot more freaky than they had been the year before!), grab-you-as-you-go-by adult crab spiders.

Still, "Let them live," I said. They’re not doing any harm—unless, of course, you’re offended by the site of bug insides splattered all over the side of the house and the emptied casings of bug bodies strewn about the ground beneath their webs.

Which brings us to this summer. Again, I started an early watch for spider babes, determined to catch them and move them before they had a chance to divide and conquer (realizing that the number of last years’ adults did not bode well for the quantity of babies we were likely to find now). Sure enough! I found the baby heap, promptly scooped them up, carted them to the back of the garden and resettled them in their new digs.

And then I found another ball of babies. And another. And another. Hundreds and hundreds of teeny, soon to be freakishly large, monster babies.

The relocated ones promptly spread out, making their lodgings in the boys’ fort, amongst plants, and along yards and yards of fence. They were countless and growing and multiplying faster than ever I could hope to catch and release anything!

So this summer I’m learning to kill. Just in this isolated case, I assure you, but let’s face it! Enough is enough. "Death To Spider" Spray firmly in hand I became the stalker. I hunted down babies and mamas alike and sent them speedily to that happy web in the sky. Or I’m attempting to. They seem to be a rather hearty lot of survivors (Good for them, I say!) and the task looks endless.

Is there a point to all of this carnage? Well, yes. Sometimes things need to die. What looks harmless, fascinating, even alluring, in one season of your life can become something overwhelming and consuming in another.

We are gradually taken over by thoughts that run un-checked, self-pity that’s left to fester, bitterness that’s left to settle into the crooks and sheltered places in our hearts. There are times when catch and release simply will not do. Some thoughts need to die. Some fears need to be crushed. Unforgiveness needs to be be snuffed. Destroyed.

Moving these things to the back of our minds will not rid our souls of them. We need to see them permanently off.

I’m hoping next summer will see our crab spider population at a more manageable level, but if they insist on claiming the yard again, I’ll be ready for them, "Spider Begone" at the ready, at the beginning of the season this time!

For God did not call us to be impure, but to live a holy life…
May God Himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The One who calls you is faithful and He will do it.
1 Thessalonians