Day 307: I hadn't gone twenty feet past the trailhead before I said, "Okay, that does it. I need a spider stick." A sure sign that summer is drawing to a close, silken threads criss-cross the path every few feet these mornings, and even a short walk can leave a hiker feeling as if they are gowned in gossamer. Some webs are single strands. Others are nets to rival those of fishermen. However, these snares are often inhabited, their occupants deftly camouflaged against the light and shadow of the forest. My first encounter today was a full-on face splat, and out of the corner of my eye as the web pulled from its anchors, I saw the spider on a short tether. Morris-dancers might have thought I was practicing a hanky dance with invisible hankies for the contortions which next ensued. I passed through a hundred yards of forest before my next entanglement, having seen and removed several with the aforementioned spider stick which I was wielding like a fencer, but when I came into a brighter opening, the webs were spaced no more than three feet apart for a distance of 200 feet or so. It was there I spotted these two (fortunately in time to avoid them): a female and her mate, the latter attempting to engage his partner only to be repelled by her savage attacks. I laid down my short-handled spider stick and went for a longer twig because it was clear to me that this pair was plainly irksome and not in the mood for visitors. I can't recall a time when I've been more happy to have my feet on pavement than when I finally reached the end of the trail.
No comments:
Post a Comment