Load-bearing filaments
I saw a thing today. I was out in the neighborhood, walking to and fro in the world and up and down in it; it’s very foggy here so there is heavy condensation on the bushes and trees and everything else. What happens when there’s condensation like that? You see how many spider webs there are everywhere. I stopped to look at one, because a spider web beaded in condensation is a damn pretty thing, and I looked so closely that I noticed a thing new to me. Webs have long radial lines, like spokes, and short lines between them. At the sides of the web, but not top and bottom, the short lines make a Y – they have 2 tiny lines to meet the radial line instead of just one – but only at the upper end.
I walked on and looked at another web and saw the same thing, then a bigger one and that had three lines on many of the short lines, a fork instead of a Y.
I searched Google images and found a perfect illustration:
See? Both Ys and forks on that one. Isn’t that interesting? Charlotte would be proud.
All the webs I looked closely at had a spider sitting placidly at the center, waiting for lunch.
I have seen some beautiful spider webs in my time. I use my pictures in class, and my students shriek and demand trigger warnings.
To clarify that above – not all my students. It’s always females, and usually the ones who are the most decked out in culturally feminine frippery. I sometimes wonder how much is true arachnophobia, and how much is an act because they have been cultured to think that’s how women react to spiders.
I love spiders. They are beautiful things. (And I respect them – and stay away from those that are poisonous).
Funny, spiders freak me out and fascinate me in equal measure. Intellectually I know all the good stuff about them and understand they will by and large never cause me harm. A particularly big or creepy looking spider when I’m not expecting it will cause momentary paralysis, ringing ears and tunnel vision. The spider webs on the other hand, are just hinge of beauty that carry no emotional baggage at all. Which makes me wonder if people who shriek at the sight of them are simply play acting for effect.
iknklast, a certain biology prof is currently breeding spider colonies (by always putting a male and female together, because he actually does understand how these things work) and blogging about it. He always gives a trigger warning if there’s pictures or video of his spiders and always puts the pics ‘below the fold’. Sensitive bunch over there, what!
Anyway, enough of that.
The web’s Y and fork structure is something I’ve also never noticed before, despite regular pre-dawn walks with the dog when the frost or morning dew makes the webs impossible not to see. I wonder if the Y and fork detail – being on just one edge of the cross-strands – might be a form of ‘tuning’ or location device that amplifies vibrations in one direction and reduces them in others, allowing the spider to quickly determine the exact position of its prey on the web. This would be more advantageous at night, and maybe reducing the time it takes to find and kill the prey means that the prey won’t struggle for long enough to seriously damage the web.
I know who’s going to be photographing webs for a while.
Venomous*
Jumping spiders are the cutest, and huntsmen are the most impressive. Those guys get rehomed outside. Redbacks on the other hand are a touch too much to tolerate; they get sprayed.
I once watched a garden spider build a web, as part of a life-long attempt to get over spiders. When I arrived, the basic framework was already there, and I watched the spider put in the the remaining radial strands. I learnt that none of these parts of the web were sticky. That’s how spiders don’t stick to their own webs, I realised – not all of it is sticky! Then I realised that should have been obvious all along, but I just hadn’t thought about it enough (now I know, and sometimes, if I need to disturb a web because it’s across the path, or anchored to something I need to move, I unhook it, and reattach it to something else. I have known spiders to not be disturbed by a slight directional change, as long as the tension of the web is still right). I watched the spider spiral from the centre to the frame, filling the spaces between the spokes with connecting lines, and then I watched it spiral back to the centre, removing the lines it had just put in and replacing them with new ones. Little perfectionists, spiders. It was a fascinating and surprisingly relaxing 40 minutes or so. Did it help me get over my fear of spiders? Not really. Maybe. It’s a wildly inconsistent fear, with variables such as size, speed, shape all factoring in and resulting in a bizarre ability to handle tarantulas, bolting from those stupid wispy house spiders with the long legs, and finding harvestmen adorable. But at least I am able to appreciate the beauty of a good web.
I startle at for instance a very large spider on the stairs…and I avoid direct contact. As near as I can tell it’s just not wanting them to scamper onto me. It’s the same when a bird flies in here, as happened twice over the past summer. I’m not afraid of it but I’m VERY averse to making contact with it. This is even after working at a zoo for several years a long time ago. It seems to be a mix of gut-level aversion and fear of damaging them. (Both birds flew back out unharmed.)
Lynne Kelly, the Australian skeptic, was such an extreme arachnaphobe she experienced constant fear, including recurrent nightmares–she couldn’t escape the little buggers even in her sleep!
She cured herself by becoming a self-taught expert in all things Spider. She even wrote a book on the subject.
I linked to this post on Facebook and tagged Lynne. Her response:
Oh, cool! I saw that post and meant to check back but forgot.
A little story I’m fond of repeating about spiders; I once had an irrational fear of the little beasts, until I moved to Australia*. Of course, when I came home, I suffered irrational arachnophobia again.
*Where it became a perfectly rational arachnophobia
@iknklast, my linguistic curiosity causes me to wonder if any of your students call a spider a “cob” (i.e. not only when used as part of “cobweb”), since I had heard that usage was not uncommon in parts of the midwest. (My source was from a few years ago, and based in Iowa.)