P.S.
Surfing spider
Something caught my eye as I drove down the steep hill. A
large, very hairy, and very, very leggy huntsman spider
leered at me from the other side of the windscreen. Ugh!
He'd fall off or scuttle away at the sharp corner, or on
the next bend. Or so I thought. He didn't.
This was a long trip on a windy road. With each tight
turn, to the right or to the left, the spider stood firm,
sticky feet planted on the centre of the bonnet, long hairy
legs flexing and bending in response to the car moving
beneath him. With the skill and elegance of an accomplished
surfer, he 'rode the wave', unshaken by the forces of wind
and gravity, heedless of the discomfort of the driver of
this large metal machine. He was risking serious damage, and
he appeared to know that.
It's never wise to overdo anthropomorphism, but I thought
he was actually enjoying all this. Any sensible creature
would scurry back to safety, under the headlights or behind
the wipers. (On my car, that is where they live.) But not
this creature. He looked completely fearless, at one with
the wave and the energy, startlingly confident.
As he stared fixedly at me, I had the oddest feeling that
he trusted the power behind the wheel. It was as if he knew
I would not harm him. But he was also taking a BIG risk.
Common sense prevailed and I stopped at the edge of the
road - such distraction is not wise, especially on a long
trip. I walked (cautiously) to the front of the car, folded
paper gripped in my hand. Firmly, but gently I slid the
paper underneath the spider and flicked him onto the leaf
litter beneath a bush.
He landed deftly, and turned to face me. Then, standing
tall, he waved his front legs as if in a kind of greeting,
before loping nimbly across the leaves.
Did I imagine it: 'Hey dude, thanks for the ride. That
was awesome!'
Trust, risk, live. Way to go!
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