Garden Spider

Both hands rubbed against my eyes as I meandered towards the backdoor to let my golden retriever outside, the same as any morning. I cranked the knob, but jumped back at the sight just sitting there, menacingly. A yellow garden spider hung upside-down on his web through the glass pane. The silk was woven the entire five-foot width of the door, essentially barricading Wrigley and I from the backyard. The nocturnal arachnid crept on all eight legs when the door moved but now lay motionless at the center of the circular web. Underneath his body a thicker, zig-zag of silk a couple inches long was sewn. Its function was not clear (maybe web stability), although it became the base while the spider waited for his prey.

Two enlarged palps protruded on both sides of his gray colored head, distinguishing his sex. He, Bruno we named him, was large, yes, but quite beautiful. His first leg tip to last leg tip measured the size of my own palm. But he was harmless; the Araneidae family of spiders are neither aggressive nor venomous to humans meaning the yellow-black patterned abdomen serves as a pseudo intimidation method for predators. And it worked for me. A black streak coated central portion of the body beginning at the head and moving to the spinneret only interrupted by a square of four white circles at the halfway point. Lateral to this segment, brighter yellow blobs arranged themselves lining down the back, each accompanied by stripes that ran their way to its underbelly. Nothing felt arcane about Bruno’s legs. The forth were the two longest making is obvious that the third were the shortest.

Bruno, by just being, became a specimen for observation and education in my own home. I thought our connection was real, but by the next day he moved spots never to be seen again. I just hope Bruno is doing okay.