I just spotted Black Widow spiders number six and seven in my laundry room. Numbers one through five appeared last summer. I managed to dispense with most of them, unfortunately six and seven eluded capture. This is not good. My laundry room is in the basement, I’m crossing my fingers that the black widows like my basement, and don’t get any ideas about coming upstairs.
Growing up in rural B.C. we were taught to be on the lookout for two things – rattlesnakes and black widow spiders. Not once did I encounter either; now here I am in the middle of the city with black widows everywhere. I can’t say that it’s so surprising – after all, I never saw a coyote, skunk, or raccoon either, and all of them are regular occurrences in my city yard.
This leads me to ponder all sorts of questions on evolution and adaptation of species. I don’t have any answers as to why my little house in the middle of a city is infested with spiders. Not just any spider, but black widows with the potential to deliver a very bad day. Spiders that are supposed to reside in a far different climate than rainy Vancouver. I guess my dry basement offers a warm little haven – small comfort in the face of a possible flesh eating bite.
It could be worse; the bite of a black widow won’t kill you, only melt your flesh. If my problem was the Brown Recluse spider, I would be packing my bags now. All the same, I’d like them to move out – seven black widows in less than a year doesn’t make me happy.