I need my head examined. The first few arachnid invaders were greeted with less alarm than interest. Black Widow spiders weren’t supposed to live in Vancouver – at least that’s what I believed. A little research tore that notion to shreds – the first couple I caught and released, the next few – admittedly stomped in defensive annoyance. Convincing myself these were isolated incidences contained within the walls of our basement laundry room – it went on the “to do” list with best intentions.
A few months later “kitchen widow” showed herself. This wasn’t good. I meant to address my escalating spider problem, several attempts to catch kitchen widow failed. After a while I got used to her – she was predictable, never strayed from her window plot – at least I knew where she was.
Tonight something fell behind the dresser in my bedroom. Flat on the floor, flashlight in hand – a spot light shone on “bedroom widow”. Unlike the prior spinsters, I swear she looked at me and said “I dare you”. Twice as big, her massive, bulbous belly taunting my next move with unflinching bravado.
I don’t think so bedroom widow. Cunning stealth consumed my every breath as I tippy toed for the vacuum cleaner. Slow motion determination guided my belly to the floor – flashlight in one hand, vacuum hose in the other. SUCK YOU BEDROOM WIDOW.
Mature female western black widow spider, Latrodectus hesperus.
Photo by Rick S. Vetter.