The Christmas Coup: A Tale of Two Spiders

You have heard the tale of Alfred the Spider, who lived on our front porch; and how Alfred had not just one but TWO egg sacs; and how my husband made friends with the spider and fed him and took care of him.

But the world has heard little, until now, of Jonesy, the tiny spider who built a very small web around the night light in the downstairs bathroom. Jonesy has been in residence for the past several months, and my husband and I have taken turns (the winter having been rather mild thus far) bringing him snacks - flies, mosquitoes, and ants from the yard.

"I can't believe I'm catching bugs for a spider," I said to my husband. His reply: "Why would you let a perfectly good bug go to waste?"

Jonesy has not been very active lately, except when he is receiving snacks. Then he springs into full motion, taking an interest in his prey, subduing it, and eventually eating it with gusto.

Jonesy has acquired quite a larder of bugs, courtesy of my husband and me; I think of it as Jonesy's Chamber of Horrors. It features the carcasses, or shells, of so many bugs from days gone by . . .

I awoke on the morning after Christmas and I glanced into the small web - and thought to myself - hmm, Jonesy's really filling out! It must be all those bugs we've been feeding him!

But my husband took one look and shared the true story: the spider in Jonesy's web on this morning was NOT Jonesy at all! A hostile takeover had occurred!

Our first, horrible thought was that Jonesy had been eaten by the much larger spider. We thought he was a goner. Those were the saddest moments indeed.

To have Jonesy murdered on Christmas night, of all nights? No, it couldn't be! We despaired, we fretted, we lost hope. My husband got out a big lantern and shone it into every corner. Jonesy, oh, Jonesy, where could you be?

It is a tale with grand themes indeed: love, hunger, takeover, loss. Perhaps it is true, as the Bard said (more or less) that all the world's a web, and all of us merely spiders, who fret and strut our precious moments on its strands.

To our great relief, we finally discovered Jonesy himself looking very sad and depressed indeed, about a foot away from his web, as the New Spider moved in, bag and baggage, and began enjoying Jonesy's largesse.

In this photo, you may see the New Spider looking quite happy, among the carcasses of bugs that made up Jonesy's Chamber of Horrors. But the New Spider DIDN'T know Jonesy's secret: that Jonesy had Quite a Large Friend (or even two!) watching over him.

Well, this was a situation we just couldn't allow to continue. So my husband gave the interloper a gentle poke with an incense stick, and the New Spider moved up the wall where I quite easily removed it, with the mercy jar, to an alternative location.

To place it in the outdoors would mean certain death this time of year. So instead, I placed the New Spider in a quiet corner of our garage where the temperature never goes below freezing.

Right now, Jonesy is hanging out in a corner above the bag of potatoes, enjoying a small consolation prize: a tasty fly my husband brought him on this afternoon.

Jonesy clutched the fly tight to his chest, and then ripped it apart, limb from limb. ("Jonesy's acting really feisty," my husband said. And maybe you would too, after a hostile takeover!)

For now, Jonesy is still a bit subdued; he seems to be working on getting his mojo back. Some things have been lost: truth be told, when we removed the interloper, much of the old web (and assorted snackage) went with it.

We are hopeful that Jonesy will rebuild his web, once he is feeling strong enough; and that he will eventually make the long, uphill climb back into the light.

The soundtrack: Creedence Clearwater (Spider) Revival, with Fortunate Son.