Recently, I had the
opportunity to rescue a tarantula. He came to me, incredibly
pissed-off, in a peanut jar. A friend found him walking
across the road in a hotter part of the state and decided
catch him. I happened to be there when he brought him home.
There he was, large, hairy, and scared, propped up, pink
fangs exposed, stuck in a jar too small to even put down
all eight legs.
I told my friend that
he better give me the bug so I could at least get him some
food and water. Little did I know that Moses, which is what
I called him since he was crossing the road, would teach
me a humbling lesson about my ever so intelligent human
species.
Not knowing squat
about the needs of a prehistoric spider, I ran around finding
out everything I could about him. Moses needed a sandy environment,
an abundance of live insects for food, a hot rock, a bowl
of water and a heating pad. For the next few weeks, I watched
him in his new home. What once would've scared me ended
up fascinating me.
Moses barely moved.
He was completely comfortable with silence and the stillness
of his rock. He sat for long periods of time with four of
his eight legs lifted, poised and ready. Like a yogi, he
was content to sit and wait. When he did move, it was amazing.
He seemed to feel everything with his thistly legs. He crawled
over his environment with precision, intention and grace.
When he ate, he was quick. His quarter-inch fangs quickly
paralyzed and broke down his prey. Then he wrapped his food
in silk which he produced from this protrusion in his abdomen.
If he didn't finish his dinner, he would pack it up in a
silk purse which he carried beneath him, even as he walked
around his terrarium. If I happened to provide him with
insects before he was hungry, he simply let them run around
his home. He had no need to kill unless he was feeding.
Humans are not so
kind, I thought, as I watched him. Here is a relatively
docile predator who killed mercifully and only when necessary.
Humans, on the other hand, kill arbitrarily. We torture
our food without any mercy and kill each other for things
like money, jealousy, land and religion. Most of us also
would not hesitate to squash Moses because he is a tarantula.
Even though he is smaller than a human hand, he scares the
crap out of us so we need to kill him.
A world with tarantulas
is one of chaos, of nature in Her many forms - a manifestation
of our personal terrors that actually have nothing to do
with this ancient species. Moses, on the other hand, wanted
nothing to do with me and would probably only bite me if
I really messed with him.
Eventually, I made
my friend take Moses back to where he was found because
during my education, I discovered that he was a boy spider.
He possessed tell-tale hooks on his leg joints to ensure
mating with a female tarantula. Male tarantulas do not thrive
in captivity because they need to mate. Moses was looking
for action that day, taking a big risk by crossing the road.
Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for me, my friend
found him and put him in that jar.
I hope he found his
mate. I also hope he wasn't too put out by being my teacher
for those few weeks.
