Encounter with a Black Widow!

The Jetta perches at the entrance to a closed forest road deep within Shawnee. Quick sidebar on the car. This is the second Volkswagen Jetta TDI that I've had, and I want to briefly trumpet the virtues of this vehicle, especially as I suspect many people who read this blog are serious travelers. The TDI Jetta is diesel-powered, and gets phenomenal mileage. On this trip, which is about 100 miles one way, I averaged about 48 miles per gallon. Plus, the car runs at least as clean as a regular gasoline-powered vehicle, has oodles of torque, handles like a sports car, and is full of cool gimickry. Something to consider next time you're car shopping.

Anyway, our story unfolds on the steep bank just behind the car, and just past that yellow gate. I was wandering up the road, and right away saw a Bird's-foot Violet, Viola pedata, in flower. This most beautiful of our violets is running late this spring, and it was the only one that I saw in flower this day. I walked to the plant, and leaned down to clear some grasses from the field of view before making a photo. Just then, a medium-sized beetle buzzed by, and promptly became ensnared in a tangled jumble of spider webbing. I was sort of absently wondering whether the webmaster might be home, as I continued paying the violet some mind.

Suddenly - WOW! Out from the grasses, just a few feet away, waltzed a gorgeous Northern Black Widow, Latrodectes variolus. Needless to say, Viola pedata was quickly forgotten and I focused my attention - and camera - on this seldom seen animal.

The widow was just as cool as you'd ever hope to be. She didn't run wildly to the hapless victim, as some lesser spiders would. She just sort of strutted through the cobwebbing in her own sweet time, while I thanked my lucky stars that such a treat would land right in my lap.

Once she reached the beetle (at least I think it's a beetle; I don't recognize the species), Ms. Widow began the process of binding it with silken strands. By this time, the bug had ceased any struggles; in fact, it quit writhing about before the spider even arrived on the scene. I suspect it had a heart attack when it realized its fate.

By now, I had gingerly worked myself into a prostrate position only a few feet away, and the spider paid me no mind. Fortunately, the Canon already had the 100 mm macro lens bolted on, so I was good to go. In this shot, we're looking at the ventral side (bottom) of the spider. Note that the classic "hourglass" red markings are broken, or disconnected. Our other species, the Southern Black Widow, Latrodectes mactans, has the red markings connected and constricted in the center, and they really do form an hourglass shape. CLICK HERE to see photos of a Southern Black Widow that I encountered a few years back.

In general, these are apparently rather locally distributed spiders in Ohio, and largely confined to the southernmost reaches of the state. Widows probably are not particularly rare, but they're shy and retiring, and often hide in nooks and crannies where they won't be seen.

In this shot, we can see silken strands playing out from her spinnerets. Just aft of the spinnerets is a bright red dash that runs up her back, and the broken hourglass is in front of the spinnerets. Northern Black Widows are apparently often ornamented with red markings on the upper surface, while Southerns rarely are.

By now, she's got a fair bit of webbing around the victim, which is well on its way to mummification. I've said it before and I'll say it now: DO NOT return as an insect. Your fate is not likely to be a pleasant one.

Spiders are incredibly cool, and certainly must rank high among the world's most coordinated animals. Widows make an insensible and sometimes fairly extensive tangle web with no rhyme or reason to it. Yet the spider deftly navigates the webbing - which it laid down of course - while all other comers, if small enough, are quickly stuck fast. Getting up close, like we are in these shots, allows one to really watch the hyper-coordinated finesse with which the spider unravels silk from its spinnerets and routes it into position by using the tips of any of its eight legs.

Finally, after she felt her prey was adequately wrapped, the black widow tugged it through the webbing and to the mouth of her lair, which is that opening just behind her and to the right. She was hiding in there when the beetle hit the web, and its struggles spurred her to action. I happened to glance down just in time to see her emerge from her den, and that started this sequence of observations.

I am a firm believer in never killing something just because it scares you, or you think it somehow unworthy. Even black widows have their place, and they are a fascinating part of our biodiversity. But I'm always flopping to the ground to take photos or study something, and this encounter reminded me to take a more careful look before I go prostrate.