Lumpy, bumpy, orange spider

I almost stepped on her. A fat, orange spider was parked right beside my work chair; when I turned to go for a coffee, my foot missed her by a couple of inches. She didn't even move.

She barely bothered to react when I put the camera down a few inches from her eyes. Trusting soul!

I took more photos. She turned her back on me. I don't think she liked the flash.

"Knees up, Mother Orange!"

I think she's a Marbled Orbweaver, Araneus marmoreus, an extremely variable species, but the eye placement is right, and the pattern of legs and body fits. And these spiders hate the light.

An interesting exchange on BugGuide:

"While focusing I noted that the round protruberances on her back were pulsating. Are these respiratory?..."
"Yes! ... I've noticed the pulsating as well. I believe it is a defense mechanism. ... It could be that they are trying to produce silk so that they can 'web' away from me.
But as I originally said, I think it's just a defense mechanism. Perhaps to make them look larger to predators."
… Nikole Loomis (Bush Cricket and Buckeye Lover)

When I was done, I shooed her off towards a corner, where she could safely lay in wait for the next passing harvestman. I went for the coffee, finally. When I came back, there she was, sitting patiently beside my chair again. Time to deport her!

In an Ikea glass, waiting to be moved.

I put her outside, in the rain. And it turned out that was a lucky move. That white powder on her pedipalps in the first photo? I realized that it was the remains of some diatomaceous earth I'd spread around in the hot days of last summer, when we had been invaded by fleas. I had vacuumed it since, of course, but there's a bit still hanging around in the back of my closet. And it's a spider killer, too.

Although it feels much like talcum powder to humans, diatomaceous earth is actually jagged, and when spiders walk across the powder, it begins to jab and cut into their hard exoskeleton. According to the Oregon State University, the wounds created by the jagged diatomaceous earth cause the spiders to desiccate, or lose all of the liquids and oils from their bodies. This desiccation eventually leads to death. (From sfgate)

It's a slow killer. It takes a spider two days or more to dry out and die. However, if it rains, or if the ambient humidity is high (like anywhere outside here, these days) the diatomaceous earth slides off, and the spider lives.

And fortunately, "Mother Orange" had collected it on her pedipalps and some of her feet; most of her skin was clean. I think she'll live.

"... and the little one said, ..."

It's getting crowded around here. Not only do I have to share my bed with three rambunctious kittens*, and sometimes their mother, I found this big blond spider hogging my pillow, too.

"Move over!"

I haven't seen one like this here before. I'm wondering if she's a recently molted one of the usual residents:

On the wall over my bed. Not invited in.

The resident sowbug deleter. Not welcome in bed, either.

I'll send her photo in to BugGuide for an ID. (Update: sac spider, yellow sac or similar. And very pregnant.)

*One kitten has gone to her new home; three to go soon. Then maybe I can get some sleep.

Of fangs and feet

I went out in a pouring rainstorm to look for sowbugs for my spider momma. grabbed the first thing I saw, and brought it inside. The old smokestack; it would be damp and dark; I could be sure of finding some good spider groceries there.

I hadn't thought of springtails. I think they're too small for my Brownie, anyhow. But there they were; cute, fat, globular springtails, scurrying grey Orchesellas, hints of those blind, white ones, just disappearing beneath flakes of rust. And there was a tiny, golden spider, small enough to consider a springtail a good meal.

Spider on the right, globular springtail hiding in the crack to the left.

Her fangs are as big as the springtails themselves.

Iffy photo. Included because of the claws.

Spiders' feet are complex structures; they have to be for the spider to race along her web, or hang on in a windstorm. (Or to hold onto the windshield of my car while I drive; one came home with me like that from Boundary Bay, 25 km away.)

Spider toes.

First, the tips of the feet are hairy. But those hairs have "feet", themselves; each one ends in a flat suction cup-like structure, and each cup has its own feet.

The end of each leg is covered with thick brushes of hair, and the end of each hair is covered in tiny microscopic "feet." (From How stuff works.) (Diagram here.)

And then, big enough for my camera to get a glimpse of them, each of the eight feet ends in two toothy claws. (Visible on the foot on the left, above.) If the spider is a web builder, like Brownie, she also has a smaller, third claw, behind these two, which is used to hold a strand of silk and slide along it as she goes. The two toothed claws work for general walking.

Diagram of web-walker's foot, from microscopy.uk.org.

So; Brownie got her dinner, a fat sowbug from the smokestack, and she was very excited about it. So much so that she was scrabbling on the wet glass of her box, and not getting anywhere until she decided on a less direct route. Those feet are wonderful, but they don't cling to wet glass!

(More info on spider feet, at Infinite Spider, SpydaWeb, and How Stuff Works.)

Creatures great and small

The sun finally overpowered the clouds, and, by the end of the afternoon, even warmed our backs. We wasted no time heading for Tsawwassen and Centennial Beach. At the entrance to the park, the hawks and eagles were out in force, several in every clump of trees, the leftovers sitting on power poles. An osprey was casting back and forth over the swamp, hunting. (And we think we've found their nest; next time, we'll head that direction.)

In the centre of the duck pond, the redwings are nesting, and making quite a racket about it, almost drowning out the chattering ducks (mallards, wigeons and assorted hybrids) and the gulls, who were arguing, as they do, over a few handfuls of bread crumbs.

Juvenile redwing on spotty reeds.

Off-shore were more ducks and gulls, and far out in the bay, flocks of small, dark birds, flying back and forth in long lines or bobbing up and down on distant waves. These came close enough to be identified, just barely:

Surf scoters. The white spots are the backs of their heads; the pink triangles are those ridiculous beaks. The two in drab are females.

And this made us very sad:

Gull with torn foot

He came right up to my feet, begging for food. He even tried to eat the cracked corn I was carrying; most gulls just look at it scornfully. Happily, a woman came along with bread and crackers. I hope he gets a good share of tomorrow's barbecues. (I'm hoping it's still sunny.)

The poor gull could barely put his foot on the ground; mostly he hopped or flew. The foot was not only broken, but badly mangled and torn. Here's another view:

Looks painful.

What could have done this? It looks to me as if he had been grabbed and shaken by a dog. Both the leg and the foot are ripped in several spots, and the bone is broken.

I love dogs, but I wish people would keep them on a leash if they have the slightest tendency to chase birds. It's not as if they were having to hunt down their food; they're not wolves or coyotes any more.

On a happier note, I found this spider running along the sand. I've never seen one like it before. I've submitted a couple of photos to BugGuide.

Orange and black sand spider.

(Update: Lynette Schimming, at BugGuide, says it's a wolf spider, of some kind. Update # 2: Arctosa perita.)

More cheerfulness:

But it's serious business.

And on the way home, we saw this small merlin, the first I have seen close up. I had to lighten the photo quite a bit, because it was silhouetted against a bright sky.

As interested in us as we were in him.

And Laurie got his feet soaking wet inside the boots, collecting water and seaweeds for our critters in the tank. They appreciated it: he's so good to them!