BACKYARD ANTICSby The spider had built its web with shimmering threads finer than silk. Highlighted by the early morning sun, each strand glistened, the faint circlets of silver, an intricate design formed by a master builder. It stretched from the base of the hummingbird feeder hanging just above the deck to a flower box filled with geraniums sitting on the wooden railing. The web was huge, spanning a distance of two feet, and I watched in awe as it swayed deceptively in the soft morning breeze. Robins, some chickadees and a goldfinch frolicked in and around the birdbath, while in the trees, blue jays practiced a duet of raucous, ear shattering calls in a cacophony of sound only other blue jays could appreciate. A phalanx of ants paraded across my deck and a tiny tick, transported from the high grass in my yard on the cuff of my pants, sidled slowly over to the tip of my shoe and fell off, disappearing through a crack on the wooden floor. The leaves on the trees along the perimeter of my backyard were a newborn green coaxed into perfection by alternate days of rain and sun. As a burst of sunlight pierced the foliage, it struck the very heart of the spider’s web and a small yellow wasp, seeking to steal the sweet nectar from the hummingbird feeder became blinded and found itself caught in the silken threads. Its wings beat furiously but it found no way to escape from the spider’s cleverly woven snare. I held my breath as I waited for the cunning master of the web to return. It didn’t take long; he’d been hiding beneath the railing and had watched in anticipation as the angry, buzzing insect twisted and turned. Stealthily, stretching long striped legs from one thin strand to the next, the spider climbed slowly, hungrily, to investigate the insect suspended before him. It extended one long leg to touch the wasp, and assured it could do no harm, seized it and began to feast upon its prey. The spider is truly a clever thing and its web is beautiful but it is also a predator waiting to trap other unwary insects. I begin to debate: The spider is a killer! Should I spray it or should I leave it alone and let nature take its course? I waver back and forth, my mind taking far too long to make a rational decision. Hurry! I tell myself, before he strikes again. The spider hangs there, fat, replete. He’s digested the wasp and is totally unsuspecting of my thoughts and the upraised can of bug spray. Then, I think I hear, "Killer! Killer!" I hesitate. That’s not my voice; it’s a blue jay screaming from the trees. Swooping like a blue stealth bomber across the yard and over to the deck, the bird zooms toward the web, so fast it’s almost a blur. It screams triumphantly and speeds back to the safety of the trees. Looking at the work of art that had been my arachnid’s web I see it is destroyed, the spider gone. Nature is an amazing equalizer…first the wasp and his stealthy executioner and now the executioner, gone to his just rewards with the help of the hungry blue jay. I think of William Shakespeare’s immortal words: "Oh, death, where is thy sting?" Apparently, the answer is right here in my backyard. I am reminded of a large hawk sitting on my railing last spring. "It’s so friendly," I bragged to friends. "Comes here every morning." One of the hanging plants on my deck had a Carolina wren’s nest in it. The eggs had just hatched and I’d heard the parents conversing about their babies. They took terrific care of them while the hawk continued to come for his daily visit. I never put two and two together. The morning the fledglings decided to leave their nest, the friendly hawk was eagerly waiting. Of course, I never saw him again, nor the baby wrens. Mama wren and papa wren are back again this spring but hopefully wiser. They are busily building a nest in another hanging plant and hope to raise a new family there. The antics in my backyard never fail to amaze me. But now, like the wrens, I’m hopefully wiser. I’ll chase the hawk if he dares to come back and I’ll keep a broom handy to sweep away the parading ants, the tiny tics and the cunning spiders that invade my private space. Its time to let them know who’s really the boss here. The end
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