I am not a “city girl.” I was raised in Maine, which is about as far from “city” as you can get. Even our biggest cities (Portland and Bangor) cause Midwestern suburbanites to snicker and sneer. I have been two feet away from moose in an uncontrolled environment, I have sunk into a bog up to my chest (and lost a shoe in said bog), I’ve even gone camping without access to running water. Since graduating from college *cough*overadecadeago*cough*, however, I have lived in what Mainers would describe as urban areas.
Until June 15th of this year, that is. On June, 15th my career transplanted Spencer and I into a town in northern, rural Arizona with a population of 14,000 people.
No, that number is not missing a zero. Our new hometown is about half the size of Bangor, Maine. We have more elk than people. We probably have more javelina than people. It’s very Northern Exposure meets Bonanza out here.
I was really excited when we had our first group of javelina wander through the yard. They had babies with them! BABY PIGS!* IN MY YARD! It’d been so long since I’d seen a baby animal in the wild that you would have thought the javelina had knocked on our door and invited us to tea. We even had one of those squirrels that looks like it has pigtails instead of ears.
However, along with all the cute that nature has to offer there is also the terrifying. I have been warned that this fall I will see tarantulas scampering about, looking for mates and warm places to hide. God help the tarantula that wanders into my path, because while I have a lot of sympathy for wild animals, and empathy beyond measure for all living things, I have an almost pathological fear of anything with more than four legs.
This weekend I had what I would describe as an “altercation” with a wolf spider.
I was innocently sweeping leaves off of our back porch when, excuse me while I paint with words here, a fucking huge wolf spider** scampered out from the pile and ran towards me. Now, I’m not a barbarian, I have a solid agreement with insects: you’re safe unless it’s a home invasion. Outdoors I will actually go out of my way to not kill an insect.
Apparently this spider did not get the memo. As I stepped to the side, to allow him to run away, the spider stopped, assessed my movement, and redirected himself to chase me. At this point I’m squealing like a little girl and hopping out of the way. I move out of the spider’s path no less than three times. Each time the Very Big, Very Scary spider changes direction with me, and continues to run at me. At this point I have no choice but to smack him with the only weapon I have – the broom.
Unfortunately, as soon as I strike him I lose him. Is he in the broom? Who knows, I know I’m not getting my face near it to find out. Did the whacking with the bristles make him fly up onto me? Spinning in circles, like a dog chasing its own tail, trying to see my behind offers no indication that he is attached to me. Did he run away? I don’t see him, but I do jump and let out little cries of terror after every skittering leaf the rest of the time I’m outside.
I’m pretty sure that this spider is currently planning a home invasion, possibly with an army of angry cohorts. I know he’s not dead because it’s not rained in three days in spite of being monsoon season. Living in nature is going to take some readjustment.
I didn’t get a picture of the spider, what with my squealing, arm flailing, and heart palpitations. I did, however, get a picture of this creature this morning.
While I was backing out of the garage I noticed that the moths were staging some kind of festival (mothapalooza, if you will) on our home. Two in particular were so big that I actually put the car in park and got out to take pictures. Some Googling has revealed that this isn’t a moth at all, but something called a Dobsonfly. Apparently, she can draw blood. Next time I won’t be getting out of the car.
I’ll update about the wedding another time. Rest assured, we are married and the day was about as perfect as it possibly could be.
*Technically javelina aren’t pigs, but if you have hooves, a snout, and snort when you look at me and sniff, I’m calling you a pig.
**Don’t google wolf spiders, there are things you can’t unsee.
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
Does that last moth-like creature have giant pinchers? It looks like it has giant pinchers. For the love of God do not get out of the car!
For some reason WP won’t let me reply officially.
Yes, yes those are pincers. Pretty sure Dobsonflies are satan’s little helpers.
REALLY? DID I REALLY NEED A CLOSE-UP OF THAT?
Spencer’s actual words as I cropped it, “Why do you do these things to yourself?”
This post made me laugh out loud. I think we are the same person. I have had similar experiences with the insect portion of wildlife.. namely house centipedes, the big suckers. I’m never moving somewhere where a tarantula and/or scorpion can scamper into my house, it’s just not safe for the rest of society. My yard would become a baron wasteland of pesticide and birds of prey…
We have 3 kinds of pesticide going on outside right now – and I put up the bird feeder last weekend to attract some hunters into the area. I’m hoping it helps.
I am never visiting you. Ever.
My friend turned me on to this post, and I have to say, wolf spiders are absolutely terrifying creatures. Forget that they’re huge for a moment. When they lay eggs, they stay on their backs, those eggs hatch into thousands of little wolf spiders… that stay on their backs! You could see one, and it looks like it’s got a bunch of tumor like things on it… until they ALL START MOVING! They will scamper off in all directions, looking like a disgusting moving ARMY.
Need I add, I hate spiders?
My husband actually catches and releases almost ALL bugs. I have convinced him that ants, flies, and fruit flies are not on the “must kill” list. If he’s home I’ll call him in to do a removal, if he’s not home (or he doesn’t come fast enough) all bets are off. (For what it’s worth, this wolf spider was so big that there was no way I was stepping on him. Especially in flip flops.)