I have a black widow spider living just outside the back door of my residence in New Mexico. Two nights ago, I checked on the spider while returning from watering my garden. I noticed there was a second spider sharing the web—a tiny one. A male black widow! For the first time, I was seeing live a phenomenon that is featured in all the books about spiders. The male black widow puts everything on the line in hopes of mating with the female, who is twice his size and inclined to eat him. I watched their dance, with the male hovering in the web atop the female’s abdomen. I disturbed them by getting too close while attempting a photo, and sent the female scampering back to her protected corner behind the outdoor electrical outlet, where she can hide from outsized dangers such as me. Meanwhile, the male dropped like a stone, until being caught by his silken life line. He climbed up the thread, to continue his quest. All my photos of their love ritual were coming out blurry, so I gave up, and left them in peace.
The next night, I flipped on the light outside. The male spider was dead in the web. The circle of life. Only time will tell if he managed to seduce the female long enough before her hunger took over. We will see whether the female produces an egg sac.
A beetle flew into the web, perhaps drawn to the light. The black widow spider sprung into action, trussing up the insect in silk, her rear legs working rapidly to wrap the prey. The unfortunate beetle didn’t stand a chance. It received a quick death, as the spider’s bite paralyzed it then liquefied its insides. The fortunate spider consumed the nourishing innards-smoothie, and would live on, and might even make baby spiders. There was no way not to feel sorry for the beetle; all living things want desperately to stay alive—from microbes to ourselves. The circle of life in a beautiful, heartless world.
