A little insect half as large as a grain of corn, finds itself on a limb high above ground and is desirous of reaching another, five feet away. It is not a jumper, at least it could not hope to cover this distance; neither has it wings. But it has a marvelous silk-manufacturing apparatus, known as spinnerets (Fig. 169), and elevating its abdomen it reels off a thread which the wind carries across the chasm where it lodges. Across the single cord the spider runs, the act being suggestive of the intelligence of these insects.

The common garden spider (Fig. 170), which may illustrate the group, is seen to differ very materially from the scorpion. The abdomen is not ringed or made up of segments, but is large and plump, and connected with the thorax by a delicate cord or pedicel.

The spiders, as we have seen, have a spinning arrangement by which they form beautiful webs or nets to capture prey. By this silken cord they can lower themselves from great heights. The single thread which supports them is made up of a number of minute threads (Fig. 171). The webs are formed in endless variety and with all the skill of a bridge maker, being guyed, supported, and braced in a manner which, if the work of man, would be said to be the result of endless study. They are perfect in their arrangement, and each web is a study in geometry, yet the spider builds it with the greatest rapidity, never hesitating in the making or repairing.

By my door is a huge spider similar to the one shown in Figure 172. It has a beautiful web which covers a space two feet square, but the spider rarely occupies it. Near by it has a covering formed of a leaf of a fern which it has pulled down each side and fastened, forming a little room just the size of its body. Wondering how the spider would discover a victim caught in the web, I examined it carefully, and then placed a grasshopper in the web. Instantly the spider noted the disturbance, having what to all intents and purposes was a private telephone line. This was a single guy line leading from the center of the web to its retreat, where one of the spider's claws rested upon it, holding it, so that the slightest swaying of the web lifted its foot. When an insect became entangled, the spider darted at it, and by skillful manipulation of its hind pair of legs reeled off its silken cord and attached it to the victim at every point, in a short time literally binding it in a roll. If it was likely to escape, the spider would bite it, using its poison fang (Fig. 173), which paralyzed it. The biting mandibles (Fig. 174) are terrible weapons, from which there is no escape. The inner jaws (Fig. 175) are equally sharp and effective. The eyes of the spider are very brilliant, and in a bright light can be seen to gleam and glisten like points of steel or fire. They are minute dots, seen just above the mandibles.

The male and female spiders often present a very different appearance, the male being smaller. The spiders deposit eggs which are inclosed in silken balls or nests of various kinds, in which they remain until the young are hatched. Some are concealed in the web; others are placed underground; and some are perched upon a stalk resembling a plant.

There appears to be no limit to the uses to which the marvelous silk of spiders is put. Some spiders form balloons with which they sail away through the air. I have seen scores of these aËronauts in the air at one time. Another form constructs a raft of leaves bound together with silk. Some build nets for small game, as gnats. The silken cord made by others is so tough that it can be used as thread.

By partly destroying a web and suspending a black cloth behind the locality, the operations of the spider in building and repairing can be plainly seen. It is well to place the spinnerets beneath a microscope, under which they appear to be made up of many points. Touch one of these and a glutinous secretion adheres, which when stretched is seen to be silk, and each point provides a separate thread which joins with the others, producing one cable. The spinnerets are to some extent movable. They can be turned to the right or left, and wherever they touch, the silk remains glued fast. This explains why the spider moves and works so quickly and accomplishes so much. The amount of silk secreted is astonishing, and some idea of it can be obtained by walking over the country in spring, early in the morning. On the slopes of the Sierra Madre, in the San Gabriel Valley, I have seen the surface of the ground for a great distance covered with webs which caught the rays of the sun as it rose, presenting a most beautiful appearance. This fabric covered hundreds of acres in a fairy maze of web, so many traps for unwary small fry of the insect world. With a small stick I have wound a large amount of silk from the spinnerets of a spider, there apparently being no diminution of the supply. Professor Burt Wilder wound from the large spider known as Nephila plumipes several miles of silk. Some spiders have long, slender legs and are rapid runners. Others, as Salticus, are very deliberate, but powerful leapers, jumping upon their prey like a cat. Perhaps the most remarkable leaping spider is one from Australia, called the flying Attus, having singular flaps or winglike extensions upon its sides. One of the spiders not only runs over the surface of the water readily, but spends a part of its time under the surface, carrying down a bubble of air for its supply of oxygen, the bubble acting as a diving bell.

The spiders are very solicitous of their young, placing every safeguard about them, and resenting any attack by a fierce rush. Several large spiders (Fig. 176) carry their young upon their backs. The little spiders are rubbed or scraped off when they become too great a burden. The spiders are natural hunters and trappers, and a volume could be written on their methods and adventures in running down prey. Once as I was crawling through the almost stifling brush of one of the Florida Keys I came to a little opening about five feet wide, across which was a large, conspicuous, and powerful web. In the center of this web clung a huge and most remarkable spider, colored a vivid yellow and black. I watched it for a few moments while resting, and then touched the web, whereupon the spider began to swing, by raising and depressing its body, increasing its speed rapidly, until I could with difficulty see it. A moment later it disappeared almost entirely before my eyes. For half a minute the spider kept up this motion, then it slowly came to a standstill, having demonstrated that it could easily disappear from any bird enemy without running away. I have seen the daddy longlegs perform the same feat in California.

The spiders which build webs, from plain geometrical traps to conelike affairs, are interesting; but the trapdoor spiders and those which dig burrows are among the wonderful artisans and engineers of the insect world. One of the most perfect doors, in hinge, fit, beauty of interior, finish, and quality of its outward defense is built by a spider (Fig. 177). In the illustration, the den and its trapdoor is shown, and in Figure 178 a sectional view of the same is seen; but the door is never found open, the spring or hinge being so devised as to remain closed. I have found many of these dens in southern California sometimes a foot or more in length. The spider is not the large one shown in the cut, which is a tarantula, but is very much smaller, though a large spider. The genera, Cteniza and Nemesia, are best known for their cunning and skill as builders. The California spider begins its den when very small, and I have found many the size of goose quills, with door complete, in the vicinity of a large den.

In forming the burrow the spider carries out the clay bit by bit, and when it reaches a point below the surface it begins to line the sides with a silken tapestry. The door is an upper extension of this lining. It is round, about the size of a silver quarter, or a little larger, and is formed of silk so woven and interwoven that it becomes a pad of seeming satin, which by continued manipulation is made to fit with marvelous perfection. The spring or hinge is so adjusted that the door always closes, and with a snap. The exterior of the door is covered with clay, and is made to simulate the surroundings so exactly that only the sharpest eye, and one skilled in the work, can distinguish it. In some of the European spiders of this kind the door is carefully covered with moss and plants. The work of building is done at night. The spiders feed at night, and in returning to the burrow they can lift the lid instantly, dart in, and turn about to seize the cushion or pad of the door with their fangs, and hold it so tightly by bracing back that some little strength is needed to force it. I have often lifted the door with the blade of my knife and seen the spider rush up and seize it. In all the doors little round holes can be seen where the mandibles or fangs hold. The spider can be caught by pouring water into the burrow and forcing it out. In the island of Timos there is a trapdoor spider which does not hunt, but combines the methods of other spiders. It comes out at night, fastens back its door by a thread, then builds a web near by and waits for its victims to become entangled.

The largest spiders are called tarantulas, though the term is applied to some forms not so large. They are hideous creatures, and are very common in southern California. They are five or six inches across the legs, and the body in some forms is as large as a small mouse, and is covered with reddish hair. They form deep burrows, but not trapdoors, the entrance being open or covered by a web. They are supposed to be very poisonous. Mygale Hentzii is the name of the common American species found in the southwest (Fig. 177). They hunt at night for grasshoppers, crickets, and other small game, and can often be seen lumbering along over the roads at sunrise, returning from a hunt. Sometimes these huge spiders migrate in a body, such a movement having been observed in southern California.

A South American species has been known to attack and capture small birds, though this may be considered rather the exception than the rule, their food consisting of large insects and small lizards. Of all the spiders, the Tarantula turricula (Fig. 179) is the most remarkable, as it not only makes a deep burrow, but erects above it a chimneylike structure with all the skill of a human workman. Indeed, the structure, in neatness and perfection of design, is far superior to many of the chimneys seen among the poorer classes of some countries. The spider lays the miniature timbers across with the precision and exactness of a skilled carpenter and after the manner of human log-cabin builders. The female carries her young upon her back, as shown in the illustration.