Life on the Edge

If there is any one spider that visually exemplifies all the fears of every arachniphobe in this world, then it would be the Tasmanian huntsman, as ferocious a spider as one could imagine. In truth, it’s not all that dangerous. With no poison, just a mean bite, it just looks ugly as hell with its two inch to three inch diameter body and furry legs . Some ancient fear, however, is easily brought to the fore when a huntsman drops from the car visor onto your lap while driving. Anyway, the other morning after I had replenished the firewood on the Peace Fire, just as I sat back for a little quiet time, I noticed a huntsman spider running frantically up and down the log that I had just put on the fire; a spider definitely in a hurry to get out of an increasingly difficult situation. In my attempt to help world peace, inadvertently, I was destroying this spider’s home and creating a refugee as he/she fled their homeland the woodpile. It was too late to pull out the log, so I got the shovel and tried to coax the spider onto it so that I could, at least, carry it to greener pastures. No way. The spider avoided the shovel and just kept hopping around on its eight warming feet. Okay..... “Take a deep breath and bend down and pick up the scared, scary spider with your bare hands”, some higher more compassionate force within me screamed its plea. Did it. And, I felt a bit of pride in overcoming my initial fear. I sat back down to continue the morning’s meditation when, you guessed it, another two spiders crawled out from under the bark of the same log and began their search for an exit. The last one was captured on film before being provided with safe passage in the palm of my hand. No sweat.