These are some great (albeit a tad gruesome for the grasshopper) photos, and it was an interesting scene to stumble upon. In my delight, I proudly showed my newfound spider to The Rock when he arrived home a few hours later (the spider was still latched onto the grasshopper).
With mild amusement he said, "Oh, yeah...and that's a black widow."
"No it's not. There isn't any red on it. I looked."
He leans closer. "Sure there is, it's maybe a little faded."
Scooting my face to within inches of the spider I said, "No. There's no red. Just black." I kept looking, watching the spider move, and then I saw it. There WAS red on it's abdomen.
There was a mad scramble to smash the spider.
The moral of the story is: If you are ever inclined to stick your hands into our flower pots...well, let's just say the Big Bad Black Widow escaped execution tonight. (shiver).
P.S. In honor of the grasshopper (har har).
2 comments:
That is so scarry! Good thing the rock was there for you. Lizzy woke up one morning this week with 10 bites on her arm I didnt know where she got them but I had a feeling. So i went up to her bed and got my vacuuum out and took her bed apart and found a spider under her pillow. That made me so angry that it attacked my baby that many times. I was happy to smash it.
Good for you! Mean ol' spider--that was the wrong place for it to take up residence.
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