Those who know me, know that I don’t generally kill the insects that find their way into my home (except mozzies, because they actually are there to attack me). Occasionally that includes encouraging a large aggressive spider into a jar to be returned to the garden where they belong.
Tonight’s example was particularly aggressive, striking the broom at least twice before I encouraged it down to a jar application height, and I’ll admit that was one of the few nerve-wracking captures I’ve done. It ended well with a happy spider scuttling off into the bushes and the broom seemed no worse for wear.
What struck me about wrangling the spider was how much it reminded me of writing a novel. Yes, sad to say that it actually did.
Why? Because wrangling a spider means deciding where to start, gently coaxing the spider to move where you want it to – but push too hard and you risk it vanishing behind the bookshelves – and after many many stops and reassessments you finally catch it in the jar. But that’s not the end of the process because you then have to decide where to release it and, inevitably, coax it out of the jar.
The process can be mildly terrifying, depending on how hard an individual spider is to wrangle (and your own level of arachnophobia) and sometimes you just have to give it up for a bit until you and the spider are ready to try again. Likewise the relocating sometimes has to wait until an appropriate time (like in daylight).
Sometimes I think I’m a better spider wrangler than I am a novel wrangler. Though I haven’t developed a novel phobia… yet.