Texas Wildlife

So one of the things I do in my spare time is Geocaching. It's a geek thing that I participate in for no apparent reason -- for those of you not up to speed on your tech-oriented time-wasters, Geocaching is basically a big ol' game of hide and seek. People hide a container with a bunch of no-value junk and publish high-accuracy GPS coordinates and/or other hints; using a GPS and maps of the area, other people go find it, log their finds, and trade other no-value junk.

The containers I look for are generally in the "ammo can" size range. I got into it when I got bored riding the same ol' roads on my bike and discovered that I could explore new territory while kidding myself that I was there for some actual purpose. I've found more hidden back roads and unknown spots of interest using a GPS to chase down these things than any other single method I've used, including random riding.

In the process, I've gotten hooked on the actual "game" of Geocaching, and now carry a high-precision GPS around with me any time I'm on the road, whether on a bike or in a car.

Today I was on the outskirts of Dallas, hacking through traffic, when my GPS display notified me that there was a Geocache nearby. Following up, I found myself on a dead-end concrete road with not another soul around, and surrounded by trees -- a quiet little oasis of countryside I had no idea existed, with high-population, new city neighborhoods less than 3/4 mile away on every side.

Getting out of the car, and tracking closely with my GPS, I finally found the cache -- an ammo can perfectly camouflaged at the base of a tree, loosely covered with branches. At this point, I discovered that I'd left my pen in the car, and would therefore not be able to log my "visit" at the site, which meant that I didn't get "credit" for it. Don't ask, it's almost an OCD thing that you have to not only find the freaking thing, but you have to brag that you found it, which involves proving you were there. All caches contain a notebook (along with the "trade" junk) for that purpose, but without a pen, I was out of business.

So, I wedged the ammo can out of its hiding spot and brought it with me out of the woods to my car. I tossed it into the passenger seat while I dug through the glovebox looking for a pen.

Finally finding one, I grabbed the "lift up" latch/handle on the ammo box cover to pop it open. Eww, something squishy under the latch and (now) under my fingers. WTF? Oh, a spider egg pouch. At the same time it registered what I'd stuck my fingers into, a black, furry blob which looked to be about the size of my fist (but was probably actually about as big around as a quarter) ran out from under the latch, across my hand, up my arm, and perched on my shoulder:



Now, I'm not saying this startled me or anything, but someone in my car may have screamed like a little girl. And perhaps soiled themselves.

The spider, on the other hand, was not startled a bit. This type of spider is VERY common in this area -- it's known as a Bold Jumper ("Phidippus Audax" for those of you with a taxonomic bent). The reason it's called that is because (1) it jumps on it's prey instead of building webs, which means it's faster than greased goose shit and (2) it ain't afraid of ANYTHING. This one in particular was waving it's front legs around in my face in a display that indicated either that it was right pissed off or (somewhat less likely) that it wished to mate with me.

Having no desire to either rumble or have a meaningful personal encounter with an aggressive furry spider, I exited the car with some alacrity, which process was much assisted by yelling "MOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKER MOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKERMOTHERFUCKER" while slapping vigorously at my clothes. This was apparently effective, as I suddenly noticed that the freakin' thing was on the concrete road at my feet, watching me closely, waving it's front legs and moving and circling like a boxer to keep me constantly in front of it.

The little shit wanted to fight.

"Fine, Bubba, you wanna go for it?" I thought, "Watch THIS!"

I raised my foot to squash it like...well, like a bug. Now, I gotta tell you, if I'm this spider, I'm running for my life at this point. Not so THIS one, though. It tracked my foot up and over, waving it's front legs, not giving an inch, and clearly telling me "Give it your best shot, asshole!"

Sigh. OK, I let him go. Even in the bug universe, I gotta respect that hard-as-a-coffin-nail, "kiss my ass yer gonna have to kill me cause I ain't ever gonna quit and yer gonna get hurt" attitude.

Bug respect. God I'm getting old.

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Completely unrelated, for you redhead freaks who are missing your fix:


In Our Next Episode: The Snakeskin Story