You might be preoccupied with climate change, melting ice caps, and the threat of space asteroids, but let’s talk about something even more alarming: it’s literally raining spiders in Australia. Honestly, this is a solid reason to consider finding another planet, much like the characters in Interstellar, or perhaps a cozy spot among the friendly gelatinous beings in WALL-E.
To put it plainly: spiders are falling from the sky. I’m a fully grown adult, happily married with two kids, and I have a financial planner and a Honda. Yet, the thought of spiders descending from above sends me into a panic that makes me wish I could hide in a kangaroo pouch or seek shelter under a kookaburra. I fear only two things in life: heights and spiders. Okay, maybe whales too, just a little, because they’re massive. People say whales are gentle giants that only eat krill and sing beautiful songs, but what if they’re actually feasting on unsuspecting dolphins or old pirates? You just can’t trust them.
I loathe spiders and everything about them. I’ve successfully avoided watching Arachnophobia for 25 years and most of John Goodman’s movies as a precaution. Even the innocent bits of insect trivia in my son’s books—like the fact that the average person consumes about 3,500 spiders while sleeping in a year—don’t strike me as charming. Instead, they underscore humanity’s failure; we can invent spray-on butter and microwaveable cheeseburgers, yet we can’t stop insects from crawling into our mouths at night. If there are any scientists out there who are not busy with something critical, please redirect your efforts to solve this problem before I end up munching on a tarantula in my sleep.
Now, take a look at this picture from Australia. Of course it’s happening there—it’s like the Florida of the southern hemisphere, minus the drive-through pharmacies but with scorpions the size of baseball gloves. Those aren’t snowflakes; they’re spider webs. It’s as if the place is a Golden Corral for spiders, crafted entirely from trapped insects and dust, which, let’s be honest, sounds healthier.
To complicate matters, I now live with an 11-year-old who believes in animal rights for all creatures, including those with eight legs. He’s chastised me for dispatching spiders in our home, insisting I should escort them out with the kind of reverence that would make the Dalai Lama proud. I have a feeling that even he would have a hard time sparing the spiders if given the chance.
According to scientists, these spiders might be using a migration technique called ballooning, where they ascend to treetops and release silk strands to catch the wind, essentially wind-surfing their way to new locations. But honestly, I don’t care if they’re escaping from biker gangs in Texas; that’s still terrifying. I hope Australia has plenty of flamethrowers on hand.
True story: I once dreamt of a spider crawling on my neck. I woke up to find a spider carcass on my hand. Just a heads-up: if you ever dream about spiders on your neck, you best check right away.
In summary, the phenomenon of spiders raining down in Australia is both fascinating and frightening. Whether you’re a spider enthusiast or someone who shares my phobia, the sight of spider webs blanketing the landscape is more than a little disconcerting. And if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.