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With something like fifteen quadrillion spiders around, we can’t escape them. Can we learn to love them?
Kathryn Schulz is,
like many of us, petrified of those eight-legged, often venomous
cannibals that live in our homes. “My feelings about spiders were the
opposite of those old Wild West posters: I didn’t want them dead or
alive,” she writes, in a piece for the 100th Anniversary Issue. This past fall, she decided to confront her fears, picking up “The Lives of Spiders,”
a book by Ximena Nelson, a professor of animal behavior. “Part
textbook, part encyclopedia, part coffee-table book for those whose
taste in décor runs toward shabby eek,” Schulz writes, the book is rich
in scientific detail and in “endearing if not entirely contagious
enthusiasm” about the arachnid world.
Schulz
learns many fun facts about spiders: that, collectively, they eat at
least half a billion pounds of meat per year (more than the amount
consumed by humans); that they have a penchant for postcoital
cannibalism; that one species lives underwater, attaching an air bubble
to its web; that some have been known to travel hundreds of miles on a
parachute of their own silk, occasionally landing on ships in the middle
of the ocean. She’s coming around on spiders—at least theoretically.
“It’s humbling to see a creature I’ve always reviled rendered so
beautifully,” Schulz realizes. “Humbling, too, to be reminded of what
none of us should ever forget, that reflexively hating anything alien to
us is the beginning of evil.”
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