Flies and Spiders

I think flies prefer being outside. When they come inside most of their efforts seem directed towards getting back out again. It is strange how they easily spot an open window on the way in, yet are oblivious to it as a means of exit. It matters little how much one tries to show them the way out, they simply refuse to be assisted. Besides beating themselves against the panes of open windows, flies like to walk round the rims of cups, and the edges of plates, or trample all over bread boards. They seem to know all the places you would least like them to go.

I can only put up with a fly in the room for so long, and when it refuses to leave of its own accord, despite not wanting to be there in the first place, measures must be taken. A swipe from a damp dishcloth at lightning speed would be a quick solution to the problem, you would think. And that is what I always do think, despite knowing from experience that there is no justification for thinking it. I don’t know how many times I have been convinced of a direct hit, and even started searching for the body, only to hear a buzz on the other side of the room where a little black dot is whizzing round the light bulb. While the first strike is always executed with patience and stealth, wild thrashing usually follows.

I am slumped, exhausted and sweating in my chair, watching the little bastard running up the fridge door. Even then, despite overflowing with animosity towards the tiny rascal, I would rather not kill it. Why can’t it just do the decent thing and leave?

While flies make no effort to conceal their presence, spiders, by contrast, prefer to stay out of sight. Usually, I only spot one when I turn on the light and there is a gigantic specimen right in the middle of the wall. Whenever they are confronted they head for the nearest dark crevice, rather than the light. That makes them come across as sinister. Flies annoy me, but spiders worry me. I’m fine with the small ones, it’s the big ones I’m not keen on. While a big spider may only have a body the size of a peanut, it has legs half the length of a cocktail stick, and that is what creates the impression of size.

A completely different approach is needed for dealing with spiders. I keep two empty yogurt cartons at the ready for catching them, one upstairs and one downstairs. My method is to put the yogurt carton over the spider, slide a piece of card underneath it, and then tip the spider out into the garden. The bigger the spider, the more nerve racking I find the operation. The spider will bolt as soon as it sees the carton coming, so speed is of the essence. I do not want to trap its legs, nor do I want my hand to be any closer to it than it has to be, so a certain amount of speed has to be sacrificed in favour of accuracy. It may sound straight forward, but spiders do not go gentle into that good night; they try very hard to avoid it.

If the first attempt at getting the spider into the carton is not successful, its prospects immediately become better than yours. It is very difficult to get a running spider into a yogurt carton, and once it reaches the gap underneath a piece of furniture you may as well just forget it. I don’t suppose it’s such a problem, really. I may not be thrilled about sharing my home with spiders, but as long as I don’t see them it doesn’t really bother me. And if only they were better at catching flies, I would probably encourage them.