This is part of a series: Species of the Week.
It is also included in April’s Circus of the Spineless at Grrl Scientist’s blog.
Last week’s species - the California Condor – led to some heavy musing on garbage, carrion, death, extinction. This weekend takes me to LA and Arizona, so I figure it’s time to lighten up and learn more about a species I might encounter on one of the hikes I have planned.
Out of some 850 species of tarantulas worldwide, the genus Aphonopelma includes the four dozen or so species native to the United States. Aphonopelma chalcodes - the Desert Tarantula – is the one I’ll be most likely to meet in Arizona.
Desert Tarantula. Courtesy of National Park Service Mojave National Preserve
No matter what species or genus, tarantulas are one of the few creatures I have mixed feelings about meeting. Yet a single desert tarantula has also been one of my greatest writing inspirations in the last six months. He led me to write a 3596 word lyric essay which Fringe Magazine chose to publish in its spring Environment Issue. It’s available online and includes humor as well as thoughtful reflections on how personality and culture shape human experiences of the natural world.
As I mentioned in a post several weeks ago, I’m proud of this essay as an entry into the hallowed realm of published nature writing. I still find it ironic that a tarantula led me there. I won’t rehash the essay here. I’ve decided instead to ponder one aspect of what it means to be a tarantula.
I was going to write about tarantula sex to drive more traffic to my blog. But thinking about tarantula sex this morning inspired a poem for a separate post, so I had to choose another focus here. I asked myself: what else about tarantula existence puzzles, fascinates and repels me? A new question came at once.
Why in god’s name must they have all that hair?
Before last November when I met that inspirational tarantula in Arizona, I didn’t want an answer to that question. But now I do. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
Many tarantula species have regular hair and defensive or urticating hairs. The urticating hairs are on the top of their abdomen. A tarantula feeling threatened may point his rear, rub it with his hind legs and fling hair. Different species grow different kinds of hairs that vary by size and shape of barbs and also toxicity. Small animals stung by such hairs, especially around the eyes, can die. Humans can get nasty rashes.
Some tarantulas also slough off urticating hairs and spread them outside their lairs or inside, around their silky nests. This discourages predators of all sizes, including insects, from feeding on tarantula eggs.
Looking for interactive tarantula activities? Visit National Geographic’s tarantula portal.
If you’d like to see how tarantulas have inspired my growing literary repertoire, you can read my “Ode to a Theraphosid.” It’s very short. Or you can visit Fringe Magazine and read “A Nature Lover’s Phobia.”
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