When we returned from our holiday in Namibia (which I have not yet told you about, but hopefully will soon), my Mom, who had been very kindly looking after our house and ensuring that our kittycat was well-fed and not suffering too much from our absence, greeted me with the question, “So, have you seen it yet?”
“Err… Um… No…?”
“Up there, above the window, where Tuffy goes in and out,” she explained, helpfully pointing to said spot.
My heart skipped a beat.
Oh CR4P. It’s Flippin’ HUGE!
(Thank goodness for zoom lenses, is all I can say about that picture.)
I wanted to say, “Honey? Can we go back to Windhoek, please? Let’s not unpack. Let’s just take Tuffy, make some sandwiches, and go.”
Instead, what I said was, acting more blasé than I felt, “Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll get it out later.” (Meaning: Hubby will evict it later, using our tried-and-tested tupperware-and-cardboard method — see here.)
A few hours passed, during which we intermittently cast a wary eye to our uninvited visitor. He – or she – remained in situ.
I was so hoping that he would get fed up with the noisy to-ing-and-fro-ing, pack his bags and move out.
Later that evening, realising that it would be foolish to attempt going to sleep while such a large eight-legged creature was on the loose inside our home, we screwed up enough courage to tackle the matter head-on.
But first we had to move it (ha!) juuuust a little bit down from the ceiling (otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to get the tupperware box over it without hurting one of its legs). But it’s not like you can call it towards you with some tempting morsel, after all!
So we [i.e. my better half] got out the broom and veeeeery gently nudged, and nudged, and nudged, until it suddenly spun around and glared at us, clearly furious!
I promise! Look! The red eye! It was glaring at the camera!
Hubby bravely climbed onto the dining room table, where he was promptly joined by an affectionately purring Tuffy-Cat, who was exceedingly intrigued by all this unusual late-night activity. She’s not allowed on the table (hm…), but clearly felt that the prohibition had been lifted because he was standing on it.
As soon as he had placed the tupperware box gently over the spider, I handed him a sturdy piece of cardboard, which he cautiously slid underneath the edge of the box, and across to the other side. The spider, meanwhile, had crawled up the inside of the plastic container.
And then we went for a bit of a walk around the neighbourhood in the dark, until we found an open space with a couple of palm trees on it. We put the box down next to the one, flipped it over, and waited.
Can you see it in this picture? It’s so well-camouflaged!
But if you look really closely, you might be able to see the flash reflecting from its eye, down at the bottom of the picture. I’ve zoomed in and circled it.
Phew. Another successful eviction. I hope it’ll be happy out here – more space, no people, plenty of insects… Should be a spider heaven. It probably is… sigh… Actually, that’s not a happy thought.
Unfortunately, I fear that there are a few MORE hiding out and proliferating in our garden. I wish the ever-present squad of squabbling Hadedas would be willing to supplement their diet with a few of these.