Today I saw a ladybird fly straight into a web that a spider has set up outside our kitchen window, up near the top left corner. I love this sort of situation - the playground thrill of seeing someone in deep do-do that isn't you. It didn't struggle or flap, just lay there with an "okay, get it over with" sort of resignation. The spider obligingly sidled up, studied it for a moment, and abruptly turned away again.
The ladybird then dropped like a stone a couple of feet straight into a web that another spider has set up directly beneath, by the bottom left corner. Same story. Spider goes up, "oh, sorry, didn't recognise you," and retreats tugging its forelock.
Ladybird finally wriggles free of the second web, lands upside down on windowsill, rights itself and trudges nonchalantly away.
What sort of ladybird holds such sway over the arachnoid community? Normally I give spiders a great deal of latitude. I'm not arachnaphobic, not even of the big hairy ones that land with an audible impact when they try to make it up the sides of the bath. Much of this is due to the valuable service they perform of keeping the air clear of flying wrigglies. Tough job but someone has to do it and it's friendlier to the environment than Raid. But if they have negotiated some kind of "get out of jail free" card scheme with the ladybirds, I want to know why.
And I would remind our eight-legged friends - I'm bigger than they are, and I have a vacuum cleaner.
Unlike most ladybirds which are mostly red with black bits, this one was mostly black with red bits. Maybe it's a gang.
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