When I leaned the steps against the conservatory wall and climbed, my brush loaded with paint, it could so easily have ended in tragedy.
A daddy-longlegs spider, Pholcus phalangioides, hanging upside down in her flimsy web, came within an inch of being submerged in a tide of Apricot Blush emulsion.
After I caught her in a jam jar, I could see that she was holding a cocoon containing pink eggs in her jaws. These spiders have a strong maternal instinct, depositing their eggs in a web only while they catch prey, but otherwise carrying the unborn in their mouths until they hatch.
These lanky, harmless arachnids need warmth and are confined to human dwellings in Britain. In 1958 the eminent arachnologist WS Bristowe, in his book The World of Spiders, described how he zig-zagged across England on his motorcycle, requesting to see hotel rooms on the pretext that he might rent them, so that he could check for the presence of Pholcus and map its distribution. He only found it along a narrow corridor in southern England.
Since then this synanthropic spider has moved north – perhaps in furniture removal lorries, because it seems to have a predilection for living behind settees and under tables – and has even reached the Shetland islands.
Pholcus has a reputation for preying on other spiders, by entering their webs and vibrating, imitating struggles of a snared fly. Then it uses its long legs to wind silk around the duped victim before paralysing it with fast-acting venom.
I watched my leggy captive race away along the window ledge, with a gait reminiscent of a galloping giraffe, towards the far end of the conservatory, where a house spider, Tegenaria saeva, lives in its ragged cobweb. This is the largest domestic spider, an aggressive lion among arachnids, but the deceptively timid Pholcus is said to be capable of eating it. Like so much natural history lore, this is endlessly repeated in books but I have never met an eyewitness to such titanic encounters. Perhaps they take place at night.
Maybe the two spiders will continue to coexist at opposite ends of the redecorated conservatory. Maybe the house spider’s days are numbered. I’ll be watching.
