The summer of '70 was a busy one. I bought my first SLR camera that started a long future of paying attention; I started grad school at Auburn; I got married to my first and current wife; and I realized after the honeymoon that I needed a job to afford said wife.
Mercifully, funds were found, and I worked that summer (for a stipend of $200 a month) as a biology teaching assistant and in the lab of an Agricultural Entomologist--an exuberant Greek professor who was tasked with understanding the biology of ground pearls. And that is where I got to know Jessie, the Jumping Spider.
These barely-visible globular creatures are immature, subterranean scale insects. They find the roots of specialty turf grasses on golf course putting greens to be delicious. We're talking lots of money in those smooth green surfaces that need to stay alive and non-lumpy when paying for a round of drinks after the 18th hole goes to the loser.
In my workspace, we were looking at jumping spiders as a possible means of biological control of ground pearls. (They are predators of Bowl Weevils and some other plant pests.) Here is where I met my first and longest lasting Jumping Spider companion. I'll reminisce briefly about Jessie, then we will go, in part III, to the amazing resume of the ordinary jumping spider--and learn there are many EXTRA-ordinary qualities and capabilities of these chunky tank-like spiders.
At first sight at 40x through a reflected-light dissecting scope, Jessie was a magnificent horror show of a creature. His four pair of glossy eyes were arranged strategically on the turret of this miniature robotic tank. Massive iridescent green fangs (chelicerae) gave my new friend a super-villain appearance. But more than the startling close-up appearance of Jessie, the Jumping Spider, was his behavior, which was Other than any other joint-legged invertebrate I had ever paid attention to.
In particular, it was the way he explored his lair of moss and forest floor litter. He could turn a full circle in a heartbeat, his front legs waving in the air like antennae, touching and feeling and exploring. Or hiding under a favorite shelf of bark.
Jessie seemed to move with intention, as if he knew and remembered and learned things from day to day. His motions were twitchy; robotic; sudden and erratic but purposeful to my eye. The first time I watched through the scope as he jumped, I pulled back, reflexively, out of harm's way. (They can jump 8 inches vertically!)
The spider's care and feeding was my responsibility. The very first time I fed Jessie, I watched the spectacle through the scope. I placed a chilled housefly opposite Jessie, behind a rock in the container. As the fly warmed back to an active state and began to move, Jessie started left, saw the fly facing him on the sandy bottom, so he reversed tactics and went counterclockwise around the rock to pounce on the fly from behind. The snatch was far too fast for my eye to see. I just had watched as a spider "planned" and executed an attack as intelligently as a house cat stalking a mouse, but all that hunting prowess packed into a predator only 0.0004 of an ounce (13.5 mg).
Once the fly was pinched and pierced between the two metallic-green "jaws" the meal began. Through the semi-transparent chitin of the mouthparts Jessie imbibed pulses of housefly juice into his gut. This hypodermic feeding of liquid only (no chewing required) allows a tiny jumping spider to attack, subdue and exsanguinate creatures much larger than itself. Be careful out there! { ; > ))
So now you know: I have a history of hanging out with jumping spiders. And I encourage you to do the same! See the links for tips on adopting and caring for and getting to know your own. (What a great gift to a grandchild! Yes?) And expect another installment late next week.
Fun Bold Jumping Spider Facts For Kids