‘Put aside your fear of spiders to appreciate their beauty’

I call her Pho because it’s a whole lot simpler than pronouncing (or even thinking) her full name. I’ve met her over the years in my own garden, and in many others. Mind you, with her lifespan of just 12 months, there must have been a great number of Phos, but I always think of her as the same one I first met when I was a young lad.

Our sciences teacher — and this was back in the early 1950s — used to take us out on field explorations. Living in a rural area and attending a school situated at the edge of a small country town, it was an easy matter for us to do this. Our teacher was Mr Saunders, only young but already an early version of the modern day environmental conservationist. He taught us to be observant, forever vigilant, to take care placing our feet, and to be watchful for what might be damaged in passing.

It was during one of these walks he introduced us to a gorgeous bush (and garden) resident whose family name is Araneidae, perhaps better identified as Phonognatha graeffei — or, as people best know her, leaf curling orb spider. A pretty little girl with a red to reddish-brown thorax and an abdomen with curving waves of tan, brown and white, she measures only 12mm in body length.

How do I know Pho’s a girl? Because she’s built such a beautiful maternal web home, and due to the fact she is twice the size of the male of her species, who measures just 6mm.

As you can see in my photograph, Pho builds a perfect web that contains a home, a shelter and a hideout all rolled into one. The leaf she used is from a lemon tree more than 10m away. She has dragged it not only along the ground but suspended it at a height under which she can build her web. She remains in her curled leaf with her front legs resting gently on signal filaments attached to the web proper. Vibrations from a trapped insect alert her and she soon dances delicately across her web to immobilise her prize.

In late-summer or early-autumn, the leaf becomes maternity ward and nursery, offering temporary protection to the baby spiderlings from wrens and other marauders before they must whisk away on the wind to a new life — or death — each on its first-spun filament. Many new manifestations of Pho will be bred from this generation and those that follow.

We had a low ground mist recently that evaporated as the sun’s rays came over the horizon. The moisture in the air had created jewelled beads on Pho’s web where it was suspended between two fuchsias. The beads glistened in the sun, catching my eye as I walked back to my front door.

I took the shot and wanted to share the beauty of nature’s world with you, but thought at the same time you might like to read a little of Pho’s story as well. I know many have a fear of spiders but there can be a certain beauty in every single thing Mother Nature does. Sometimes it’s a matter of looking beyond eight hairy legs.

When was the last time you noticed something naturally beautiful? Share your photos and stories.

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