National Geographic: The Savage Garden Page #3

---

So far, so good.

She lets him insert sperm by hand.

I mean, by palp.

Part of the limb may snap off

to be left inside.

Ah love, For this glorious moment,

he's ready to give an arm and a leg.

Now the female lays her eggs.

She secures over

Not one to put all

her eggs in one basket,

she'll eventually spin about five.

In only two weeks,

a thousand new spiderlings

will invade my yard.

Black widows may have

colonized my shed...

but I was more worried

about what was going on outside.

I was prepared to fight the good fight

with chemical warfare.

As I was saying,

I had no idea the enemy

was living in my armory.

It was bad enough outside.

My stems were being sucked!

My leaves lacerated!

My petals perforated!

It was more than a man could bear!

Who could blame me

if I practiced tough love?

Smells like... victory.

But I was no winner.

My insecticide, long expired,

had all the kick of a Shirley Temple:

And just as well, because the mantis

loves to munch on the munchers

I was trying to murder.

The way things were going,

I didn't have a prayer

of taming the savage garden.

I used to call 'em as I saw 'em.

When I saw 'em, if I knew

what they were called.

Trouble is, some of these

pesky little critters

were neither fish nor fowl.

Like the daddy-longlegs in my shed.

They're familiar and strange

at the same time.

But what are they?

Think it's a spider?

No.

Insect?

No.

They're called Opiliones

from the Latin meaning "aphid sucker."

Yeah!

Aphids are perfect suckers, really,

when it comes to my rose stems.

And a lot more than one is born

every minute at least in my backyard.

In fact, aphids can reproduce

without having sex!

There's one of nature's lousier ideas.

Daddy-longlegs

has arrived for the hunt!

Make that mommy-longlegs.

She has legs up to here!

Each is slender as a thread

and works partly by hydraulics.

She even hears, tastes,

and smells using her legs.

Reminds me of... never mind.

I now know there's a lot

to admire in this creature.

She has pretty good manners.

She chews her food before eating it,

granted, outside her mouth.

She sucks up the juices

through a flexible tube.

She also flosses after every meal.

I prefer unwaxed mint, myself.

Why are daddy-longlegs' legs long?

To keep their plump bodies

high above predators.

If that's not enough,

two legs put out a nasty smell

to discourage hunters.

But trust me:

If you can smell them,

you're too close.

The smelly legs also

have built-in seismographs.

And she's keeping her legs peeled

for approaching enemies.

Like the tiger beetle.

A killing machine.

An orthodontist's nightmare.

The beetle attacks

and grabs a leg.

It's a tug-of-war.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes