As you can see, they are the epitome of a yucky, hairy,
multiple eyed and scary legged spider. And yes, I will declare my interests
here and acknowledge that I am a fully signed up member of the Harpists Society
of Arachnophobes.
Now the thing with huntsmen is that they won’t hurt you.
They don’t usually bite. Having said that, one did bite my mother once, though
admittedly she sat on it so there were extenuating circumstances.
However they have a habit of hiding flat in all sorts of
places and then once discovered move like grease lightning. This makes the
whole spider squashing experience unpredictable and especially nerve wracking.
For this reason alone I would rather take on a poisonous red back or white tail
because generally all they do is sit there and wait to get squashed.
On one sunny and otherwise perfect autumnal day I was making
my way out to the Yarra Valley for a wedding. I love going out to that part of
the world and was happily soaking up the pastoral atmosphere of gourmet
eateries and award winning vineyards. My destination lay down an unmade road,
reasonably common to the area, so I bumped my way along the dirt and stones
without much ado.
Unfortunately, just short of the venue, a large and rather
active huntsman climbed out of the casing surrounding the driver’s side wing
mirror. Obviously disturbed by the rough ride it then proceeded to scurry
around the outside of the car looking for another hiding spot. This was, as you
might imagine, a little distracting, even though I knew full well the wretched
thing was on the outside of the car.
As I pulled up outside the wedding chapel it was spread
eagled on the driver’s side window. Right next to my face. When the car
stopped, it decided to stop too. And so began the impasse. There was no way I
was opening the door and getting out of the car while that speedy spider lay
waiting on the outside. It almost goes without saying that its full and obvious
intent was to physically attack me as soon as an opportunity presented itself.
And my full and obvious intent was to attack it. Preferably with a weapon
sporting some kind of nuclear capacity.
And so we sat there. And sat there.
Time was ticking on. I really should have been unloading the
harp at that stage in preparation for the nuptials to come. But there was no
way I was getting out of the car. Not while that thing remained on the outside.
In desperation I started the engine again and began to drive
around a little more on the gravel in an attempt to somehow shake the beast
off. But instead it climbed onto the windscreen. ‘Aha!’ I thought and switched
on the wipers, thinking it would be flicked off into the wide blue horizon. But
no. It was simply shunted along a bit, and then ran back to the driver’s side
door. And this time disappeared below the window.
Now I was truly stuck. I knew it was out there but I had no idea
where. And it was unmistakably time to be getting set up for the wedding.
I pulled up again outside the chapel and screwed my courage
to the sticking place. I also banged loudly on the inside of the door which I
‘m sure did something though I’m not sure what. And finally there was nothing
for it.
I opened the door.
I looked very carefully all around the trim of the door
which is just the sort of place a huntsman likes to hide. I made especially
certain it wasn’t going to be above my head and drop down onto me as I exited.
With breath held and heartbeat racing I got out of the car. I slowly stood up.
Something tickled the top of my head. And I will admit it. I squealed.
It was an overhanging branch from a tree.
There was no sign of the huntsman. I looked all over the
outside of the car. I bent down and looked under the car. I smiled at the groom
who was wondering what this strange squealing woman was doing at his wedding. I
couldn’t see the spider. And to this day I haven’t found it. But I still feel
its lurking presence waiting to leap out at me when the time is right. And this
I do not like. I do not like at all.
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