Recent tales of huntsmen continue with Peter Craig of Dulwich Hill, who says, “Huntsman spiders are impressively large and appear threatening to the uninitiated, but are essentially harmless to humans, and easy to catch and evict. I used not to bother catching them, until I had to deal with thousands of huntsman spiderlings hatched in my house.”
Ros Turkington of Rockdale had a relative “who saw a huntsman, opened the window, picked the spider in his fist and threw it out the neighbouring but closed window. The spider dropped and went who-knows-where, and the relative went to hospital. Luckily, he hadn’t cut any tendons or major blood vessels, but his hand was a sorry sight.”
Of course, things don’t always go the spider’s way. Bronwyn Horton of Balgownie remembers, “Years ago my husband ushered a huntsman from our lounge using a flyswatter and newspaper. He placed it carefully on the grass, only to see a spangled drongo (bird) swoop down and swallow it, thankful for an easy breakfast.”
Ned Snow of Lilyfield agrees, saying, “I have two tales of huntsman capture. In my pinnacle effort, I approached the spider with a glass, but it ran up to the ceiling. With a flash of inspiration (pun intended), I blew at it. It let go and I caught it in the glass and released it. The second time, alas, I threw the spider out the front door, only to have a currawong swoop down and take it.”
“A dear friend, in her seventies,” adds Marion Newall of Point Frederick, “lives on the edge of Braidwood. She keeps two pest-controlling huntsman spiders, in her kitchen and between her laundry and bathroom. House guests are advised of their location and to leave them to do their job in peace.”
Then, a quick dive back into parfait glasses (C8 last week). Helen Vaughan-Roberts of Noosaville (Qld) relates, “One Christmas our neighbour had made six knickerbocker glories for the guests and lined them up on the sideboard, only to find, when the time came, that their large ginger cat had licked the cream tops off all six. He actually went on to live a long life.”
But, Robyn Cashman of Fernhill (SA), laments, “They weren’t parfait glasses but dear little sherry glasses. I was lamenting that I was down to one, when my youngest son raced inside, and emerged waving, ‘No, Mum, there are two.’ A tinkle of glass – and there was one.”
Column8@smh.com.au
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