The Spider Olympics

This little feller wasn't invited to compete in the high-wire gymnastics at the Olympics - probably due to unfair advantage. His type was born with extraordinary skills and an especially strong dose of pluck and courage built right in to his DNA.

The female St Andrews Cross Spider, common in gardens, is a model of sexual cannibalism. Tiny, almost invisible males sit on the outer edges of the great female's web, waiting for a chance to perform their amazing courtship routine. I was busy photographing the female when out of the corner of my eye, I saw this little guy rush in close to the female, cut a hole in her web and then build a tightrope of his own silk across the hole. Just when she was about to race over to finish him off, he started twanging his little heart out, hanging upside down and twirling a rhythm which stopped her in her tracks. While she paused in indecision, he swung off his tightrope, dove under her abdomen and quickly mated her. Furious, she tried to grab him but he got away, leaving only a couple of legs dangling in her clutches. 

However, he still had a contribution to make, so he recharged with sperm and started twanging again. Eventually, when he had only 4 legs left out of his original 8, he sat on the sidelines, exhausted but satisfied that he had produced an effort worthy of gold. 

How many Olympic athletes have such stamina to keep trying after several body parts have fallen off? And speaking of stamina, being a photographer willing to set up and record events of nature's Olympics deserves a medal or two - too.

Photographing Scary Things

Can you ever become a good nature and wildlife photographer if you don't love ALL of nature? Some subjects are easy - the beauty of colourful birds and the majesty of wild scenics draw us into their spell. The camera just magnetically pops into the hand to record these beautiful moments.

But how would you go if you had an assignment to photograph a collection of spiders? Personally, I found the job thrilling. You see, spiders have become my friends. My fascination started years ago when, on a trip to Queensland, I discovered the group of spiders called "araneomorphs". Each one is more intriguing, more sensationally beautiful than the last. There were the spiky jewel spiders, the amazing ant-mimics, and the cutest little jumping spiders who would raise their eyes to look at you. Once familiar with these "modern" types of spiders, it wasn't long before I found myself confronting the big baddies: the "mygalomorphs". These "ancient" spiders are those large, colourless, hairy things that live in holes in the ground. One assignment I did for Australian Geographic was on the Sydney Funnelweb, probably the world's deadliest spider, and I happily kept them at home in order to get ultra close up photos. (I won't tell you the story of the escapee, but my partner Nick was not happy.)

It's no wonder when this assignment from Australian Geographic came up, they thought of asking Esther, the spider wrangler, to carry it out. Would you be able to do this assignment? Do read the article in the current issue (July 2008) because it's all about confronting your fears and how spiders can help you do that. I do believe there is nothing ugly in nature. I've stopped seeing things as good or bad, ugly or beautiful. Spider or human, we all fit into nature's tapestry in our own unique way, part of a grand ecosystem.