The Spider And the Fly

Sitting on the balcony in mid Springtime, I noticed the new leaves on the previously winter bare branches of a 40-foot white cedar tree swaying back and forth, round and round, and up and down with the springtime breezes. I begin slapping away at the tiny, almost invisible, creatures that come out in the spring before the sun gets too hot biting at my feet and ankles. Winter is gone and little crawlers are finding places in the corners and in the shadows in the night waiting for something edible to happen by. Nature is writhing to the rhythmic warmth of spring.

I happened upon red and yellow sun rays shining on a single almost transparent strand of a spider's wed crossing the length of green vertical bars of the balcony railing. The wind was moving slightly vigorously and I wondered how is it that the web isn't breaking. As the wind rose and fell, the spider's silk would rise and fall with it. The sunshine changed the color of the flying web into reds and yellows and iridescent colors but it flew very close to the railing.

It was obvious that a spider was hiding and patiently waiting for something to get caught in its web.

I sat there watching the web dancing in the wind and noticed a small fly perched on one of the railings moving to the motion of the silk as the wind changed directions. I wondered if the fly knew that it was looking at a trap. I thought perhaps this fly had some experience removing insects from the spider's web and planned to easily pick the prey from the wed and had no fear of the waiting spider.

The Poem, "The Spider and the Fly" by Mary Howitt came to mind, although I've never actually read it. So, I was fixated on the silk and the fly. But let's get back to the fly and the strand of silk.

Sadly, the fly will rush into the web after the struggling insect, find itself hopelessly entangled in the web along with its dinner, and begin its hopeless struggle, becoming completely encased in silk and unable to free itself, while the spider slowly creeps into the battle and entangles them both in its fluorescent, luminescent dinner bell.

The web was for the fly all along and never for tiny insects.

Mary Howitt's poem is about something else entirely and I won't spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it. In fact, her poem should be required reading for all young people capable of reading and understanding.