ITSY BITSY SPIDER

In my backyard, nestled into the upward slope and framed by a low lying wall there is a waterfall/pond feature.  The pond itself has a shape curiously similar to that of Stewie's head from Family Guy and is home to some Koi and goldfish, a small dark colored fish I am told is related to a Piranha, an occasional tadpole and a humongous Crayfish. The pond is fed from a two tiered waterfall that sends sheets of excitable H2O cascading and dancing over the rock lined spillway, climaxing in a violent and unrelenting collision with the placid waters of the pond below.  Green ferns adorn both sides provide a softening visual effect, sending their tentacles over the rocks toward the water in search of nourishment. 

On the rocks to the right, just off the water's edge sits a ceramic barefoot boy, a Huck Finn look alike wearing only suspenders and a straw hat. He sits perfectly still with fishing pole in hand and a line in the water, patiently waiting for whatever may come his way yet unconcerned either way…He's just fishin. A painted concrete turtle patrols the top of the low lying retaining wall that meanders the pond's perimeter. His posture is steadfast and reliable. The inward tilt of his head, coupled with his facial expression lends his purpose to that of a concerned parent. Across the pond to the left sits a metal Praying Mantis, balancing precipitously over the waters edge. Mr. Mantis was originally brought into the pond family to deter would be predators; however, they did not take him seriously and he failed miserably, only to be redeemed in fine fashion by allowing his antennas to serve as a look out perch for Dragon Flies.  

 

In the early morning hours it is the small birds who come along to bath their wings in the shallow waters in the first pool of the spillway. Hummingbirds float directly in front of the water like miniature helicopters, pecking little sips of thirst quenching water to hydrate their hyper charged engines. later the Dragon Fly will arrive, taking up his predatory perch on the Praying Mantis. He is not intimidated by my presence in the least, allowing me to stick a camera lens right in his face to snap a picture that later, when zoomed upon, exposed the truly gruesome appearance of this flying monster.

 

Every few years a Raccoon or two will discover this fishing paradise and make my life miserable for awhile. They work the graveyard shift and I don't. Blue Herons and Snowy Egrets occasionally discover this potential sushi bar in my backyard and the ensuing game of cat and mouse between us provides comical entertainment for my neighbors. Every other year or so frogs will come use my pond to procreate and I am treated to a temporary tadpole show. They are not around long and they don't return as often as I would like, so I enjoy them when while I have them. 

 

I find balance here. The sound of moving water energizes my spirit, while calming my soul. It smooths out the wrinkles in my emotional state and injects order into my thought stream. Everyone from athletic performance experts to religious gurus have a name to describe this feeling/condition. This backyard envirotherpay puts me at peace and provokes me to consider the larger issues. Someone once tried to convince me that my attraction to water environments was a clear indicator that I had a pleasurable womb experience. I guess a big THANK YOU MOM! is in order then.  I can't adequately describe it any more clearly then to say I simply feel right when I am out there and the serenity I experience is enhanced by the magical qualities that this ecosystem brings together in a celebration of life. But life can take on a whole different meaning when viewed through an entirely different set of eyeballs.  

Over the past few days I have been witness an unbelievable  engineering spectacle that has been unfolding before my eyes.  A very small spider that I have seen but once has been constructing a web of unimaginable beauty. Strewn between three large rocks at the bottom of the waterfall and roughly the size of a tennis racket, this web has grown in size each day with the addition of approximately two perfectly spaced and exactly angled strand columns. It is a magnificent testament to the instinctual capabilities and tenacious work effort of this tiny Arachnid. And as I gazed admiringly at this mighty spiders architectural progress, I could sense the impending dichotomy sending a dark cloud over my watery paradise.  Death was coming. 

This tugged a bit at my backyard feng shui. Could I continue to allow myself to repair in harmonious splendor, bathed in the aura of life's great wonders while a serial killer set up a death trap just feet away? Was this spider's actions and intentions any different than the Snowy Egret or the bandit raccoon? Should I then disregard the amazing skill and effort by the spider and destroy his web? The spider's victims would be no less dead then the others had they succeeded and although the spider was not going after my possessions per se, should I make a decision with life and death implications based solely on whether one of my personal possessions is involved? It could be argued that the Egret and the Raccoon are expert craftsman in their own right, and but for the sole reason that the web they lay is not visible as a work of art, should they not be afforded all or none of the consideration that I contemplate for the spider?

Which brings me to my dilemma. Can I arbitrarily interfere with the forces of life and death in my pond environment, deciding the winners and loser according to my selfish concerns and still enjoy the balance I most desperately enjoy? Was I missing the bigger picture here?  Is it possible to separate death from a balanced life? Can I really find legitimate balance in my backyard water world  if I am interfering with another creatures balance? Eliminating one spider web in one backyard of millions does not a solution make. Art can be found in the process of death just as with life and far be it from me to tinker with natures grand schemes.  

This Itsy Bitsy spider was building a life that I interpreted as death. And looking through the lens of that spider's life eyes made my pond all the more alive.