Starting out from Brooklyn, an amateur naturalist explores our world. "The place to observe nature is where you are."—John Burroughs
This 2″-long orb-weaver has been hanging out here since August. The web, quite tattered, is as high and wide as half the window. The animal is remarkably inactive, positioned in the center of web for most of the day, although she will quickly retreat into a nook in the storm-window frame when feeling shy.
The mosquitoes are using another window.
The neighboring building looks plaid because of the screen I’m shooting through.
Harmonia axyridis, the Multi-colored Asian Lady Beetle, is known in the UK as the Harlequin Lady Beetle. “Harlequin” is a better common name than MALB, which is a mouthful and has a whiff of racial baggage to it, particularly when added to invasive. This one was one of two spotted in Denmark, the only lady bugs seen on this trip. 
The Swedes, meanwhile, really seem to like their spiders. There were many webbing the inn we stayed in. There were more than a few indoors. All fine with me. 
And here’s a neighbor in the Bronx, on a window-spanning web right in front of a fan blowing out. Has been hanging out for more than a month now. One of the biggest orb weavers I’ve ever seen, a good 2″ from toe to toe. 
Yellow-collared Scape Moth (Cisseps fulvicollis) back in Brooklyn. First time I’ve noticed the red tongue.
Outside.
Inside.
Appropriation of the unnatural: this fence post has been taken over by what I think is a sheet-web building grass spider of the genus Agelenopsis. Note the funnel descending into the post. That’s where she hangs out. 
I picked up a leaf and gently tapped the other end of the webbing, which brought her out alert and curious. About 1.25″ long.
A complex of webs connected to a seven-foot-long horizontal piece of spidersilk. 
Remarkable. A view from the side of the complex, showing another web, making for one large and three satellite webs.
The only spider in evidence was sucking on dinner.
Daddy-, or Granddaddy-longlegs… but wait a minute. There are only six legs here. The Opiliones order of harvestman are related to spiders and have eight legs. What’s going on? 
It looks like the first joint to the right of the face is missing a limb, so presumably is the other side. Missing that joint, too, it looks like. This one could still move pretty well, though. There are over 5000 species of these critters in the world, with 235 known in North America (these numbers from Evans, who pictures two of them; so many bugs, so little time!). They aren’t venomous, and don’t have fangs so they don’t bite. The dark nob on top is an eye. As I was getting the lens close, I felt another on my camera hand, smaller bodied and lighter colored. I blew gently on it to get it to reverse course.
Walking Stick on Peter’s bins. Texas has at least 16 species. 
Leaf-cutter ant (Atta texana) highway. The ants are returning to their sprawling underground colonies with leaf fragments, which, farmer-like, they feed to the fungus they actually eat.
Thornbush Dasher (Micrathyria hagenii).
Band-winged Dragonlet (Erythrodiplax umbrata).
Antlion. This is the adult stage.
We saw many antlion traps, where buried nymphs wait for their lunch to fall down into the soft sand pits. 
Large Carpenter bee of some kind in the bottlebrush. 
Texan Crescents (Anthanassa texana) perpetuating the species.
I think this is a male Arizona Desert Tarantula (Aphonopelma chalcodes), also known as Arizona Blond Tarantula because of the female’s coloring. Our intrepid, and hawk-eyed, guide Jake swerved the van out of the way and then backed up to coax this spider onto his hand. And then, up his wrist.
The males wander over a wide range searching for females this time of year, usually at night. The reddish hairs on the abdomen are urticating, that is stinging, so no petting. The bite is no worse than a bee sting. But according to the American Tarantula Society (well, obviously!) the things are harmless. I hadn’t read that when Jake offered up a chance a to hold this guy. There were various “no thank yous,” from my van mates but I proffered my hand… cautiously, but
eagerly.
We interrupt this progression of posts on the faraway sublime to bring you a bit of sublime closer at home.
I was breaking down a head of broccoli and had gotten to the best part, the stem, which unfortunately was hollowed out by rot, when this one scootled across the chopping block for the cover of cleaver on its side. What the hell, I thought, good luck, spider. Later, though, it started up the wall and looked out of place so I captured it and released it into the Back 40.
Back to the great Southwest tomorrow.
Fiddler crabs in the tiny patch of ever-so-green right now salt marsh at Pier One. On the jumbly rocks next to it, a number of these spiders:
I have returned from a two week trip abroad. I have a new computer. I am ready to blog again.
A young New World Robin, SO different from the Old World ones, as pictured yesterday.
Backyard and Beyond 