We've all seen them.
They hang, fluttering in the air apparently suspended in space but not time. They dance and swing with each subtle breeze and amazingly withstand umbrella destroying gusts.Usually we're in such a hurry they obtain merely a passing glance of wonderment and off we go. Maybe we'll stand and watch for a few seconds or join in the squealing delight of some preteen discovering "the magical natural world" for the first time.
If you keep watching for these little happenings, you'll soon discover all sorts of debris hanging seemingly effortlessly from the sky. Leaves, tiny sticks, flower petals, bits of anything really.
So, why are they just...hanging there?
I did find out. Withstanding the urge to rush on to the next thing, I shut the car door and looked at the leaf dangling in the driveway next to the pine tree. The usual dance ensued but because I was determined to stay put for a time, I also noticed the thread it was hanging from. Obviously it was a spider web bit. But where was the spider web?
I looked around the leaf, assuming it had caught on one of the strands of the web and pulled it down and was now hanging on for dear life to that strand while it pranced in my driveway. I looked again. No web.
The faint memory of looking for aboriginal hand prints in an Australian overhang cave came to mind. I had stood there for 45 minutes close to dusk in eye popping strain trying to see the "sacred hand prints". Nothing. Dusk was easing toward "okay, time to go or you won't find the car" when I spotted them. THOUSANDS OF THEM. That weird optical illusion thing of "can see the forest for the trees" had finally kicked in. I stood in rapt awe for 2 minutes and then bolted for the car...I was 42 miles outside Alice Springs in January in the Australian bush. I could mummify out here before someone would find me.
It must be the same thing with the spider web. So I kept looking.
A good 12 feet above the leaf, high up in the pine tree was the web. OK, now it's getting weird. You mean that leaf hit the web, caught a strand and stretched it out 12 feet?
Since that was not a working hypothesis, the only other option was the spider put it there intentionally to counter weight the web against high winds.
Seemed to make sense but not really worth much unless I found another web. I did. Again, and again and again and again. It was consistently the same result. Between 3-15 feet above "the magic leaf" there was a spider web with one, long extra strand holding "the magic leaf" or debris as it swung in the air. Who knew. spiders really are engineers!
So, tell me about your "magic leaf" experiences. Do you agree with me? What does an Aracnaphile think about this idea? (Is that a real thing? There's the folks who study them Aracnologist, but I'm talking about those who looooove them).
I'd definitely be interested to hear your thoughts on this.
