But I got a present from my wee little baby brother already. It was delivered yesterday, but then sat out on the icy cold back porch overnight, and Mary was a little concerned that it might have gotten damaged when she picked it up.
No worries.
It’s a cast iron spider, a species that does not mind sub-zero temperatures at all. I put it on a nice warm fluffy towel, though, just in case.
How about this for a title that might give you chills? Spiders Caught Hunting in Giant Synchronized Swarms. It certainly got me excited. I would like to have some of these swarms here.
You might feel differently, so I’ll put the photo below the fold. Rest assured, these are giant swarms of very small spiders.
Don’t worry, no photos of the pathetic creature here. Yesterday, I found one of my little friends in mid-molt — but there was a problem, and she had failed to extract her left legs, and so her limbs were immobilized and trapped in her old cuticle. I left her alone, hoping that today she’d have managed to complete the molt.
She didn’t.
I put her under the microscope, grabbed some watchmaker’s forceps, and delicately peeled away the stuff that had her legs bound. The operation was a success, in that all was removed without doing any further harm to the spider. But now her legs are deformed, and permanently, I think. They’re elongated, and locked together around the patella. She can’t move them. She drags herself around with her right legs, dragging the unmoving mass of the left with her.
I don’t think she’ll make it. This seems to be a common cause of mortality, general failures during molting. I’m suddenly grateful to have squishy stretchy skin that doesn’t need to be periodically replaced wholesale.
<shakes fist at sky> How could a benevolent deity allow such tragedies?
It’s not me. It’s Chrysilla volupe. It’s a spider, so it’s tucked below the fold so you don’t have to see it.
They are venomous, after all, some more than others.
The bite of the king baboon spider (which looks like a tarantula and lives primarily in Tanzania and Kenya) is not lethal, but it does produce a lot of pain in hapless victims. In this new effort to discover why, the researchers conducted a proteotranscriptomic analysis of the venom to identify possible peptides that they thought might be involved in producing pain. They identified one known as Pm1a (prior work has shown that it is typically involved in modulating dorsal root ganglion receptors in nerve cells.) They then synthesized the peptide to allow for NMR spectroscopy to ascertain its structure.
Next, they studied the impact of the peptide on mice by injecting a small amount into a toe. That allowed them to see that the peptide modulated ion channels and incited excitatory sodium currents. At the same time, it also reduced potassium currents that are typically involved in inhibiting excitatory currents. The end result was hyperexcitability in nerve cells, which, to the mouse, meant pain. To conclude their work, the researchers created a mathematical model of the peptide and its impact on nerve cells to further prove that it was the main driver of pain in victims of the spider’s bite.
The researchers also note that the hyperexcitability they saw in the mouse nerve cells very much resembled the type of hyperexcitability seen in people who experience chronic pain. They suggest that a better understanding of how spider venom can produce similar results could perhaps lead to a way to reduce pain in these patients.
I used to work down the hallway from a lab studying conotoxins. They’d collect the venom from cone snails, chemically separate its components, and then inject each fraction into a mouse to see what would happen. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes excruciating pain. Sometimes bleeding from the eyes. Sometimes they’d fall asleep. Sometimes they’d die instantly. It was fascinating stuff that yielded all kinds of interesting molecules with useful neurological effects. But you had to sometimes wonder, who was the monster? The organism that produced the venoms, who lived in a place these mice would never encounter, or the investigator who imported the toxins and afflicted them on hordes of mice, for the betterment of humankind?
Besides, the King Baboon spider has such a cute and adorable face. (No, no, no, arachnophobes. Don’t click through.)
I have been discovering that many people seem to have a weird perspective on spiders. They’re just animals, you know. They do the same stuff that squirrels or cats or lizards do: they eat, they drink, they court, and are entirely mundane in their behaviors. I’ve noticed, for instance, that one of the things that interested people was seeing that they drink! They have a heartbeat! I’m sure that even a moment’s thought would have made them figure out that of course they do…but we don’t usually think of spiders that way.
So here’s a story about a spider slurping up water and using it to rehydrate the dessicated bodies of their prey. Groovy. Spiders are clever enough to make instant bug soup.
One night in late December 2020, John Gould—a behavioral biologist at the University of Newcastle in Australia—was on Kooragang Island in southeastern Australia, surveying the area for a threatened frog species. Near an ephemeral pool, he spotted a long-jawed orb weaver spider (Tetragnatha) suspended in a web anchored in some vegetation. About two minutes later, Gould watched the arachnid suddenly “bungee” down to the pond’s surface, retrieve a large globule of water in its jaws, and race back up the silk line in a matter of seconds.
As soon as the spider ascended to its web with the liquid cargo, Gould knew he “had observed something really peculiar.”
He watched as the spider returned its jaws to a shriveled, partly drained insect it had been feeding on, droplet and all. The first-of-their-kind observations were published in the journal Ethology in January.
Just yesterday I was feeding my spiders and watched as one bungee-jumped down and scooped up a fly to haul back into its home cobweb. Clever girl. It was impressive how agile and adept it was, but that’s simply its nature.
Oh, also, tetragnathids are cool. They’re common, one of the more common spiders I see around here, but also diverse, with a lot of species I can’t distinguish. They make gorgeous orb webs, the classic kind with radials and spiral fibers, and they’re distinctive, with skinny, elongate bodies and huge jaws.
Now I’m pining for spring, when the tetragnathids will be back decorating the shrubbery in my yard. Until then, here’s a photo below the fold — arachnophobes, don’t click through!
I practiced rendering spiders unconscious today. It’s surprisingly easy.
I spent my morning trying to convince some spiders to mate. It didn’t go well. I wrote it up for my Patreon.
No spider photos, if you don’t like that, and I made it publicly readable, so check it out.
Besides washing glassware, I took a little time to experiment with video microscopy today. I didn’t get great results, but I’ll keep working on it.
The water in the science building was restored the other day, but yesterday when I used the faucet nothing but rusty brown horrible water was coming out of it. I’m going in today and will flush the pipes in my lab for a while, and then, at last, I will get to use my glorious new bottle brush to wash all the glassware. I am so excited! Wouldn’t you be? Doing the dishes, making everything all shiny, getting all the clutter put away…this is exactly why I got a Ph.D.
I’ll also be able to indulge in some spider therapy. You people don’t know what you’re missing by not spending time with a whole lot of eyes and twitching legs and fanged bodies walking the tightrope of an intricate web. You’re all invited to come on over (as long as you’re masked and vaccinated) and take in the restful spectacle. Maybe you can wash a bottle or two while you’re here?
