[Trigger Warning: spiders]
At least this posting has no Sam Harris content. Oh, wait, I just added some Sam Harris content! Should I add a trigger warning? Ni!
This is the Happy Hunting Ground, at around 8am. The morning fog hasn’t cleared, obviously.
In the background you can see the outline of the run-in shed and the barn. Yes, the fence is terrible. The people who installed it (well before I got the farm) were from Arizona and didn’t understand what frost does to fence-posts, so none of the posts are in deep enough.
The hunters are everywhere.
Different types of spiders seem to inhabit different regions in the field. This is the orb weaver zone; further up the path are all horizontal cup-webs. I forget the kind of spiders that make those, but they don’t seem to interoperate. I suspect that the regional preference for different types of spider depends on who hatched best, and who ate whom.
Beautiful!
The fog makes everything so mystical. We only get it occasionally here, and those are magical days. Such a lovely web!
Too bad about the fence but it may not necessarily have been that they were from AZ. A lot of times people have this dream of moving to a farm and raising livestock of some sort, but many have absolutely no idea how to go about it, and don’t believe they need to learn. (It is quite refreshing when you run into someone who *does* want to learn.) One guy was _thrilled_ with the great price he had gotten on this gorgeous golden hay, when all the rest of us fools were paying such a high price for that green stuff! Yeah, bud, that’s called “straw” and has the nutritional content of chopped up cardboard boxes. Poor guy. LOL.
What a splendid web.
You have a healthy crop of Palmer’s amaranth there, AKA pigweed.
Tsu Dho Nimh@#4:
You have a healthy crop of Palmer’s amaranth there, AKA pigweed.
It runs the place!
Eerie.
Beautiful pictures.
There is a park in Sheffield where we used to walk Jazz that has a long slope of mown grass. On a few days a year, if you went when the sun was low in the sky, the slope would turn into a sheet of glistening silver ‘flowing’ down hill. It was the invidual threads of thousands and thousands of tiny spiders that had cast the threads up into the air to disperse and ended up landing on the slope, always with the threads ‘flowing’ downhill. It was in the days of film and I tried to photo it so many times but never managed to capture the effect.