The Web

hold her?'

'I guess.'

'A new friend, Gina.' As if understanding, the spider stopped. Moreland lifted it tenderly and placed it in Robin's palm.

It didn't budge, then it lifted its head and seemed to study her. Its mouth moved, an eerie lip sync.

'You're cute, Gina.'

'We can send one to your mother,' I said. 'For old times' sake.'

She laughed and the spider stopped again. Then, moving with mechanical precision, it walked to the edge of her palm and peered over the edge.

'Nothing down there but floor,' said Robin. 'Guess you'd like to go back to Daddy.'

Moreland removed it, stroked its belly, placed it back in its home, walked on.

Pulling out his doctor's penlight, he pointed out specimens.

Colorless spiders the size of ants. Spiders that looked like ants. A delicate green thing with translucent, lime-colored legs. A sticklike Australian hygropoda. ('Marvel of energy conservation. The slender build prevents it from overheating.') A huge-fanged arachnid whose brick-red carapace and lemon-yellow abdomen were so vivid they resembled costume jewelry. A Bornean jumper whose big black eyes and hairy face gave it the look of a wise old man.

'Look at this,' he said. 'I'm sure you've never seen a web like this.'

Pointing to a zigzag construction, like crimped paper.

'Argiope, an orb spinner. Custom-tailored to attract the bee it loves to eat. That central 'X' reflects ultraviolet light in a manner that brings the bees to it. All webs are highly specific, with incredible tensile strength. Many use several types of silk; many are pigmented with an eye toward particular prey. Most are modified daily to adapt to varying circumstances. Some are used as mating beds. All in all, a beautiful deceit.'

His hands flew and his head bobbed. With each sentence, he grew more animated. I knew I was anthropomorphizing, but the creatures seemed excited, too. Emerging from the shadows to show themselves.

Not the panic I'd heard before. Smooth, almost leisurely motions. A dance of mutual interest?

'… why I concentrate on predators,' Moreland was saying. 'Why I'm so concerned with keeping them fit.'

A brilliant pink, crablike thing rested atop his bony hand. 'Of course, natural predation is nothing new. Back in nineteen twenty-five, levuana moths threatened the entire coconut crop on Fiji. Tachinid parasites were brought in and they did the job beautifully. The following year, a particularly voracious destructor scale was done in by the coccinellid beetle. And I'm sure you know gardeners have used ladybugs on aphids for years. I breed them to protect my citrus trees, as a matter of fact.' He pointed to an aquarium that seemed to be red carpeted. A finger against the glass made the carpet move. Thousands of miniature Volkswagens, a ladybug traffic jam. 'So simple, so practical. But the key is keeping them nutritionally robust.'

We moved further up the row and he stopped and breathed deeply. 'If it weren't for public prejudice, this beauty and her compatriots could be trained to clear homes of rats.'

Shining the penlight into a dark tank, he revealed something half covered by leaves.

It crawled out slowly and my stomach lurched.

Three inches wide and more than twice that length, legs as thick as pencils, hairs as coarse as boar bristle. It remained inert as the light washed over it. Then it opened its mouth wide- yawning?- and stroked the orifice with clawlike pincers.

As Moreland undid the mesh I found myself stepping back. In went his hand; another pellet dangled.

Unlike the Australian wolf, this one took the food lazily, almost coyly.

'This is Emma and she's spoiled.' One of the spider's legs nudged his finger, rubbing it. 'This is the tarantula of B-movies, but she's really a Grammostola, from the Amazon. In her natural habitat, she eats small birds, lizards, mice, even venomous snakes, which she immobilizes, then crushes. Can you see the advantages for pest control?'

'Why doesn't she use her own venom?' I said.

'Most spider venom can't do harm except to very small prey. You can be sure spoiled Madame Emma wouldn't have the patience to wait for the toxin to take effect. Despite her apparent indolence, she's quite eager when she gets hungry. All wolves are; they got their name because they chase their prey down. I must confess they're my favorite. So bright. They quickly recognize individuals. And they respond to kindness. All tarantulae do. That's why your little Lycosa made such a good pet, Robin.'

Robin's eyes remained on the monster.

Moreland said, 'She likes you.'

'I sure hope so.'

'Oh yes, she definitely does. When she doesn't care for someone, she turns her head away- quite the debutante. Not that I bring people in here very often. They need their peace.'

He petted the huge spider, removed his hand, and covered the aquarium. 'Insects and arachnids are magnificent, structurally and functionally. I'm sure you've heard all the clichEs about how they're competing with us, will eventually drive us to extinction. Nonsense. Some species become quite successful but many others are fragile and don't survive. For years entomologists have been trying to figure out what leads to success. The popular academic model is Monomorium pharaonis-the common ant. Many tenures have been granted on studies of what makes Monomorium tick. The conventional wisdom is that there are three important criteria: resistance to dehydration, cooperative colonies with multiple fertile queens, and the ability to relocate the colony quickly and efficiently. But there are insects with those exact traits who fail and others, like the carpenter ant, who've done quite well despite having none of them.'

He shrugged.

'A puzzle.'

He resumed the tour, pointing out walking stick bugs, mantises with serrated jaws, giant Madagascar hissing cockroaches topped with chitinous armor, dung beetles rolling their fetid treasures like giant medicine balls, stout, black carrion beetles ('Imagine what they could do to solve the landfill problems you've got over on the mainland'). Tank after tank of crawling, climbing, darting, crackling, slithering things.

'I stay away from butterflies and moths. Too short-lived and they need flying room to be truly happy. All my guests adapt well to close quarters and many of them achieve amazing longevity- my Lycosa's ten years old, and some spiders live double or triple that amount… Am I boring you?'

'No,' said Robin. Her eyes were wide and it didn't seem like fear. 'They're all impressive, but Emma… her size.'

'Yes.' He walked quickly to a tank in the last row. Larger than the others, at least twenty gallons. Inside, several rocks formed a cave that shadowed a wood-chip floor.

'My brontosaurus,' he said. 'His ancestors probably did coexist with the dinosaurs.'

Pointing to what seemed to be an extension of the rock.

I stayed back, looking, steeling myself for another heart-stopping movement.

Nothing.

Then it was there. Without moving. Taking shape before my eyes:

What I'd thought to be a slab of rock was organic. Extending out of the cave.

Flat bodied, segmented. Like a braided brown leather whip.

Seven, eight inches long.

Legs on each segment.

Antennae as thick as cello strings.

Twitching antennae.

I moved further back, waiting for Moreland to play the pellet game.

He put his face up against the glass.

More slithered out of the cave.

At least a foot long. Spikes at the tail end quivered.