We underestimate the effective jumping distance of spiders. Shiny web strings give account of where a spider has been, putting his travels from point A to point B on tangible display. Our trees are now interconnected by long, flimsy lines that coast in the wind, spanning long from branch to distant branch. How do spiders do this? Can they fly? Or do they tie one end up on a branch, climb down the tree, make the journey across the back yard, climb up the other tree and tighten it down with some kind of web turnbuckle, wiping his spider hands after a job well done?

Well done indeed, tenacious spider.

And now spider waits, hoping to trap delicious flying insects and keep the food chain intact. You’ll get no judgement here, spider friend. I get hungry all the time. But not for bugs.

I wonder if tying webs from limb to limb signals the trees to start releasing their leaves to the ground? If so, the timing is no advantage to the spider, since his cross-yard stitching will occasionally trap a tiny leaf, making it seem as if autumn foliage is able to defy gravity. Do flying prey see a floating leaf and think “oh, don’t fly there?” Obviously not, since spider keeps eating.

Autumn is so nice. Until you walk into one of those webs.

Didn’t you see the floating leaf, dude?