Dangerous Creatures - Part 1
Perilous encounters in the wild far from home
It was already hot and humid that first morning in the rainforest as I banged my way into the bathroom stall and sat down to do my business. I had the place all to myself. Or so I thought.
I was staying in an eco-lodge in the heart of the Daintree rainforest north of Cairns, not far from Australia’s Great Barrier Reef—a place renowned for its sharks, stingrays, sea turtles (above), and myriad other dangerous creatures of the deep.
This story isn’t about them, fortunately. I caught sight of many of those perilous creatures while snorkelling on the reef, but had no terrifying encounters to speak of, not even any moments of discomfort. The critters maintained a respectful distance and kept a jaundiced eye on us, as if our group of snorkellers was a pesky pack of rambunctious pre-schoolers who couldn’t be trusted to keep ourselves under control. Like they were the responsible adults in the ‘room’.
Scary is the night
No, the scary things actually happened at the eco-lodge. My accommodation there was a small room perched on stilts over the rainforest floor. It couldn’t have been more eco, with all the sights, sounds, and smells of nature seeping into the room and the nearest humans—and facilities—somewhere out there in the consuming forest darkness. I hadn’t felt alone and vulnerable on my travels around Australia until arriving at this place. If you wanted to find God or the heart of darkness, this was probably the place to do it. (Although for a spiritual experience, Uluru and Kings Canyon in central Australia, home to Aborigines for over 20,000 years, are what I would recommend, even with all the tourists.)
My first night in the rainforest, groggy from the tropical heat and a sumptuous meal, and with no real entertainment to speak of except a book, I should have dropped straight off to sleep. What no one had thought to warn me about, however, is that night-time is when the rainforest comes jarringly alive and assaults the senses with a cacophony of strange and often alarming sounds. Things began skittering and crashing around in the underbrush beneath me. I’m talking constant skittering in many directions by who knows how many creatures. An array of unfamiliar, almost primeval noises from god knows where pierced the air in staccato jolts and sent goosebumps traveling up and down my arms.
I cocooned in my bed—I don’t want to say cowered because that sounds wimpy—and cursed the wildlife for being so noisy, the staff for not warning me, and myself for thinking that coming to the rainforest on my own was some sort of bright idea. No other structure was visible from my isolated little room-on-stilts, the rainforest encroaching menacingly on all sides. You could easily imagine being the last human on earth, at the complete mercy of the elements, and with no one to rescue you should the creatures decide to band together and do you in and feast on your tasty organs. The creatures here in the rainforest didn’t have that adult vibe I’d felt in the ocean. They seemed more rambunctious and teenager-ish. Lacking in self-control. Ready to experiment with new things, like eating humans.
Forget even thinking about leaving the room to, say, relieve myself. Where is a frickin’ jar or bottle when you need one?
Private eyes are watching you
It was the inability to get to sleep that first night which probably explains why I was so slow to notice something strange on the floor of the bathroom stall the next morning. I must have been sitting there on the throne for several minutes, mulling over plans for the day, before my eyes finally traveled down to the area at my feet and did a double-take at some unidentifiable stuff lying there. I’m a little near-sighted, so I leaned forward to get a closer look. What are those things?
They weren’t moving. That was good. They looked like pieces of something. Are those arms and legs and antennae and other body parts? Some creature must have had a tasty meal but got scared off before they could finish it. Maybe I was the one who scared it off. But what a weird place to eat, and why did there seem to be a bunch of unmatching arms and legs in a range of shapes and sizes? This wasn’t a single meal. This was the leftovers from many meals.
I don’t know why, instinct maybe, but I looked up, and there on the ceiling right above my head, staring down at me with dark, brooding eyes, was a massive spider. We’re talking huge—as big as a man’s hand—with hairy arms and legs, an even hairier body, and massive jaws. Your basic arachnid nightmare.
Or at least that’s how I remember him. Did I mention he seemed to be staring at me with dark, brooding, assessing eyes? Like that guy in the photo below, but upside down (which is even scarier).
“You don’t belong in these here parts”
I had no clue what kind he was, but this was Australia, land of ten zillion creepie crawlies, many of them poisonous. This big daddy could probably kill me, easy peasy, and add me to his collection of arms and legs on the bathroom floor.
Still, the thing to know is that, unlike most people, I’ve always liked daddy long-legs and your common household spiders. I should work for NASA, because it appears that they do too. They’ve sent spiders into space, officially calling them “arachnauts” and studying how gravity and light affect their ability to make delicate, ephemeral, and yet astoundingly effective webs.
NASA has also tested the effects of various substances—caffeine, pot, a stimulant (Benzedrine), and a sedative (chloral hydrate)—on spiders’ web-making ability, discovering that all four substances have dramatic effects. You can find the striking —and let’s admit it, rather hilarious—images below. (The original results are reported here on p.82, if you’re one of those people who gets their jollies reading NASA technical bulletins.)
I think we could have saved NASA the time, money, and effort doing those experiments, couldn’t we? Of course spiders will get wired, high, psychotic, and sleepy on those substances. The truly important question in my view is, do we really need hyperactive or murderous spiders running around? Let’s hope NASA didn’t share their findings with any evil scientists, who no doubt would think the answer is yes, let’s make spiders into soldiers of war. Bad idea, really, because spiders aren’t into forming a band of brothers, being one of nature’s premiere misanthropes and mavericks, and also being masters at disappearing into walls and cracks where you can’t get at them. They’d always be going AWOL on their spider platoon, is my best argument on the matter.
But, hey, I digress as usual. The bottom line here is that spiders are inordinately smart and cool. Not to mention that I’m one of those people who talk to spiders and remove them from the shower stall so they don’t perish when I turn on the water. Many a spider have I moved to safety. Many a web have I left undisturbed so the spider can ply their insect-catching trade and keep the world safe from mosquitos and other blood-sucking eejits. Spiders are good dudes, as long as they don’t bite you. And why would they if you don’t threaten them or accidentally bump into them in the wrong place at the wrong time? (Like when they’re grumpy. See below for what female spiders do to male spiders when they’re grumpy. Human males have it so easy compared to their spider counterparts. )
Now, back to our story and the scene of the crime, the toilet cubicle. “Oh, hello there,” I said to the arachnid staring down at me, trying to stay calm as I concluded my business as fast as possible without making any jerky, eye-catching movements. “I see you’ve been eating,” I babbled on. “I hope it was delicious. I’ve had some excellent meals here myself.” It was true: the eco-lodge had a chic open-air dining room and served delicious food. Perchance the spider had even dined there himself.
I leaned to the side just in case he spied the remains of his meals, decided he was still hungry, and made a swift descent in my direction. Or in case he lost his footing and plunged from the ceiling. How do you extract a massive spider from your hair without getting a poisonous or painful bite? I wasn’t terribly keen to find out.
I managed to avoid stepping on the arms and legs and other body parts on the floor as I pulled up my shorts, flushed the toilet, and rushed out of the stall. (Btw, I can’t not flush the toilet, even with a poisonous spider threatening my life. Imagine what people would say if they found me sprawled dead over a dirty toilet.)
Although I do like spiders, I have to admit, I wasn’t able to take a proper breath until I made it out of that bathroom stall. I turned and stared at the spider. Yep, that was one big spider boy, that was. And no question about it. That big daddy was still staring back at me with god knows what type of intent.
Checking up on Big Daddy
A couple of hours later, I returned to the bathroom to do some more business and see if Mister Spider was still hanging out. He was there, in the exact same spot, but now the stall was sealed shut and there was a big hand-written sign on the door. “Spider! Do not use!”
It appeared that this fellow was a dangerous dude after all, or at least capable of delivering a very nasty bite if anyone got too close. Maybe the eco-lodge thought guests might freak out if they looked up and saw this huge, hairy-legged spider on the ceiling right over their heads, and even more alarmed when they saw his meal remains strewn around the floor. Or maybe being an eco-lodge they were trying to protect Mr. Spider from the shoe of a freaked-out guest. Especially some guy with size 23 feet.
Whatever the case, this particular story has a happy ending as the spider hadn’t given me a heart attack or done me any real harm. In fact, I still get flooded with warm feelings when I think about that big daddy spider. He made that visit special, and he gave me a great story to share back home. It wasn’t like he was skittering about keeping me awake at night. He was just trying to get some proper nutrition into his hairy little body. Keeping it attractive for the lady spiders. (Spiders are not monogamous, and female spiders are known to eat amorous males when they feel cranky. So looking too good to eat, but attractive enough to get it on, is very important for the male spider wooing a lady late at night before last call.)
And, by the way, one last fascinating spider factoid before I let you go, which I guarantee will also give you a giggle. NASA chose four female spiders for its second space experiment, with two staying on earth and two sent to the International Space Station. Lo and behold, the experiment was put into jeopardy when the NASA scientists discovered that two of the spiders were not females but actually males, who are significantly different from their female counterparts in body size and structure (not to mention appetite, with the males eating all the Doritos and drinking all the beer). Apparently it’s difficult when you’re recruiting juvenile spiders to tell the difference, and by the time you get them to their stations, they’re full-fledged adults. It must have been a hallelujah moment and a huge sigh of relief when they realized that they had a male and female in each location and could go ahead with the experiment. I’m sure they must have also cautioned the spiders against abandoning their spider-weaving duties to make googly eyes and flirt with one another through the windows of their “space flight certified habitats.” Really, you can’t make this NASA stuff up.
Just when you thought it was safe
I hope you enjoyed imagining arachnauts flirting in the International Space Station, but let’s conclude this post by returning to life at the rainforest eco-lodge. (Stop distracting me with your need for fascinating factoids.)
It turned out that, in the end, the bigger danger for me at the eco-lodge was not Big Daddy Spider, nor was it the things skittering in the night and making those godawful primeval noises.
No, the bigger danger for me and other humans was something wandering around the rainforest and prowling down the paths and roads surrounding the eco-lodge. Something you find nowhere else in Australia except in that rainforest, and nowhere else in the world except in the rainforests of a few nearby island groups—New Guinea and the Aru Islands.
I’m talking about the cassowary (below)—considered the most dangerous bird on the planet. Stay tuned for part 2 of Dangerous Creatures. (Hit the Subscribe button if you want to make sure it’s sent straight to your Inbox.) Until next time.
