Flushing out the Funnel

I was becoming suspicious of the perfectly round hole in the garden bed by my back porch. Having hosted a tiger snake in that bed for a couple of weeks during the hot weather, I knew it wasn’t his, he was way too big to fit down there. It was about 2 – 3cm in diameter, and after my son telling me of his close encounter of the eight-legged kind in what sounded like identical circumstances, the time had come to take action.

I’m usually a live and let live kind of person when it comes to creepy crawlies, but when they’re in the vicinity of the house that’s a whole other ball game. My solution went like clockwork. A dribble of petrol down the hole, I wasn’t sure if I was going to set light to it but I didn’t have to. Overcome by the fumes what immediately vacated the hole was not only a super-sized spider, but a rather ominous looking Tasmanian Funnel Web. I didn’t think quickly enough in the moment to get something like a matchbox to put next to it to indicate its size, but looking at my ruler today, and trying not to do the fisherman thing of making it sound bigger than it was, I reckon it would’ve been about 10cm round, including the legs that is.

I have to admit it wasn’t until about a year ago that I even knew Tasmania harboured this species. Thinking they were endemic to Sydney in particular, I had always made my visits to that fair city very brief, having seen one once at the bottom of someone else’s back porch steps, and never wanting to repeat the experience.

So today, on April Fool’s Day no less, there I was, staring Mr Funnel Web in the face, well not quite that close, and I was thankful for his groggy state courtesy of the petrol fumes. My determination to mark the occasion with proof dispelled any fear, and I moved him from the garden bed to the path where he seemed happy to pose for the camera and move about, no doubt somewhat puzzled as to why he’d been unceremoniously flushed out of his comfy hole.

And then I chopped him in half with the spade.

What? You thought there was going to be a happy ending?

Over the years my encounters with Huntsmans, White-tailed and Wolf spiders have had me convinced I’m on some sort of hit list because of my swift disposal of such intruders within the four walls of my fortress. A Huntsman in the car while you’re driving in peak hour traffic is not the time to get on good terms with arachnids, however fascinating they may be, and a very distinctive wolf spider web in your favourite armchair is a telltale sign the contract out on you is still very much alive.

Did this latest inhabitant bear me any ill will? Was he just biding his time at the bottom of the steps? Did he intend to mount those steps and explore more than the garden? Unfortunately for him, if there was the remotest possibility of such a scenario, he had to go. Funny thing is, I’ve seen those distinctive holes before, but now I know what lurks beneath, I won’t be so complacent.

Live and let die.