Photo of a cellar spider molting by Richard Heeks
Through what invisible mechanism, on what inaudible frequency, and in what imperceptible realm is it communicated to the tiniest cellar spider, herself seemingly made entirely of breath and a few wisps of baby hair, that the house plants have developed a fungus gnat infestation?
Where was she before, when there were no gnats (or, to my knowledge, any other bugs at all) to fuel her in here?
And wherever she was, how did she learn of the gnats' sudden presence so that she knew to place her tiny cough of a cobweb in the corner by the plants?
These mysteries enchant and bewilder me.
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