I went recycling the other night. It was an all-night adventure. When I arrived back at my camp, I figured I had raked in a solid 30 bucks in plastic and aluminum. I also found stuff. Stuff being that which I can imagine to have value and fits in my backpack.
I get back to camp with a hot cup of coffee and slide into my sleeping bag. This is the time I enjoy the most. With an endorphin high from a ridiculous amount of work, the light is on the horizon, and I get to see what modern people no longer want.
My backpack is the style that has a top flap, oldish. As I raise the flap, sitting there at the highest point, without being smashed, is a spider about a half inch wide and built like a tank. Like a mini tarantula. And draped through his mouth is another spider. A fresh kill. It reminded me of a lion with a gazelle hanging through its jaw. What is immediately astounding about this is that not only did the spider survive a fair amount of time being jostled around in my pack in the pitch dark, it pulled off a kill. But what impressed me the most was the fact that he was counting on eye contact and understanding of the situation at hand. That being, “Lay down the pack and I’ll be on my badass way with my badass kill.”
With all those eyes staring straight at me, the intent was clear. What I did was to lower the pack to the ground and flick him out like I was too lazy or stupid to allow it to happen. Tank dropped his kill and walked off into the brush. I think I hurt his leg, too.
I would not be surprised if the next person he encounters gets bitten. Sorry.