The last few days I have been working on a fairly large proposal for a project that I am involved with. It’s something I’ve been turning around in my head for a few months now, and I’ve finally reached the point where I need to sit down, collect my thoughts, and shape them into something coherent and presentable. Projects like this take a different kind of focus — not the quick, reactive thinking of fieldwork, but slow, careful, organized thought.
When I’m working on something highly detailed like this, one of my favorite places to set up is my screened-in porch, which looks out over the woods behind my home. I bring my laptop out, put on some quiet music, and let the sound of the birds and the rustle of the leaves help settle my mind. There’s something about being surrounded by nature — even when I’m not photographing it — that makes the thinking process feel a little calmer and more grounded.
At this point, you’re probably wondering what all of this has to do with jumping spiders.
Well, as you can imagine, there aren’t many insects that make it onto a screened-in porch. But the few that do inevitably fall victim to one of the jumping spiders that has decided the porch is their own private hunting ground. Each spider seems to have carved out a tiny territory, patrolling it with surprising confidence for creatures so small.
What amazes me is how quickly they’ve adapted to the environment. The jumping spiders seem to have “learned” that any insect unlucky enough to slip inside will exhaust itself by buzzing against the screen, unable to understand why it can’t escape. After enough frantic effort, the insect eventually falls to the floor, right into the waiting arms of a patient spider. It’s a remarkably efficient ambush strategy for something barely the size of a fingernail.
Here is a picture of one of my little distractions. This tiny guy is about the size of your pinky fingernail, yet full of personality if you take the time to look closely. I especially love the iridescence in the fly’s eye — a flash of colour that most people would never notice as they swat a fly away, but one that becomes a miniature marvel under the lens.
Nature has a way of showing up, even when I’m trying to focus on work. And sometimes, those small interruptions are exactly what I need.
Good Luck and Good Light!
Steve