Sticks and stones...are less scary than spiders

Did you know that one of the most famous naturalists in existence, the legendary David Attenborough – who’s now most well known for his exceptional narration of wildlife documentaries – began his boyhood journey as an avid collector of natural specimens and objects?  I’m reminded of this often.  Especially when little madam insists on constantly picking up sticks, stones, gumnuts of many sizes, bark, leaves....you name it, she’s got it...to add to her growing collection of “the outdoors” which she stores in jars and boxes in her bedroom.  ‘Oh she’s just like David Attenborough’, mum tells me, when I screw up my face at yet another jar or margarine container filled with an array of sticks, stones, gumnuts and leaves collected from her walks down to the creek near her grandma and grandpa’s (who are known as Oma and Opa to Little Madam and Little Man).  I guess now, when I think about it, I should have been a little more grateful that she was excited about collecting inanimate objects. 

A collection similar to Little Madam's

You see, what began as an interest in collecting sticks and stones, has rapidly developed into a desire to collect anything Little Madam can get her hands on.  Even rather quick moving things such as beetles, bugs...and even spiders.  This desire began a short while ago, when she began coming home from her days spent with Oma and Opa with worms, small millipedes, or even those revolting grey Slater bugs housed in a margarine containers with pin pricks for air holes.  Then, as summer approached and the sounds of cicadas filled the air, she started finding – and collecting – cicada shells.  One here, one there.  She now has a whole jarful of them.  At least they’re not alive, I thought to myself, when the cicada shell collection started building.  That was until Little Madam scored her very first LIVE cicada a couple of weeks ago.  Unfortunately for this poor cicada, Little Madam quickly forgot about her LIVE catch.  And I was completely unaware that one of the two shells she’d brought home in an empty clear plastic – and very airtight container, was alive.  WAS being the operative word.  Poor cicada. 



Little Madam's growing collection of cicada shells

Anyway.  The fascination with cicadas continues.  To make up for the mishap, the other day Little Madam even rescued one from being drowned under a steady stream of water as I provided my thirsty vegetable garden with a much needed drink.  She carefully picked the poor soaked thing up and transferred it to a tree far away from my freshly watered vegetables.  I think it was rather grateful that it didn’t suffer the same fate as one of its long lost cousins.  The cousin that was (by accident) left inside the airtight plastic container.  Because the following day she found yet another empty shell to add to her collection right near the same tree.    

Anyway.  Enough about cicadas.  The eight-legged point of this story is yet to come.  You see, yesterday Little Madam and Little Man were enjoying a bounce on the trampoline, when she came running up to me and said “I’ve found Harry!  He’s on the trampoline.”  Now if you haven’t figured it out, Harry is the nickname we’ve given to any Huntsman spider who has decided to take refuge in our house at one time or another.  And to be honest, these spiders don’t bother me a whole lot.  Well when they’re at a safe distance from me that is....like on the ceiling of the bathroom or huddled on a cornice in the hallway.  No kidding.  I even tell myself they are even an excellent w ay to minimise fly populations inside the house. 

Now I know most people would be horrified at the thought of leaving a spider – especially a large, hairy Huntsman - to live peacefully on the ceiling inside your house.  After all.  There are those that do believe in that myth about swallowing at least 3 spiders in your lifetime.  But I’m not one of those people.  And to be honest, I’d simply rather leave them up high because removing them is always much harder than that.   

I was grateful, however, that after quickly catching sight of the Huntsman on the trampoline, Little Madam’s attempts to catch it were unsuccessful.  But this afternoon, when I arrived home from work, to find my dad (Little Madam and Little Man’s Opa) - who’d kindly brought the kids home so we could all head up to Little Madam’s kindergarten for her lovely end of year concert – Little Man and a very pleased Little Madam, who had in her hand another hole-covered margarine container.  ‘I found Harry, mum!’ she said excitedly, as she waved the container under my nose, then proceeded to remove the lid to show me the latest addition to her collection.  Now do you remember what I said about not being bothered by Huntsman’s...when they’re at a safe distance from me that is.  Well.  Let me tell you.  A margarine container with a rather eager to escape Huntsman being held close enough for me to see its beady eyes looking up at me was not, in my opinion, a safe distance.

The beady eyed Steven Mr Skinny Legs was a little too close for comfort

I hope tomorrow I can convince her to set it free.  After all, I don’t think I’m all that keen on the newest addition to Little Madam’s collection.  Even though she has come up with the rather cute nickname of ‘Steven, Mr Skinny Legs.’ 

Thanks, Little Madam, for getting me closer to nature than I’ve ever been before.  Love you!