There's a tiny ambush hunter hanging in a
dark corner of my bathroom. Each of her eight legs holds a
different strand, waiting for vibrations. What superb patience
she must have! Imagine first her long disciplined activity while
weaving that intricate trap followed in turn by her death-like
immobility while waiting for a victim to bring her next meal. How
long will she wait? I see no insect candidates anywhere. What
gives her faith that she has chosen a good location? Would she
ever reconsider that choice? What could she possibly be thinking
of as she passes the time? Does she not feel boredom? Does she
not grow hungry? Does she not become anxious? Her metabolic rate
must be nearly zero to succeed in such a strategy, and yet she
must react quickly when the opportunity appears.
I get hungry all the time. I get impatient
watching the microwave oven tick down. I feel imposed upon
waiting even one minute for a traffic light to turn green. I get
bored quickly and depend on various electronics to offer
distractions and fill the silence in my apartment.
I definitely don’t have what it takes
to be an ambush hunter.
quote and format by Raxin