Meg is back
On the 9th day, I saw a familiar face staring at me from the bamboo fence.
After Meg sealed herself in a petal cocoon, I made a daily pilgrimage to check on her silky suite and make sure that it was still intact. I tried to peek inside, being careful to avoid any accidental contact with the plant. I was apprehensive for all the things that could go wrong during the molt: not enough humidity, too much humidity, predators… Fortunately, Betty (a common house spider) has her lair on the opposite side of Spider Alley, and she's not one to go hunting around.
For more than a week, all was still. The cocoon remained intact, and the excellent drainage testified to Meg’s structural design skills.
But on the 9th day, as I slid past the Rose of Sharon into Spider Alley, I saw a familiar face, staring at me from the bamboo fence.

It was Meg! She had done it!

Wait, how can I be so sure it was Meg? Well, I only have circumstantial evidence, but here it is: first of all, she was right by the flower cocoon; second, she looked bigger (like one of my fingernails), although just as adorable as before.
Lastly, she was… fluffy, her hair-like scales fresh from the molt. The "fuzz" almost created a halo around her. Basically a puppy.

She must be Meg. I recognized her… But did she see me? And how did she see me?
There was no doubt that she saw me. She looked at me, and oriented herself to me, in the familiar way of vertebrates. Could she remember me from our first encounter?
Well, that’s a maybe. Jumping spiders can actually recognize an individual spider they have seen before**, but besides the anecdotal evidence of pet-spider keepers, it doesn’t look like anybody tested whether they can recognize individual humans. I bet they can recognize us, but why should they bother? We must be pretty uninteresting to them... unless of course we bring food offerings.

And as a personal contribution to the discussion, I can say that Meg recognized me… as a nuisance! She clearly noticed me, and although she didn’t seem startled or afraid, she repeatedly tried to escape my line of sight, jumped away, or turned her back on me.
Her unquestionable avoidance created some conflict. I wanted to take a picture that would do her justice, but at the same time I felt that I was close to becoming a paparazzi of the invertebrate world. Imagine how much energy you'd need to triple your body size, and then fasting until your fangs (and body) are hard enough to actually bite into anything... And now having to deal with someone shoving a camera and a flash in your face, when you're just trying to get some breakfast. I don't know about you, but "annoyed" is a total understatement.
I promised her a few times that this would be the last shot, and then I'd let her be. In reality, there were a number of “last shots”, partly because she refused to pose still for the camera, and partly because I am a little clumsy with this whole "macro" thing.

When she hid behind the bamboo, I figured that she was really done with the photoshoot.

I wished her safe hunting; but if she responded, I didn't hear it.
Elena Corriero
All photos shot handheld
OM 60mm, f16, 1/100, ISO 200 + Godox V350 & AK diffuser
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