I Made An Unwritten Agreement With A Spider
We made our first kill in a matter of minutes
I have always wanted to see a cheetah chase its prey live.
Nothing recorded, nothing screened.
My brother recounted when he had this privilege.
In my mind, I imagined the spine twisting, turning and the quick successive vector changes as the prey opted to switch course hoping to dodge the flexible wild cat, but with matched agility, the cheetah doesn’t lose sight of the target.
All of this happens in a matter of minutes.
Documentaries cite a myth about how short the chase would be because cheetahs overheat from the fast running. The myth was, however, debunked by a recent study.
But another misconception is that cheetahs will often succeed because they are the fastest land animals. Most of the chases are failures. I might be lucky to see a cheetah that hunts and captures its prey.
I was hoping to capture some of this excitement from my recent trip to the Mara, but the only fast animal we saw was the warthog.
Bent on seeing some wild action, I turned to my apartment.
Roaches, roaches, roaches — this is serious!
Closing the door, I immediately flipped the switch and turned on the lights.
They all scattered.
It was becoming a common thing. I inherited roaches from the person who left the place where I currently reside.
The first time I saw the numbers, I wasn’t bothered. I even spared some of them. I thought they were a small number and would eventually jump ship, one kill at a time.
They appealed to my interest in bugs.
They also took my mercy and created a legion of brown, crawling soldiers and like the gospel, decided to spread the good word to every corner and crevice they could find.
Since they can’t read, I couldn’t put up a ‘do-not-trespass’ sign for them to see. Humans who can read still trespass whatever should not be trespassed — allegedly.
Insects that have existed long before we crept into the evolutionary scene would hardly care what signposts we put up. They have survived worse threats than mere promises of death on a signboard.
I bought an insecticide and decided to systematically spray my house before leaving for work. That evening, a good number of them lay prostrate, dead. It seemed to work.
Seemed.
Evolution, however, doesn’t work that way. The weak and unlucky die, but the strong and lucky take the lion’s share of what would have been consumed by other roaches. I was creating a setting for breeding roaches that are likely to be resistant to future spraying episodes.
I resorted to a more conservative and environmentally safe means — cleaning. I tidied up my kitchen neatly.
It too didn’t work.
Using insecticides only killed a fraction of them. I accepted that it would be difficult to completely annihilate all of them. I planned on getting a powder soon, to eliminate the infestation, but as it stands, they have triggered two things.
First, an interest in learning so much about cockroaches from their evolutionary history to their survival tactics. Two, an admiration for their tendency to avoid annihilation, following the theory I formulated about evolution.
All the while, I never knew that the same theory would lead me to form an allegiance with an eight-legged partner.
How I forged the partnership
By this time, most of my killings were now mechanical. I spot a cockroach, pick any flat item within arm’s reach, and kill it.
I wouldn’t want to stain my white walls, so I’d flick the roaches down and then step on them.
One evening, while I was on my mass-murder mission, I spotted a spider’s web. I had just hung my bag behind the only seat in my house when, after flicking one of them to the floor, I saw a spider waiting.
In a matter of seconds, we made a partnership.
The plan was to feed the spider since it was on the same mission as me. It sought food, and I had food in droves. I also had corners where it could continue creating its web and taking more cockroaches captive.
Rather than flick the cockroaches to the floor, I’d flick them towards the spider’s web.
Here’s another common facet in the theory of Organismal Selection: the role of the spider serves me — it kills the cockroaches. Also, my role in flicking cockroaches toward the web serves the spider.
We had created a stable hierarchical relationship — we had forged a merger. Mergers are the highlight of the theory of Organismal Selection.
Afraid of us
You know this ain’t no game to us
You strange to us
That’s when we getting’ dangerous
Come on
— Busta Rhymes
It wasn’t a game to us.
I wanted the cockroaches to die.
The spider wanted them to die, but after having its fill.
The same evening, I witnessed the entire fight unravel before my eyes.
It was amazing!
I flicked one cockroach towards the web. It didn’t hit the floor. It hung mid-air, trapped by the silky net of my new partner. It triggered the spider that lay still on its contraption. Startled, it recognized I had thrown a prey right into its territory.
What am I doing? How can I have a partner and not give it a name? Let’s call the spider Mandy.
With enthusiasm, Mandy quickly moved towards the brown, kicking and, struggling insect. Trapped on its back, legs sticking out, beating frantically it tried to free itself from the sticky web. Mandy made a move but was hit by one of the unexpected kicks by the cockroach.
Since it knew its way around its territory, it attacked from a different side. I think it paralyzed the prey because it could now weave a silky wrap around it. But the kicks, less forceful now, continued.
It was phenomenal to see how it would strike and then move back, spin a thread of shackles, and move to another side. Tactfully subduing the prey, it eventually won this battle.
It reminded me of my favourite actor in the Avatar series, Toph Beifong, the earth bender, and how she would defeat her fighters by attacking several weak points before delivering the final blow.
Staying alive, you know only the stronger survive — Busta Rhymes
How fast have you ever made an implicit MOU and witnessed immediate returns?
I enjoyed every moment of it.
There’s a question I like to ask people especially when they watch documentaries. Nat-Geo-Wild-esque documentaries. The question goes:
Do you wish for the cheetah to catch the deer or for the deer to escape?
The answer usually varies.
The theme or the series of events that preceded the scene dictate one’s answer. If the cheetah has gone hungry after several chases, most wish it at least has one kill.
If the deer is small, compared to those surrounding it, most wish it escapes.
I practically wanted the cockroaches gone.
The cheetah in the house was my partner, the spider.
Mandy.
What I’m trying to say is…
My brother might have seen a cheetah chase prey, but for free, I saw a spider hunt and subdue a cockroach twice its size.
My brother never formulated any agreement with the cheetah.
I only wish I would have recorded it, but my proud self doesn’t like missing out on the live event just so I can record it on my device. I like being fully absorbed, without a care for how awkward my position is at the time.
I hoping to see how far our partnership goes.
Mandy and I against the world — of roaches.
PS: You can also get into an instant MOU with me by enjoying my atomic newsletter for timeless weekly insights on how you can achieve extreme value, almost as much as I did with Mandy. Subscribe and join the 55+ others.
