We do not recollect that naturalists have ventured to assign any cause for this very remarkable multiplicity of the spinnerules of spiders, so different from the simple spinneret of caterpillars. To us it appears to be an admirable provision for their mode of life. Caterpillars neither require such strong materials, nor that their thread should dry as quickly. It is well known in our manufactures, particularly in rope-spinning, that in cords of equal thickness, those which are composed of many smaller ones united are greatly stronger than those which are spun at once. In the instance of the spider’s thread, this principle must hold still more strikingly, inasmuch as it is composed of fluid materials that require to be dried rapidly, and this drying must be greatly facilitated by exposing so many to the air separately before their union, which is effected at the distance of about a tenth of an inch from the spinnerets. In the following figure each of the threads represented is reckoned to contain one hundred minute threads, the whole forming only one of the spider’s common threads.
Leeuwenhoeck, in one of his extraordinary microscopical observations on a young spider not bigger than a grain of sand, upon enumerating the threadlets in one of its threads, calculated that it would require four millions of them to be as thick as a hair of his beard.
| A single thread of a Spider, greatly magnified, so that, for the small space represented, the lines are shown as parallel. | Attached end of a Spider’s thread magnified. |
Another important advantage derived by the spider from the multiplicity of its threadlets is, that the thread affords a much more secure attachment to a wall, a branch of a tree, or any other object, than if it were simple; for, upon pressing the spinneret against the object, as spiders always do when they fix a thread, the spinnerules are extended over an area of some diameter, from every hair’s-breadth of which a strand, as rope-makers term it, is extended to compound the main cord. The preceding figure exhibits this ingenious contrivance.
Those who may be curious to examine this contrivance will see it best when the line is attached to any black object, for the threads, being whitish, are, in other cases, not so easily perceived.
Shooting of the Lines.
It has long been considered a curious though a difficult investigation, to determine in what manner spiders, seeing that they are destitute of wings, transport themselves from tree to tree, across brooks, and frequently through the air itself, without any apparent starting point. On looking into the authors who have treated upon this subject, it is surprising how little there is to be met with that is new, even in the most recent. Their conclusions, or rather their conjectural opinions, are, however, worthy of notice; for by unlearning error, we the more firmly establish truth.
1. One of the earliest notions upon this subject is that of Blancanus, the commentator on Aristotle, which is partly adopted by Redi, by Henricus Regius of Utrecht, by Swammerdam, [EK] by Lehmann, and by Kirby and Spence.[EL] “The spider’s thread,” says Swammerdam, “is generally made up of two or more parts, and after descending by such a thread, it ascends by one only, and is thus enabled to waft itself from one height or tree to another, even across running waters; the thread it leaves loose behind it being driven about by the wind, and so fixed to some other body.” “I placed,” says Kirby, "the large garden spider (Epeira diadema) upon a stick about a foot long, set upright in a vessel containing water.… It let itself drop, not by a single thread, but by two, each distant from the other about the twelfth of an inch, guided, as usual, by one of its hind feet, and one apparently smaller than the other. When it had suffered itself to descend nearly to the surface of the water, it stopped short, and by some means, which I could not distinctly see, broke off, close to the spinners, the smallest thread, which still adhering by the other end to the top of the stick, floated in the air, and was so light as to be carried about by the slightest breath. On approaching a pencil to the loose end of this line, it did not adhere from mere contact. I therefore twisted it once or twice round the pencil, and then drew it tight. The spider, which had previously climbed to the top of the stick, immediately pulled at it with one of its feet, and finding it sufficiently tense, crept along it, strengthening it as it proceeded by another thread, and thus reached the pencil."
We have repeatedly witnessed this occurrence, both in the fields and when spiders were placed for experiment, as Kirby has described; but we very much doubt that the thread broken is ever intended as a bridge cable, or that it would have been so used in that instance, had it not been artificially fixed and accidentally found again by the spider. According to our observations, a spider never abandons, for an instant, the thread which she despatches in quest of an attachment, but uniformly keeps trying it with her feet, in order to ascertain its success. We are, therefore, persuaded that when a thread is broken in the manner above described, it is because it has been spun too weak; and spiders may often be seen breaking such threads in the process of netting their webs. (J. R.)
The plan, besides, as explained by these distinguished writers, would more frequently prove abortive than successful, from the cut thread not being sufficiently long. They admit, indeed, that spiders’ lines are often found “a yard or two long, fastened to twigs of grass not a foot in height.… Here, therefore, some other process must have been used.”[EM]