A Tarantula Tale

[Disclaimer: This story includes a dramatic re-enactment and is told strictly from MY point of view. Other eyewitnesses and participants may have differing viewpoints.}

Sunday my husband and I were able to get away for the day with friends. We went to Sunset Magazine's headquarters in Menlo Park for their celebration weekend. It was beautiful and we both enjoyed exploring more about our interests (mine - cooking and veggie gardening, his - travel and ornamental gardening). We left our daughters at home to take care of the house and animals.

Right about the time that the birds are fed in the afternoon, my cell phone rang. I answered it to find BOTH of my daughters on the phone crying and squealing hysterically. I calmed them down enough to hear them inform me that there was a baby tarantula in the loft. Apparently, when they went out to begin their loft duties, the aforementioned arachnid startled them - causing a hasty exit and panicked phone call.

I doubted whether it was a tarantula because they aren't found in our area. However, my girls insisted it was HUGE, hairy, and DEFINITELY a tarantula. They were very upset and begged me to send someone over to rid them of this situation. We were en route to home, but were still a couple of hours away. Additionally, we were spending the day with two couples that happen to be amongst our closest friends. In other words, we couldn't call either couple to ask them to help the girls out. I gave the girls permission to shirk their duties for a couple of hours until we returned. I told them I was quite sure that it wasn't a tarantula, but they could look on the internet if they wanted to see one. This instruction was a mistake.

The internet is a wondrous tool that can take one to faraway lands where information of all types may be accessed. It's a blessing... and a curse - especially when accessed by 14 and 16 year old paranoid arachnophoibics.

An hour later I received another alarming call. "Mom!" daughter #1 exclaimed, "there are tons of baby tarantulas"

"AND they eat baby pigeons," daughter #2 added.

My heart began to pound and I was briefly sucked into their whirlwind of hysteria. I took a deep breath and regained my senses. "How many tarantulas?" I inquired.

"Seven hundred," they replied in unison.

"Seven hundred tarantulas! There are SEVEN HUNDRED TARANTULAS in the LOFT!" My anxiety and disbelief rose together. All the other conversations in our merry vehicle ceased and everyone politely eavesdropped on the conversation.

"Well, we haven't seen all of them yet," one daughter offered.

"How many have you seen?" I asked.

"Just the one, but the internet said that they have seven hundred babies at a time. So 699 must be under the loft. They live in burrows."

My relief was mixed with annoyance at this revelation. I began an new line of questioning. "Okay, let me get this straight. You've seen one spider. You're convinced it's a tarantula. You haven't seen any adult tarantulas. Is the spider near the babies?"

"No, it's in the center section of the loft behind the file cabinet."

"Just leave everything alone until we get home."

"But what if it eats the babies? We saw them eating babies on YouTube," daughter #2 sobbed.

"There are videos of tarantulas eating baby pigeons on YouTube?" I reeled slightly from the mental picture and the shock. "Don't watch that garbage. Did you watch it?"

"We couldn't watch the entire clip. It was too gross. But there were tons of tarantulas in it, and..."

"If you see any more," I interrruped, "then call me back. Otherwise, just stay inside, I'll be home soon. Besides, how much could one spider eat?"

"There are 700."

I'll have to admit that I returned anticipating at least one big hairy spider and was already brainstorming extermination strategies which included pants, long sleeves, gloves, and possibly a ski mask. However, when I finally made it home the culprit was nowhere to be found. I couldn't even locate the single baby tarantula - much less the hoarde of pigeon marauding arachnids marching through teenish imaginations fueled by Google, YouTube, and Wikipedia.