Bathtime for Miss Muffet

What can a spider trapped in the bath expect from me?

I can well imagine the trepidation felt by an arachnid (in this sort of self imposed predicament) upon hearing the front door of the empty house open and shut followed by the muffled footfalls and accompanying audio (usually I hum)  as I make my way around on my inspection routine.

There must be an eery amplification in the bottom of a vinyl or enamelled bath tub made more intimidating by a long period of silence and isolation. Floor timbers and the structure through the house will carry the smallest of resonant vibrations from footfalls, door movements and clumsy stumblings adding to the suspense of a trapped spider.

Some of the species will be aware, from first hand experience or hearsay, of the dangers of bathtub imprisonment.

I am the first to apologise for the character trait found in some humans that dictates that any such situation justifies a swill down the plughole, squishing by a bathtime implement or a failure to recognise that a creature is on death-row.

I am not sure how long a spider can survive being stranded.

They give the impression of being lean and stringy with good stamina and a strong will to survive. This is of undoubted help when they have to escape from the innards of a vacuum cleaner or make a dash for a miniscule gap in a room corner when being pursued by a highly motivated housewife armed with furniture polish or air freshener.

I do come across some very dessicated carcasses in long term empty houses (spiders, not housewives)

It would be interesting to send these to be examined by a forensic team to establish cause and time of death.

The casting of a human shadow across the valley of a bathtub must be frightening indeed to a boggle eyed and weak spider. Most just seem to feign death by remaining completely motionless hoping not to be noticed or just overlooked. Being committed to spider rescue I do test out the status of any occupants. A brief exhale of air can be enough or failing that a careful poke with the end of a ball point pen.

Signs of life allow me to assess the most appropriate action.

If a spider is very feeble, a bit disorientated or near death then I can usually scoop it out on the corner of my clipboard pad and relocate it to the bathroom floor or another part of the house.

Those determined to put up a fight can get even more agitated and distressed by this method. I prefer , in this situation, to drape a towel or cloth over the side of the bath so as to form a bridge or a bit like a ship-side cargo netting.

This places the emphasis on the spider to take advantage of the escape route.

Many empty houses lack soft furnishings but invariably have net or fabric curtains in situ which can be un-clipped from their rails and rods and used readily. I have not as yet had any complaints from owners or estate agents upon this strange discovery in a bathroom.

I may pop my head around the door at the end of my inspection to see if the offer of liberty has been taken up.it is about 50/50 on uptake.

I do not seek any gratitude for my sympathetic approach.

There is some satisfaction, granted, in prolonging the right to existence of one of God's creations although many will disagree with a passion.

The downside?

Well there can be a couple of things.

The first is that in admitting my policy to others I do excite considerable controversy.

The other is that having helped a spider to escape you have to be very careful not to step on the thing a few minutes later as it makes its gleeful and relieved way home through the rest of the house.

That crunching sound under foot is not very pleasant, more to one party than the other.