Orb Weaver Quotes

The Orb Weaver. I’m sitting across the table from the fucking Orb Weaver.  And she’s fucking beautiful.

Oh my God. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong. It had to be a woman. The Orb Weaver! Such a cool name. The intricate fishing line, the fucking eyeballs. Amazing. I’m such a huge fan.

Linda hadn't exaggerated her fear of the golden orb weaver spider. Up north at her cabin in Morley, I had once teased her by asking "Have we ever seen this kind of vireo before?" And then, instead of showing her a photo of a bird, I thrust a picture of the black-and-yellow spider at her. She shrieked. I laughed. Oh, the fun we had.

Speaking of scents, we’ve been discussing insects this week and I learned a certain type of orb-weaver spider puts out a scent that smells just like a female moth in heat in order to attract and trap male moths. It made me wonder what my lure scent would be. You know, the thing that would make me fly blindly to my death. I think it would probably be warm apple cider and cinnamon sugar doughnuts.

She waves her big spoon. “You can get me that orb-weaver spider from the corner over there.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Don’t you kill it! I need it alive.” “Can I have a jar to catch it with?” “No. Use your hands.” “Why?” “The recipe says so.” Jason arches an eyebrow. “Can I see that?” “Who is the witch here? Me.” She swats him on the arm with her wooden spoon. “Okay, okay.” With a sigh, he heads toward a dark corner. She turns on me and raises her spoon.

And then there is the Löwenmensch – the Lion Man of the Hohlenstein-Stadel. In the hills between Nuremberg and Munich in Swabian Germany there are caves that have yielded one of the most important works ever crafted by an unknown artist. Around 40,000 years ago, a woman or man sat somewhere in or near that cave, with the detritus of a hunt scattered around. They took a piece of ivory, a tusk from a woolly mammoth, and carefully considered that it might be the right material, shape and size for something that they had been pondering. Now extinct, cave lions were fierce predators at that time, posing a threat to people, and also to the animals that people would hunt and eat. That person thought about the lions, and how formidable they are, and maybe wondered what it would be like to have the power of a lion in the body of a human. Maybe this tribe revered the cave lions out of fear and awe. Whatever the reason, this artist took that mammoth ivory, a flint knife, and patiently carved the tusk into a mythical figure. It is a chimaera, a fantastic beast that is made up of the parts of multiple animals. Chimaeras exist throughout all human cultures for most of history, from mermaids, fawns or centaurs, to the glorious monkey-man god Hanuman, to the Japanese snake-woman nure-onna, to the Wolpertinger, an absurd and mischievous Bavarian part-duck part-squirrel part-rabbit with antlers and vampire teeth. Today, we have reached the ultimate manifestation of a 40,000-year interest in hybrid creatures in genetic engineering, where elements from one animal are transposed into another, and hence we have cats that glow in the dark with the genes of deep-sea crystal jellyfish Aquorea victoria, and goats that produce dragline silk from the golden orb weaver spider in their udders. The Lion Man of Hohlenstein-Stadel

The Orb Weaver. I’m sitting across the table from the fucking Orb Weaver. And she’s fucking beautiful.

I need to get my shit together. She’s the Orb Weaver, for Chrissakes. If she catches me ogling, she could pop my eyeballs out of my head and string me up in fishing line before I say the words no bra.

I like the jewellery,’ Dudley said. ‘Is that a snake around your neck?’ ‘As a matter of fact, I designed it. I have a jewellery business. And it’s part of my Rare Poison collection.’ ‘Sounds unusual.’ ‘The necklace is shaped like the butterfly viper that lives in Central Africa. The creature is really quite wonderful with its brilliant blue-green markings and bright red triangles. It’s also venomous. The earrings are inspired by the webs of the orb-weaver spider from Madagascar, which turn gold in sunlight. I’m exploring the correlation between beauty and death in nature.’ ‘They look lovely but they kill you,’ Hawthorne said. Gemma Beresford smiled for the first time. ‘Exactly.