Moth vs Spider

I was in the kitchen whimsically throwing some shapes, triangles and squares – nothing too extravagant, and mixing myself a fruity cordial concoction, when my gaze fell upon an entrancing event.

The window in my kitchen falls onto a small alley created by my house and the house next door, and with the light shining out, attracts all manner of dive-bombing creepies and crawlies. I am not a fan of these kinds of creatures, seeing the bloated otherworldly undercarriage of a flitting moth is not an enjoyable experience, and interrupts my enjoyment of ‘The Electric Version’ by The New Pornographers.

When an area is a veritable thoroughfare for daredevil flying insects, it becomes inhabited by calculating predators looking to gorge on the fooling light-seekers. I have little to no idea how spiders and their ilk know to place their webs and set their traps in these areas, suffice to say, they just know. The tops of lampposts tend to be covered in webs, creating a shuddering insect-based parody of a bridal veil. What are bridal veils if not sticky traps used to ensnare hapless daddy long legs into their clutches in order to be slowly consumed? Eh? EH!? I’m not sure I agree with what I just wrote, but I am pleased that it is, at least, a valid analogy. Cobweb faced harlots.

The kitchen window is one such insect hotspot. As I stood at the sink and nonchalantly span the cold tap, I help my cup underneath the icy flow, the syrupy fluid inside mixing with the water to create a delicious, raspberry beverage. I lifted it to my lips, and savoured its powers of refreshment and its exciting taste. It was then that I witnessed an event, a hideous event that was truly distasteful.

A gloriously bulging moth crashed flippantly against the pane, as though attempting to enthral and entertain me with his frenetic slapstick window-dance, succeeding only in filling me with a vague sense of disgust. The uncontrollable airborne dancing moth jigged in circles, but like a tiny parody Michael Jackson, soon fell afoul of fate.

My eyes, now acclimatised to the landscape of the windowpane, spotted that the corners were coated with a fine webbing, suddenly, I spied a calculating miniscule fiend secreted in the shadows. The moth flipped busily hither and thither until eventually, inevitably, its oversized wing clipped the edge of the web. The spider dove forwards, propelling itself onward with startling speed. Its spindle limbs reached and probed hastily, yet assuredly, in a vision of pure nightmare. In an instant, the octoped was grappling the moth, attempting to drag it fully into the web with its grotesque tendrils.

I gawped on, fascinated and revolted in equal parts. I was caught in a moral quandary: whom do I support? I had no intention of intervening directly in the petty squabbles of the insect kingdom, but equally, I was unwilling to merely gawp on in an objective spirit of inquiry. My personal bias offered me no help, both moths and spiders rate very badly on a list of ‘Things I Want to be Close To’, also scoring highly on a list of ‘Things I Have to Routinely Throw Out of My Room’, coming in at joint second, losing out to ‘Sexy Women’ (ha ha haaaa!).

I soon decided that I would side with the moth, as I felt he was the slight underdog, and I also took into account the fact that he was only flying about innocently, while the spider was viciously attacking him, with an eye to doing an eating of him all up in his belly. Also the moth wins out over the spider in the bedroom (not in a sexy way, although there is a ‘Gnat’s Chuff’ joke in there if you want it Mr. Herring), a moth in my bedroom is likely to elicit a 'dodging head' reaction of annoyance, whereas a spider in my room will fill me with a visceral revulsion and make my skin crawl. I was slightly pleased, then, to see the moth break free and flap tentatively to rest on the back wall of the alley. Its flying seemed impaired slightly due to the scuffle with the spider, and considering a moth’s flight is an uncertain thing at the best of times, I was slightly worried that my celebrations had been premature. My fears then worsened when I saw a scuttling newcomer enter the fray.

The new spider on the back wall was far smaller than the original combatant, and not only because he was physically further away from me. The moth, who’d learnt his lesson, swiftly took flight, to the best of his ability, though he was clearly “hurtin’ bad” as I’m sure they say somewhere in America. To my chagrin, I noticed that the moth’s choice of landing platform was the window, whose very pane it had so recently suffered upon. As I watched helplessly on, I heard phantom strains of Chumbawumba’s ‘I Get Knocked Down’ wailing in my heart.

The moth and the spider clung the window mere centimetres from one another, locked in what certainly was not a stare-out. For the longest time, the two warriors hugged the glass, and nothing happened. After several minutes of tense anticipation, I got bored and left.

Though it makes for an unsatisfying narrative ark, I feel the inherent romanticism of the event is better safeguarded by my having absconded.

So what message can we take from a battle between a moth and a spider? Erm… well, to be honest I feel any message would only apply to you if you were a moth. Or a spider.

What I did notice however is that I enjoyed the face-off between the two insects far more than I enjoyed a film called “Komodo vs Cobra”, which lasted significantly longer and offered far less humanity, even though it had actual human characters in it. I would suggest if you plan on making a 'frightening' film you base it around a moth and a spider. Or a daddy long legs and a granny grey. Although that’s more likely to be a comedy.

Realistically I think a film would be better if it was based on humans, although my moth and spider will always have a special place in my memories. As long as they are on the other side of some thick glass.