Goodbye Frida Kahlo

 

Sadness has come to our house once again. Frida Kahlo our beautiful Mexican Flame Knee  tarantula has shuffled off this mortal coil and gone to the big web in the sky. She was approximately twelve years old, which is a good life. Not as long as some, but longer than others.

Normally adult tarantulas moult (shed their skin) about once a year. This act has made me anxious without the Amazing Spiderman. If someone is late, should I worry? I have no one to discuss these fears with. I don’t worry about Christina Rossetti because she hasn’t moulted since 2017 and seems to be OK with that. But Frida and Pippi used to be like clockwork, perhaps because they are so similar. Spiderman used to say they were cousins because Pippi is a Mexican Fireleg ( Brachypelma Boehmei) and Frida was a Mexican Flame Knee (Brachypelma Auratam). They used to both moult within a month of each other (usually in the summer.) After Spiderman died, they both missed their summer moult which left me in a state of panic. Had I done something wrong? But eventually they both moulted in the autumn of 2021. Pippi moulted again in October of last year, but Frida never did. I had been trying to watch her for signs, but she was not showing any.

One of the characteristics of Frida was she seemed to love to play hide and seek and scare her Mummy to pieces. Her favourite spot was crouching small in the back right corner of the tank by the heat mat, half buried in substrate behind her hidey cup. A quick glance into the tank would make you think she had some how escaped. But moving her tank out into the light caused her to leap out and flick her itchy hairs at you as if to say “Stop shaking the tank, I was fine until you bumbled in and started moving everything!” She was like Pippi in that regard. Pip has always been an irritated hair flicker.

Friday, I noticed that she had moved away from her favourite spot in the back corner and was out in the open. I was able to get a good look at her with the torch. Her skin was dull and her joints scabby. This is a very clear sign that a moult is imminent. I noticed she hadn’t eaten the crickets I had put in on Wednesday and so I carefully removed them (a necessary act because a moulting spider is incredible vulnerable—they are helpless and their new skin is soft. A cricket can easily nibble on them in their weakened state and they will bleed to death.) This job always makes me cry with frustration as I need Spiderman to help with this. Looking after the Spiderbabes is a two-person job. It really helps to have one person doing the job and the other as a lookout, so the spider doesn’t escape. But she was surprisingly chilled out. This might have been a clue that she was unwell, but I was so relieved she didn’t try to run up the side to the open lid like she did one other time, I just breathed a sigh of relief. Spiders who are about to moult are often very quiet and still and “not their usual lively selves” before a moult as they are conserving energy for the big day, so I wasn’t too worried. In hindsight, maybe I should have been.

I checked on her again Saturday and she was still out front and centre. There was no sign of laying down a soft blanket of a web to moult on, but if she was going to do it, she was in the correct place to do so as it had plenty of room. I still wasn’t worried, but I increased the moisture in the tank as higher humidity helps with a moult.

On Sunday, I looked in and realised that she was in the same position as she had been both Friday and Saturday. Not just “near the same place” but in EXACTLY the same place. Uh oh. I did the test of jostling her tank. Nothing. I poured water near her. Nothing. I poured water on her (an act previously which would have made her furious). No reaction. Normally you can tell a spider is dead because they go into the “death curl” with their legs tucked under their body. She really wasn’t curled up, no more than her favourite scrunched up position she used to do in the back of the tank.

By this time it was very late and there was nothing else I could do. I woke up early this morning and removed her from the tank and looked at her body for signs of disease, but I could see nothing. I went out to the garden before work and dug a little hole and buried her. She’s out there with Lily Rose, Blanche DuBois, Polychrome and Pirouette.

I am both saddened and relieved. Saddened because our mutual love of arachnids was one of the things that brought Spidergrrl and Spiderman together. Of the original eight of the Spiderbabes (Lily Rose, Blanche Dubois, Christina Rossetti, Pirouette, Polychrome, Tibia, Pippi Longstocking, and Frida Kahlo) only two remain. Pippi Longstocking who is approximately fourteen years old and Christina Rossetti who we have had for fifteen years and we believe was an adult when we rescued her so she might actually be eighteen or nineteen years old.  Relieved because I have struggled since I became a widow to care for them on my own. Spiderman was always the Captain and I was the lookout, now I have to be both Captain and lookout.

I have loved each and every Spiderbabe with all my heart, but I know when the last one leaves this earth, I will not seek replacements. As with everything in my life it is made more difficult having to do it all by myself, but like the rest of my life I will just continue to muddle on.

Rest in Peace my little eight-legger.