Backyard holocaust

I was going to proudly tell you about the impending arrival of Mrs Golden Orb’s babies. She went to the maternity ward last Saturday (the other end of the verandah) and laid an enormous egg sac. Once it was safely anchored with some golden thread, she retreated to her web to recover. Mr Golden Orb has kept a tiny, proud eye on her. (When I say ‘tiny’ I actually mean ‘minuscule’.) Anyway, this morning, while I was still non compos mentis, the Old Boy killed the babies. That’s right; I’m going to call it as it is. I’m not prettying it up. He killed them because he didn’t want them taking up residence around our home. He’s a terrorist of the arachnid world. I was quite happy to wait and watch. I wanted to...

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