The desert sun was just dipping behind the mountain when she began to
stir in the darkness of the rocky crevice she called home. While she
waited for the cool of night to finish falling upon her, she checked
the bundle of eggs packaged neatly in the back corner of her web-lined
cave. She pulled it close to herself, wrapping her legs around it and
turning it slightly within her grip, almost as if she were coddling it
like a baby.  A full week ago it was that she had spun the silken sac
and filled it with eggs, and any day now the little ones would be
emerging to take their first glimpse of the world. This was not the
first brood she had tended to; no, she had laid thousands of eggs in
her brief lifetime and sent many youngsters out into the harsh desert
to fend for themselves. But though this was but one of many egg sacs,
it was just as precious to her as any other, and she would protect it
with her life if need be.

The deepening shadows and cooling desert air roused her to the fact
that the web she had spun last evening was in need of repair if she
was to catch any supper. The violent grappling with a large Palmetto
bug the night before had left it quite disheveled and torn.

Cautiously she approached the door of her hideaway, her eight eyes
wide open as they always were, watching for any movement or change in
the dim light that would signal the presence of an enemy. Nothing
moved except for the wind, gently caressing the tiny hairs on her
glistening, black body and inviting her out into the night. With
perfect grace and dexterity she extended a long foreleg out into the
open, gripping the invisible web and pulling her round body forward.

In unison and amazing coordination her eight legs worked as she busily
inspected her web. In a few moments she knew what she had to do, and
began to run long strands of silken rope back and forth from the rocks
to the ground, over and under, until she was satisfied with the
unordered matrix that would ensnare her next meal.

In the moonlight the web glistened, as she made her way to the center
and hung herself upside down. She waited. She would wait all night
long without moving, if she had to, in order to feed. Hours passed.
The bright red hourglass pattern on her abdomen was beautiful in the
light of the traveling moon. She flexed her fangs in anticipation,
gently cleaning her legs one at a time as she awaited a passing
insect.

Another hour passed before she felt a small tug coming from one side
of her web. The tug grew in its intensity and frequency as she hastily
made her way down to where a male cricket had entangled his spiny legs
in her web. As she approached, she turned around and backed herself up
to the cricket, her long back legs working speedily and with
precision. Using first the right leg, then the left, she drew fresh
silk from her spinnerets and pulled it over the cricket like sticky
ropes of steel. In a moment she sensed that all hope of his escape was
gone, and turned to face him. Gripping him with her front legs, she
lowered herself until her fangs found the cricket's soft side, and
then she bit him. Letting the poison work, she turned again and drew
more silk over him, further ensuring that he would not escape. Another
bite, some more silk, and she climbed back up into her web, pulling
the paralyzed cricket behind her like a sack of potatoes. She secured
her supper so that it would not fall, and settled down for a much
needed meal. It was the crickets and Palmetto bugs and moths that
provided her with the nutrients she needed to produce sac after sac of
eggs. So many of her youngsters would not survive their first few days
in the world, and so by design her job in the world was to catch and
eat insects, and to bring young spiderlings into the world.

The sun began to light the landscape from behind the mountains on the
other side of the valley. Her meal complete, she dropped the cricket's
empty skeleton to the ground, and crawled back into the safety and
security of her silk and stone abode. She made her way again to the
corner where her egg sac was safely attached, listening to the faint
stir of spiderlings inside. Resting one motherly leg on the silky egg
case, and with her stomach full, she settled herself down to rest
until the darkness once more signaled her to the hunt.