Tag Archives: black & yellow argiope (Argiope aurantia)

Natural flavor

July 23, 2015 jason 3 Comments

It’s not that I’ve lost interest in blogging. In fact, I have an endless supply of stories to tell and photos to share.

But the requisites of life care not for personal endeavors.

I’m the youngest person at our family farm. I should add that I’m the youngest by decades. And I’m the healthiest person here—healthiest despite back surgery, knee surgery, sinus surgery, leukemia, and all that jazz.

But this is a real farm with real livestock and real work to be done: animals to be fed and cared for, pastures to be tended, fences to be put up or fixed, crops to be grown and nurtured, vehicles and equipment to be maintained, pets to be managed, meals to be cooked, supplies to be acquired, technology to be administered…

And yet this is also a household with real needs beyond the farm: be the copy editor for family newsletters and stories; take care of everyone’s cell phones, satellite internet, computers and modems and routers and printers/scanners/fax machines; find the best deal for this, that or the other; fix televisions and satellite TV services; plant and care for flowers and bushes and fruit trees and vegetables and whatnot; find solutions to rodent problems that plague gardens and households and livestock and…

Well, let’s just say that this is a real farm and a real household with real work and real needs and a diminishing lack of able bodies.

Except me.

In my “spare” time I’m still writing books, still snapping photos, still looking for paid work I can do without taking away from the farm, still being there for my parents and family through their increasing health issues, still hoping for another visit with my nieces and nephews and brothers and sister and aunts and uncles and…

Well… Still wishing life had dealt me a more manageable hand than the one I have to play, still thinking that I’ll catch a break as soon as the universe realizes it gave me bad cards, still trying to maintain a poker face whilst clinging to sanity.

Nevertheless, blogging and photography and… Well—again—let’s just say that my aspirations cower behind a deck stacked against them, and they and I don’t seem to have any input into the deal or play of cards.

To wit, I want to do this but I have to do that.

I want to write more, publishing books and novellas and articles. I want to delve into people photography, whether for profit or for fun. I want to continue my nature photography, published or otherwise. I want to keep abreast with technology and remain an expert in that arena, able to deal with any question or need no matter the platform. I want to set aside my work for the people—Well, let’s just say that I want to focus on personal efforts instead of what’s required of me by the populace (who need me but don’t even know they need me).

Only I’m not someone’s bitch, not time’s nor life’s nor the world’s. So here’s where I take control of my digital existence. Or so I tell myself.

Close-up of a black & yellow argiope (Argiope aurantia) silhouetted by the sun (20081011_13628)

Because—let’s be honest here—we spin our webs and catch our prey without a thought for what we control. We live life sans a care for what we feel, let alone for what we manage.

Early morning crepuscular rays seen through trees and ground fog (20131018_08774)

And the rays of light carry us from moment to moment, from morning to morning, from here to there.

White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) jumping a pasture fence (20140114_09569)

We jump our fences. We find our way through the mayhem of what is and what comes.

Close-up of a Texas dandelion (Pyrrhopappus carolinianus) in sunshine (20140525_10603)

We bloom when nothing matters, when nothing counts, when the world measures itself for naught.

A beetle atop blooming prairie fleabane (Erigeron strigosus) (20140529_10696)

We stand upon the blooms we discount only because they hold us up and carry us forward.

A male giant stag beetle (Lucanus elaphus) walking across gravel (20140625_11524)

We march forward without a care for the world.

A zebra swallowtail (Eurytides marcellus) eating minerals from the ground (20140703_11720)

We flit from here to there so we can consume sustenance, so we can survive.

A brown morph female blue-fronted dancer (Argia apicalis) resting on wood (20140811_12152)

We rest. We lie comfortably so we can rest. And we rest.

A leucistic female ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) perched on a feeder (20140811_12304)

We stand out from the crowd when we’re nothing more than what is.

A female green anole (Anolis carolinensis) peering around a corner at me (20140923_12528)

And we catch a peek when we can. We look upon what is and accept that we are what was.

Because we’re more than what we thought, we’re more than what we believed. In the end, we are more.

Thus, I’m more.

And I want to be more.

And I will be more.

Because I’m going to move forward.

I’m going to win.

I’m going to survive.

I’m going to overcome.

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

Black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) – female
Crepuscular rays
White-tailed deer (a.k.a. whitetail deer; Odocoileus virginianus)
Texas dandelion (a.k.a. false dandelion, Carolina desert-chicory, leafy false dandelion or Florida dandelion; Pyrrhopappus carolinianus)
Prairie fleabane (a.k.a. daisy fleabane or rough fleabane; Erigeron strigosus)
Giant stag beetle (a.k.a. American stag beetle; Lucanus elaphus) – male
Zebra swallowtail (a.k.a. black-barred swallowtail; pawpaw butterfly or kite swallowtail; Eurytides marcellus)
Blue-fronted dancer (Argia apicalis) – brown morph female
Ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) – leucistic female
Green anole (a.k.a. Carolina anole; Anolis carolinensis) – female

Walking with spiders – Part 2

December 8, 2009 jason 14 Comments

Despite my passion for creepy crawlies (i.e., insects, arachnids, etc.) and my passion for flowers and my passion for—well, you get the point—despite my love of the smaller joys nature provides, I have yet to invest in a macro lens. Times are tough and finances are tight, so I don’t see such an investment happening soon. Nevertheless, I can’t allow lack of equipment to interfere with my desire to see and photograph as much life as I can find.

Female filmy dome spider (Neriene radiata) hanging on her web (2009_07_07_026162)

This female filmy dome spider (Neriene radiata) built her web alongside a creek in the shade of surrounding trees. Hardly more than a hand’s width above the ground, she patiently hung from the underside of the web as she waited for a meal to drop by. These small, delicate spiders have a habit of building webs anchored at multiple points vertically, and that design effort creates a domed sheet web unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Getting her photograph proved challenging with her nearness to the ground and the shape of her food trap—especially with me trying desperately to avoid snagging or breaking any of the anchor lines—yet she sat quietly and never budged as I contorted myself into odd shapes looking for at least one reasonable view.

Female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) eating prey (2009_09_26_029375)

Still nibbling on prey which long before had stopped being identifiable, this female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) soaked up some rays at the woodland edge. The floodplain stretched out before her like a living smorgasbord of food. Behind her, thicket at the drip line gave way to riparian woodlands. Her position offered her a delectable banquet of goodies on which to feast while she prepared to create her first egg sac. I had hopes that a mild winter would allow her to survive (females of this species, when they survive the winter, live into the following year whilst continuing to grow, hence they become massive). Unfortunately for her and for my hopes, our winter started early and hard freezes have already occurred…with more on the way. No matter: her children will survive and they will take her place at the dining table starting next spring.

Wolf spider (Hogna sp.) standing on a leaf (2009_09_06_028837)

One of the joys of photography comes from discovering surprises in the frame when you review the images later. Thus was the case with this wolf spider (Hogna sp.). I knelt in mud and flooded grass trying to get a picture of a cricket frog. Such frogs are small, mind you, and they vanish quickly beneath even the shortest ground cover. But later that day when I looked at the results, there in the depth of field stood this little hunter whose stillness and shadow-like colors kept me from seeing it to begin with.

Female spinybacked orbweaver (a.k.a. crab spider, spiny orbweaver, jewel spider, spiny-bellied orbweaver, jewel box spider or smiley face spider; Gasteracantha cancriformis) with freshly caught prey (2009_10_03_030591)

I never for a moment thought I could get a respectable image of this female spinybacked orbweaver (a.k.a. crab spider, spiny orbweaver, jewel spider, spiny-bellied orbweaver, jewel box spider or smiley face spider; Gasteracantha cancriformis). I stood on the opposite side of a large creek from where she and her web hung in the shadows. In fact, I didn’t realize she was there until a small insect hit her trap and she scampered off to grab it. I waited for her to return to the center of the web before I tried to get her photo. Despite their unique appearance, these spiders tend toward the small end of the scale and usually go undiscovered until someone walks through their web.

Female funnel-web grass spider (Agelenopsis sp.) with freshly caught leafhopper (2009_10_17_031931)

With heavy dew on the ground, seeing this female funnel-web grass spider (Agelenopsis sp.) proved easy: a small plot of land no larger than a car had four shimmering traps stretched across the wet grass. Thankfully she caught a small leafhopper just as I took her photo. You can barely see it there near her mouth. Here’s another view that makes the prey a tad easier to see.

Female funnel-web grass spider (Agelenopsis sp.) with freshly caught leafhopper (2009_10_17_031934)

Interestingly enough, grass spiders like this do not spin webs that are sticky. The silk dries and serves a more net-like purpose, trapping insects by entwining them when they land and keeping the critters held for a second or two. Just long enough for the spider to erupt from the funnel, grab and bite the prey, then return with it into the recesses of their web where they remain unseen. This helps ensure other insects don’t associate the web with danger, and it also helps the spider enjoy its meal without interruption.

Female barn spider (Neoscona crucifera) sitting in the middle of her orb web (2009_10_10_031233)

And finally a barn spider (Neoscona crucifera). Often confused with the spotted orbweaver (a.k.a. cross spider; Neoscona domiciliorum), the barn spider will be the focus of part 3 of this series. Why one post dedicated to one kind of spider? Because just when you thought it was difficult to differentiate one species from another or one gender from another, wait until you see how polymorphism makes this species a real challenge to identify.

Consolation prizes

October 13, 2008 jason 5 Comments

Mom and I wandered about the farm Saturday on a quest for interesting things to photograph. Well, in truth our search focused primarily on black widow spiders.

We know they inhabit the area and skulk about the various buildings and surrounding woods. Finding them proved to be a challenge, however, and that despite the many hiding places we uncovered, flipped over, lifted, and peered behind, under, over and through.

I even tried to convince Mom to crawl beneath the house as I was certain we could find some there. She refused. Vehemently. I was disappointed with her of course. She passed up a great opportunity for discovery…

Our travels notwithstanding, we found nary a single black widow spider, at least not one willing to pose for us (I’m sure a few scampered off into the shadows as we pillaged their cover).

Nevertheless, we stumbled upon a handful of arachnids who didn’t flee at our lumbering approach.

Special note: This is the time when you should look away, nathalie with an h. Eight-legged critters ahead…

A female arabesque orbweaver (Neoscona arabesca) clinging to the center of her web (20081011_13562)

I only captured one presentable photo of this female arabesque orbweaver (Neoscona arabesca). Her massive silken trap spanned the distance from ground to the outside eaves of the house (probably three meters/yards). Unfortunately for me, that large space meant the web succumbed to the light breeze with striking regularity, and the spider herself swayed like a trapeze artist preparing to make a dashing and dangerous leap.

Standing beneath her facing the dark porch ceiling in the background, I found little contrast with which to memorialize her presence. From behind her I found only bright blue sky to cloak her image. Damn it!

A female spinybacked orbweaver (a.k.a. crab spider, spiny orbweaver, jewel spider, spiny-bellied orbweaver, jewel box spider or smiley face spider; Gasteracantha cancriformis) clinging to the center of her web (20081011_13713)

Neither Mom nor Dad had a clue as to this creature’s identity. As short-lived as her life will be, I was surprised she survived long enough for my mother to remember her and bring me to her location for help in putting a name to the beast.

By that picture alone she is recognizable, the only spider in North America with both of the telltale traits that define her: the abdominal carapace spines and the pattern of spots.

That happens to be a female spinybacked orbweaver (Gasteracantha cancriformis). It comes as no surprise that she is also known as a crab spider, spiny orbweaver, jewel spider, spiny-bellied orbweaver, jewel box spider and, most importantly, a smiley face spider.

Like the arachnid before her, the day’s light winds made photography nearly impossible, although in her case that was much more apparent as her web rested at a 45° angle to the ground and her minuscule size provided no anchorage to weigh down her resting spot. Each time I focused on her and pushed the button, she would sway leisurely toward or away from me. That makes for impossible photography when working in macro mode (when dealing with very small subjects and a very tight depth of field).

Challenges aside, I felt great pleasure in digitally capturing her. This was the first opportunity I had to do as much.

A female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) hanging on the underside of her web (20081011_13695)

The black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia). Ubiquitous yet mesmerizing, this female caught my attention as she rested against her web, a structure built on the south side of the purple morning glories my parents so enjoy.

A veritable horde of this species can be found no matter where one looks at the farm. Growing from a tiny spiderling to a massive creature spanning the palm of my hand—legs not included, I mean—it’s difficult to miss them regardless of where one happens to rest one’s eyes.

Close-up of a female female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) as she clings to her web (20081011_13625)

Yet another female called home the area around the pigs. From her first appearance here she has grown to the tune of at least tripling in size, if not quadrupling, and she has a long way to go.

She will double her mass before the end of her days. She might even triple her mass. When she is done growing, she will fill the palm of my hand without her legs being counted.

If she stretched her appendages to their furthest extent, at least once she’s fully grown, she would be able to encompass the whole of my hand with plenty of room to spare.

Close-up of a female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) showing the anchor line coming from her spinnerets (20081011_13622)

Disregarding the promise of her future, though, she made for a tolerant and beautiful subject. When I focused on her abdomen, the anchor line from her spinnerets revealed itself, the safety harness with which she attaches to her web being an important part of her existence.

Like most spiders, although not all.

A female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) hanging on the underside of her web (20081011_13631)

Briefly did I poke the lens into her realm; briefly did I invade her space for a shot or two (not all of which are shown here). What a patient and tolerant beast. Her bite no worse than a wasp sting, perhaps she comprehended the challenge before her should she choose to fight me—or the camera.

I hope to see her at her prime, at her most mature stage before she hands the future over to generations she might never know.

A female green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) resting atop a leaf (20081011_13681)

But what about the ambush predator, the one briefly touched upon a few months ago?

Mom drew my attention to one such beautiful monster also hidden amongst the purple morning glories. This female green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) cared little for our presence, reacting slowly and methodically as I invaded her territory.

A female green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) resting atop a leaf (20081011_13674)

Perhaps my favorite arachnid species, she is an ambush predator, a stealthy bit of green upon a canvas of green. She spins a tad of web for safety before taking her position near where she knows insects will follow: flowers.

Like a statue she waits. Eventually an unsuspecting wasp, bee or fly will wander into her territory, will land upon some bloom within her purview. Then she strikes.

A female green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) resting atop a leaf (20081011_13683)

Resting the camera lens on the same leaf from which she hunted, or perhaps the place she chose for rest, I felt a tinge of surprise that she didn’t flee. My experience with this species has always included a ready retreat when I invaded their territory.

So I got closer.

Close-up of a female green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) resting atop a leaf (20081011_13688)

My heart leapt when she stood her ground no matter how close I pushed the camera.

Then again, I realized she held a distinct advantage: She can see in 360° at once without moving her body. Atop her head rests a white cap, and the outline of that cap defines her field of view. Apparent in that photo, all eight of her eyes circle her head: two facing backward, one facing each side, two facing directly forward, and two angled to either side of front.

My invasion posed no risk as she had a superior position, one that she knew included the whole of her surroundings. No matter what I did, she always had in sight an escape route.

Shadow realm

August 31, 2008 jason Leave a comment

What creatures dwell within that place where humans fear to tread, that lightless world brushed in shades of darkness? What life calls the shadow realm home?

A female green anole (Anolis carolinensis) hunting amongst the branches of verdant shrubs (20080823_11239)

What fate awaits the hapless wanderer who unwittingly seeks shelter within the embrace of shadows?

A mushroom (unidentified) that joined its brethren in a one-day grow-a-thon outside my patio when days of rain finally gave way to calmer weather (20080821_11150)

What birth cares not for the light—fears it even—and wishes for naught save the confines of night wherein it finds all need and all want satiated?

The exuva of a cicada (unidentified) found clinging to a leaf (20080817_11095)

What behemoth of diurnal adulthood springs forth in gloom to unwrap the clothing of childhood so that it might don the skin of the elders?

A southern flannel moth caterpillar (a.k.a. pussy moth, Bolivia bug, puss caterpillar or asp; Megalopyge opercularis) making its way from the upper branches of my photinia bushes to the safety of shade within the dense foliage (20080810_10853)

What flightless flier shields its childhood upon the underbelly of leaves and inside the grasp of sunless vegetation?

A young female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) who has taken up residence on the ceiling of the pigpen at the family farm (20080809_10547)

What mother-to-be satisfies her hunger and plans her children’s future in that place where no light shall ever fall?

A yellow-crowned night-heron (Nyctanassa violacea) perched in the treetops as I passed beneath (20080722_09928)

What predator seeks shelter amongst the dense cover of trees while still mastering the hunt lying before it?

A mushroom (unidentified) with a drop of dew resting between it and a blade of grass (20080614_06544)

What whole being finds itself birthed, matured, given to offspring and caught by death all within the place defined by sunup to sundown, a total life spent in fear of the world of days and longing for the world of nights?

A juvenile toad (Bufo valliceps or Bufo nebulifer) crossing the path in front of me (20080713_09770)

What tiny animal, one no larger than my thumbnail, peruses the unwritten future and exists within the pressing now by succumbing to nocturnal demands that keep it hidden from eyes that cannot see in the dark?

A black carpenter ant (Camponotus pennsylvanicus) milling about on the surface of its nest hidden within the trunk of a tree (20080704_09170)

What large insect scampers diligently in a world devoid of illumination whilst simultaneously facing the dawn with utmost bravery and determination?

We—we humans—are creatures of light, diurnal monsters upon the face of a planet made of perpetual change, one given to fits of brightness so profound as to be blinding and fits of darkness so deep as to be swallowers of whole worlds.

Inhabitants of the shadow realm know not the world we know, and few of them dare invade it, yet equally we of the world of light can never understand that which comes in the darkness, that which feeds on the dim surface of another planet, one both alien and familiar.

Our senses cannot take us there, cannot protect us in that place.

I wonder how much living we fail to notice, fail to understand, simply because we do not possess the faculties to invade that space.

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

[1] A female green anole (Anolis carolinensis) hunting amongst the branches of verdant shrubs.

[2] A mushroom (unidentified) that joined its brethren in a one-day grow-a-thon outside my patio when days of rain finally gave way to calmer weather.

[3] The exuva of a cicada (unidentified) found clinging to a leaf. Amazing that such a creature found sufficient leverage on the flimsy support of a single leaf…

[4] A southern flannel moth caterpillar (a.k.a. pussy moth, Bolivia bug, puss caterpillar or asp; Megalopyge opercularis) making its way from the upper branches of my photinia bushes to the safety of shade within the dense foliage.

[5] A young female black & yellow argiope (a.k.a. yellow garden spider; Argiope aurantia) who has taken up residence on the ceiling of the pigpen at the family farm. It’s quite easy to put one’s head right up against her web, if not against her directly, so be warned when stepping inside the pigpen: keep your head down unless you know what’s above you.

[6] A yellow-crowned night-heron (Nyctanassa violacea) perched in the treetops as I passed beneath.

[7] A common psathyrella mushroom (Psathyrella candolleana) with a drop of dew resting between it and a blade of grass.

[8] A juvenile toad (Bufo valliceps or Bufo nebulifer) crossing the path in front of me. It stopped when I stopped, and there we both stayed for a wee bit of time as I just looked at it, appreciated it for its youthful beauty.

[9] A black carpenter ant (Camponotus pennsylvanicus) milling about on the surface of its nest hidden within the trunk of a tree. Watching these large insects is quite fun, especially considering how clumsy they are on their own buildings.

We are Legion, for we are many (Part 3)

September 3, 2007 jason Leave a comment

One interesting aspect of the gigantic spider web at Lake Tawakoni State Park is that, like all other communal webs, the builders are not the only inhabitants of the structure. Generally speaking, social spiders often share their architectural wonders with many species of arachnids and insects alike. North Texas’ own majestic marvel is no different.

By and large, long-jawed orb weavers (of the genus Tetragnatha) make up the vast majority of inhabitants. Their numbers undoubtedly count in the millions. They are the rightful owners and occupiers of this adaptive, growing spectacle. In fact, walking through the web invites one to see these small spiders in mass quantities, whether that be in a blanket draped above your head or a writhing mass covering every inch of everything. They are the apparent masters of their new realm, and they are solely responsible for the enormous and constantly-changing creation.

Nevertheless, I discovered they share their home with all manner of kith and kin, both arachnid and insect alike. As I pointed out, such a thing is anticipated with communal webs such as this one, yet it never failed to amaze me each time I stumbled upon another squatter, another interloper who moved in and camped out in an abode built to house someone else.

A female Black & Yellow Argiope (a.k.a Yellow Garden Spider, Argiope aurantia) (209_0976)

The first visitor I discovered dwarfed her hosts by orders of magnitude. A female Black & Yellow Argiope (a.k.a Yellow Garden Spider, Argiope aurantia), another orb weaver, sat quietly in the middle of her web as the long-jawed orb weavers scurried all around her in their frantic yet organized construction. With their numbers so overwhelming, more than once I witnessed them chancing upon her web, yet she never moved nor made any indication that she would attack them—although I have no doubt she would. She could kill as many as she wanted, though, and would have no impact whatsoever on their overall numbers.

As I attempted to get a close-up of some leaves caught in the middle of webbing, this small spider hurried into view just as I snapped the photo, then it promptly scampered up onto the web and out of sight. While I’ve not identified the exact species in this case, I saw many of these scattered throughout the structure. In fact, I saw a handful of these kinds of large-bodied spiders sharing the web as well, although too often they were impossible to photograph.

Surprisingly, true insects had moved in as well. I discovered a type of mantis treating the web like they had always lived there. Unfortunately, they were so small and so well camouflaged that it was impossible to get photos of them. Their bodies were as thin as the web itself, so they could not be seen until they moved; otherwise, they blended in perfectly.

A Differential Grasshopper (Melanoplus differentialis) hiding in the massive spider web (210_1015)

Differential Grasshoppers (Melanoplus differentialis) seemed unconcerned with the web, often found resting within its midst and under cover of its thickest blanket. Although not the best photograph, you’ll even note in that image that the grasshopper shares the frame with a long-jawed orb weaver (bottom-left) and a kind of jumping spider (top-left). Not one of them seemed at all concerned about the others.

A Differential Grasshopper (Melanoplus differentialis) surrounded by spider web with two long-jawed orb weavers (of the genus Tetragnatha) nearby (210_1019)

That differential grasshopper enjoyed a perch completely shielded by webbing, but he was not alone. If you look closely, there are two long-jawed orb weavers lurking nearby. Both are hiding on the underside of leaves, one at top-left and another at bottom-left.

A slug caterpillar of the genus Euclea (210_1024)

I nearly overlooked this slug caterpillar of the genus Euclea (possibly Euclea delphinii or Euclea nanina, as both are presently indistinguishable from each other). Its position near the middle of a web-covered bush, in addition to its color, made it virtually impossible to see. Had I not been knelt down looking at a bit of web building, I would never have noticed it. It regrettably could not be photographed up close since a shroud of web encircled its position, so all I could do was put the camera as near the web as possible and try to focus through it.

A Differential Grasshopper (Melanoplus differentialis) hanging from a leaf (210_1033)

Yet another differential grasshopper minding its own business in the middle of an arachnid nightmare. This one clung easily to a leaf buried deep in the heart of spiderland. Thankfully, I found a rather convenient hole in the web that allowed me to put the camera quite near this insect without disturbing a single strand of silk.

A female Black & Yellow Argiope (a.k.a Yellow Garden Spider, Argiope aurantia) (210_1031)

A mere five steps from the first one, I then discovered this second and much larger Black & Yellow Argiope. Her web placed her at knee level. Despite the growing throng of people that had appeared by then, and despite many of them getting quite near her to snap some photos, she never moved and never displayed even the smallest bit of interest in all the goings on. She had three egg sacks hidden in the bush from which her web dangled. They were impossible to photograph due to the impenetrable webbing that covered the whole of the plant.

[more images and observations to follow in Part 4, the last of this series]

[Update] The second photo shows a bronze jumping spider (Eris militaris). The jumping spider in the top-left corner of the third photo is a bold jumping spider (Phidippus audax).