Fauna of Japan, Part 1: Spidera vs. Mecha-Cicada!

Something that's still taking getting used to about living abroad is adjusting to seeing new plants and animals in daily life -- it shouldn't be that strange, really, but every now and then I realize that I haven't seen a dandelion in months. At least I have trees with odd, somewhat sinister-looking leaves to keep me company!

For some reason this makes me think of Cheetoes. The mind's a mysterious thing, huh?

I've never been much of a plant guy, though; I like my wildlife to run, fly, and shoot electricity from its eyes (regional). Fortunately, I happen to live on the Japanese island of Honshu -- so named because "Giant Spider Island" was already taken -- where the insect life is plentiful and f'in terrifying.

We had cockroaches living in our house for awhile, but we managed to come to an agreement wherein they would stay out of sight and die horrible, horrible deaths. Also living under our roof are tiny, inoffensive-looking spiders that have an unfortunate tendency to jump with the proportionate speed and agility of Spider-Man. Plus, small greenish beetles (I call them "Japanese Beetles" because, well, hell, why not?) that emit clouds of musty stank when they're threatened, squashed, insecure, hungry, playful, or apathetic. They can also fly.

But the bugs that live with us rent-free are not nearly so scary or interesting as the bugs that live outside (hence the lack of pictures). I'm told that Japanese spiders contain poison that is non-deadly to humans, but the poison seems a little unnecessary anyway considering they can just crush small children to death with five legs tied behind their back.


Look on this photo, America (etc.), and know fear. Spiderwebs, as well you know, are invisible -- these things are, exaggeration aside (for once), about the size of a cigarette lighter from end to end, and they hang in the air on invisible sticky death-traps.


I realize that the perspective in this photo doesn't make the spider look all that big -- appallingly neon-green, sure, but not huge -- until you realize that it has an entire car wrapped in its web. The picture is blurry because of my tears of abject horror.

But it's not all spiders over here; there are also colossal centipedes:

Not pictured: the centipede's dining car and caboose.

In Japan, they like to talk about how Japan has four seasons. Like, constantly. I was puzzled by this oddly boastful claim for some time before I realized that it's Japan's way of keeping a stiff upper lip in the face of horrible seasonal plagues. "Yes, four distinct seasons!" they shout over the sound of construction-grade cicadas to steaming, sweating gaijin.

Again, we have a bit of a perspective problem here, so here are the same two dead cicadas next to Jenn's hand:

I would have used my own hand, but as you may know, my hands are so small that the cicadas would have appeared dishonestly big. Trick photography, y'know.

We've managed to keep all of these bugs out the door for now, but really, it's only a matter of time before they learn to work the knob. They are kept in check only by Japan's naturally-occurring ecosystem of horrible man-made poisons.