
Winona really thinks she can hide, I think. … Until I find her, that is, and she knows she’s found, and seen. She doesn’t know she’s loved, but that’s OK. π

Winona really thinks she can hide, I think. … Until I find her, that is, and she knows she’s found, and seen. She doesn’t know she’s loved, but that’s OK. π

‘Tis the season for tarantulas to look for mates, and this little fellow (they’re the ones who do the looking) was crossing Disappointment Road recently on just such a mission.

I stopped for a hopeful introduction (not like THAT!), but he was singleminded in his search, and clearly, my giant blue and yellow-leather glove did not at all look like what he was looking for. π
According to the Google machine:
Every fall, thousands of male Oklahoma brown tarantulas wander across southeastern Colorado to search for mates.
What is Happening
When and Where to Watch
Safety and Facts
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I’m glad I didn’t call it a migration! They’re on a *mating trek*. π
I even searched for “Southwest Colorado” tarantulas and got almost the same info as above with this addition: “often called Colorado browns.” And this disclaimer (?): “Tarantula mating season happens every fall in southeastern Colorado (near La Junta and the Comanche National Grassland), rather than in the southwest part of the state.” Um. With all due respect, monsieur Google, they ARE doing the same thing over here, and they do it every year.
It’s a *thing*, and I look forward to seeing the little guys. And while I watch carefully for them on the gravel and paved roads, it’s not always easy to avoid the poor critters. Wherever they are, watch for them and wish them well and lucky in love!
Actually, curious about how long that “luck” extends after mating, I put my musings to Google (aware that it’s already let me down by (as so many do) ignoring Southwest Colorado):
No, female tarantulas do not automatically kill the males after mating, though it absolutely can happen. The idea that a female always eats her mate is a common myth that is often exaggerated.
Whether a male survives depends on a mix of survival mechanics, biology, and timing:
The Mechanics of Survival
During mating, male tarantulas are fully aware of the danger. They have evolved physical adaptations specifically designed to keep them alive:
Why a Female Might Attack
If the male isn’t fast enough, or if the female is highly aggressive, sexual cannibalism does occur:
Ultimately, in the wild, many males successfully escape to find another mate. However, even if they escape the female, a male’s lifespan after reaching maturity is exceptionally short β usually less than a year βas they quickly succumb to exhaustion, predators, or the elements.
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I hope that gave you a bit of a chuckle while reading. I particularly appreciated that “the moment he finishes, he releases her and runs away as fast as possible before she can react”! And also, “if the female hasn’t eaten recently, she simply (simply!) views the male as a highly convenient food source”! I mean … the ladies are definitely at the top of the tarantula world, eh?!
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Hurricane Polo finally came through for us here in Southwest Colorado (speaking of being ignored, I watched a Denver weather woman nearly completely ignore us while talking about the rain coming into Colorado from Arizona and New Mexico via the hurricane; the closest she got was a brief mention of “the San Juans,” the mountain range east of our actual southwestern-most corner; she absolutely ignored the Western Slope and northwestern Colorado).
The soft, gentle, “female” rain as the DinΓ© (Navajo) call it is an absolute godsend. Maybe it will still give us some growth this fall. … We can hope (we’re pretty good at hope here in the Southwest :)).

Yes! That’s rain! That’s a kestrel in the rain! And if you look closely, you can see some raindrops bouncing off his shoulder.
What a gorgeous little splash of feathery autumn orange on a dreary β and utterly, gloriously WET β day!
Thank you, Hurricane Polo!

About a week ago, I was out with Flash’s band. They were browsing, and I was trying to catch a pic of them among the flowering chamisa (rabbitbrush), but no one was cooperating with heads high enough to see at least eyes. … I mean, didn’t they know I was trying to take *pictures*?! π (Tis the season of rabbitbrush in the low country, which gives us our fall color as opposed to the showy aspen of the high country and the cottonwoods along the riparian ways.) Flash browsed along with them, until he sort of purposely marched off.

Not far away, he stopped, then turned back to look at his mares.
And I think he was saying, “Time to go for water, ladies.”
But the ladies were not done browsing, and not one of them paid him any mind at all.

He came back … went away again … still ignored. Interestingly, he seemed to want them to follow, and he never did move them (snake them) ahead. He waited, patiently (?), and I slipped away to leave them to their browsing and water-finding (they were immediately east of a deep-and-wide drainage).

Sweet, beautiful old (she’s not really thaaat old β 18) Gaia looking glam with her single, thick braid. Lovely darling girl.

Once again, Chipeta let the band wander away (they weren’t too far ahead of her), then put on a spurt of the dramatics as she trotted her way back to them in the brief light from the almost-setting sun in a little open cloud window against a stormy sky to the south.
One of those lucky catches by the camera before she was obscured by the trees between us. π

Maiku had a hand β err, hoof β in the momentary situation that resulted in Rowan moving along in yesterday’s post.

Both bands were grazing close to a boundary fence where the grass was (is) good and untouched after most of the season when they’d all (the whole herd) been grazing elsewhere in Spring Creek Basin. Add a bit of recent rain to touch up the green, and more than a couple of wandering bands found this good area, which meant that I found *them*. π
(There was no contact between either horses or fence.)

The poor pinon tree shows the effects of this summer’s terrible drought (in a long stretch of years of drought), but behind Chipeta, rain was moving across the southeastern/eastern horizon while the sun was setting, shining a lovely bit of light on her.
The forecast was wrong again; we GOT rain yesterday. I love it when it’s wrong in the positive. π