Sal moved in when the first Peony bud opened up. When home begins to wilt Sal just moves to the next blossom. Sal's days consist of sitting completely still with arms outstretched waiting for some hapless and unlucky bee to fly within reach. Sal is obviously not big on the camouflage idea. I never saw Sal with a bug in hand. I wonder if Sal could use some pointers. Like being yellow and living in a red forest may not be the best hunting tactic.
When bothered by my clumsy attempts to get a closer look, Sal does not back down. An aggressive little squatter, Sal pumps itself up and throws those little spider arms as if to say, "Dude, one step closer, it's beat down city!"
I named Sal Sal because I am not totally sure which side of the gender fence Sal hails from. Being a spider, there is a good chance Sal is a lady. Drawing on my weak memory of biology class, Discovery Channel bug expose's, and the occaisional National Geographic insect extravaganza, I seem to remember that guy spiders generally have a have a tough row to hoe in the arachnid world. They are puny providers of genetic material and then become a handy taste treat for the Missus. Sort of like my brother's 3rd wife. So Sal is most likely a her. But I hedged my bets by using a name that could bat either way.
Sal will be moving to greener pastures soon. The last Peony blossom just opened up. I wish Sal all the luck in the World. And all my condolences to her late mate. He may have been the only meal Sal could catch.