As I was wandering along the edge of a small prairie today, I saw something stuck to a grass stem. I only half noticed it as I walked past because I was looking at something else at the time. The piece of my brain that did notice it first interpreted it as a piece of cow manure that had gotten stuck on the grass on the way down. (I know it’s gross, but it was my honest reaction.) Upon second look, I saw it was a leaf that had been folded together and apparently stuck together with silk.

Well, that was intriguing, so I took a couple photos of it and then pried it open to see what was inside. The inhabitant was a small jumping spider. The spider appeared dead – all its legs were tightly curled up and it didn’t respond when I touched it. Maybe it really was dead, but I think it’s more likely it was in a state of diapause (dormancy).

Spiders, like many other invertebrates, have the ability to pause their development and greatly reduce their metabolism in order to survive long winters with no food. In addition, at least many spiders can produce compounds in their blood that act as anti-freeze and keep them from freezing solid. I’m guessing the jumping spider I saw had been comfortably (?) wrapped in its silk-lined winter retreat until I ripped it open.

Well, of course, I felt bad about peeling open the spider’s lodging, but I was also glad to learn what was inside. That poor spider had probably worked really hard to drag that leaf all the way up that grass stem – over 2 feet off the ground – and then attach it to the stem and sew together its shelter. Why so high off the ground? Does that protect it from predators? So many questions…

I did my best to stick everything back together and wished the spider good luck before leaving it to its winter rest.

Last year, I started what I hoped would become a long-running tradition on this blog: an annual prairie limerick challenge. I asked all of you to help me remember to do it again this year. Guess how many of you did so? Exactly none.

Despite that, I’m forging ahead with year two of the Prairie Limerick Challenge. Thank you to Pete’s Plants for once again sponsoring this event (see their ad at the bottom of this page).

Prairies, of course, are deserving of epic poems, or at least adoring sonnets – but who has the time to write those? Besides, prairies are among the most underappreciated, and even derided of ecosystems by snobs who think nature has to have towering trees or waterfalls in order to be beautiful. With that in mind, the limerick seems the perfect poetic form with which to celebrate prairies.

The rules of this challenge are simple. Write a limerick that has a prairie(ish?) theme and submit it below in the comments section of this post. I’ll select some of my favorites and highlight them in next week’s post. You have until midnight on December 1, 2019 to make your submission. Feel free to submit as many as you like.

Remember that limericks do have a particular format to them. This website might be helpful to those who are unsure of the ‘rules’ of limerick writing.

Here is an example limerick I wrote that might help get your creative juices flowing:

Some religions build churches with spires
And then worship with hymns sung by choirs
We build prairies from seeds
And then honor our deeds
With singing? Nope – big roaring fires

Or this one, which might be appreciated only by those who hang around with botanists:

A botanist out in the prairie
Once posed a most interesting query
He held out a flower
And asked with a glower
“Is that peduncle glabrous or hairy??”

I look forward to reading your submissions. Thanks in advance for your work!

(Sorry, everyone, Pete’s Plants is a fictional company. Mostly, I needed an excuse to use the “give Pete’s a chance” phrase.)