Harvestmen are not spiders. They are classified as opiliones and share nothing in common with those other arachnids. They don’t bite. They don’t spin webs (nor do they produce silk of any sort.) They don’t see very well, and so they’re poor hunters, though they’ve been known to hunt on occasion; they are largely omnivorous scavengers with a particularly developed taste for bird drops. When threatened, they are as likely to play dead as to bounce and jiggle menacingly. If you’re insufficiently frightened by this, they will resort to scent-bombing the region, but this doesn’t work if you’re any larger than an insect. Harvestmen are also among the most mysterious of creatures. They are largely ignored by science, and those who make a study of harvestmen are often frustrated by the unusual frailty of such creatures. It has been stated that when one studies a harvestman, one is relegated to studying only its legs. They tend to lose their legs with alarming regularity and capturing such a creature by any manual means usually leads to damage. The belief that harvestman legs are all that there is to study is something of a scientific double-entendre. Though harvestmen lose their legs a bit too easily, their legs are also incredibly fascinating. Unlike spiders, harvestmen possess only a single body part, aside from their legs. Head, thorax, and abdomen are fused into one oblong shape. Unlike spiders, they don’t possess fangs. They don’t produce venom. Unlike spiders, they possess only two simple eyes on either side of a knob-like turret situated near the middle of their backs. Their eyes cannot resolve images and so their function is relegated to sensing motion and differences between light and dark. Unlike spiders, harvestmen are somewhat social, often congregating and inter-linking their legs in what is believed to function as defensive behavior. A dozen harvestmen stinking in unison will, in theory, keep predators at bay. Because of their poor eyesight and lack of antennae or other sensing organs, harvestmen make extensive use of their oh-so-frail legs. In nearly every species of opilione, the second (longest) pair of legs are often used in order to sense vibrations, and other sensory data; the loss of one or more of their “second legs” will not only impede a harvestman’s ability to walk, but to also sense its surroundings. There are more afferential (sensory processing) nerves in a harvestman’s second pair of legs than in the rest of the critter’s rather compact body. Needless to say, I find such creatures to be strangely fascinating: I think it’s those near-useless eyes on top of a stubby little periscope, or their mouth appendages like miniature arms tipped in the tiniest little hands one might ever see…with a microscope. I find their bobbing motions quite amusing, though I must admit that most harvestmen I’ve seen were far more interested in playing dead rather than bouncing in an effort to chase me away. Because of their habit of playing dead, they’re quite easy to photograph, which also explains why I now have more pictures of a single harvestman than of multiple sowbugs busily scurrying around a particular truck yard now oozing with truck drippings, mud, and mosquito-breeding puddles. And of course, there were woodlice. This is the same charming opilione (harvestman/daddy longlegs) I’d posted earlier, and on the same bit of wet dental chair seat stuffing. I wanted a shot of its “eye-turret” and I’m quite pleased that you can see it here, if you zoom. As I’d mentioned, this particular specimen of opilione grace was quite interested in playing dead, and so I was almost able to move him around. I felt he (she?) should keep his (her?) legs and so I didn’t directly touch the cute little thing. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a fantastic week.