*The following article was originally posted on a Web board by James. In the thread someone had posted an image of a very large spider and was asking if anyone knew anything about it.

The image looks like a photo of a spider the locals here in Florida call "the huntsman". The bigger ones will only grow to be about as large as an adult's hand. They are exceptionally nasty looking and remind me too much of the face hugger in the movie Alien.

Two years and five months ago our rental home became infested with them. (At least a dozen of the nasty things have been removed or terminated..) Since then, I still encounter one every couple of months.

The following is a list of facts about the spider as I have come to know it:

1. They will chase a man sized creature without hesitation. In Celtic mythos there is a demi-god that is referred to as the Huntsman. I do not think that it is too far of a reach to assume that this is where the spider gets its name. In Celtic legend, once the Huntsman as chosen you as his quarry, he will chase you to death. The story is pretty much the same for the spider.

2. To date I only know of one full grown man that did not scream like a little girl the first time he saw one. (The only reason that I did not scream was because I still have the residue of a more primal defense mechanism wired into my system. While a more evolved man might make a lot of noise to frighten an attacker or warn the rest of the tribe, I was too busy trying to remain perfectly still and to make myself the same color as the bathroom tile.)

3. Only two solid blows from something like a hard-soled shoe or a toilet plunger is not enough to stop or kill them. But a third is usually enough to at least make them give up the chase. (I do not recommend trying this because they are quick and difficult to hit ... you will probably die of heart failure or exhaustion before you can hit it three times.)

4. They do NOT negotiate!

5. They are heavy enough that you will hear an audible thump when they drop to the floor to chase you. You can also hear them run across a sheetrock wall or cabinet door.

6. They do not respond to reason or any amount of pleading.

7. The best way to take one out is to heavily spray it three or four times with Wasp & Hornet spray. (see *NOTE*) This will not kill it, but the nerve agent in the spray will slow it down. While it is in this mode you beat it over and over again until it stops moving (5 to 27 good blows with a solid object) then you scoop it up in something and flush it down the toilet or bury it in the backyard.

*NOTE* Do not bother with spider spray or any other kind of insect spray. ONLY Wasp & Hornet spray. The other kinds do not do much good and the spider can get a fix on your exact location based on the direction of the spray. I have personally hit one with so much spider spray that it became covered with frost from the propellant. The only difference was that I then was being chased by an even freakier, all white, spawn of Hell instead of the usual brown one.

There is a legend among my family and friends about a certain person's encounter with one of the creatures. One morning after a nice hot shower, I pulled back the shower curtain to see a medium sized version of the beast (about a four inch span) resting on my towel. Of course I was completely naked and like any male of my species, I understood the immediate peril of the most favored parts of my anatomy. I quickly scanned the area and found that the only weapon in reach was a half-full shampoo bottle. By then I had enough experience in battle with the things to understand that hitting them with anything that weighed less than two pounds was the equivalent of saying, "Tag! You're it." in spider talk, so I didn't bother. That left me with only one alternative: mortal, hand-to-hand combat. I had to get it... before it got to any of my more sensitive parts.

During my adolescence I trained in Judo, during college: Jujitsu and Kung-Fu, after that, ten years of medieval martial arts and saber fencing. In the bathroom that day… naked and alone... I used it all.

Eventually I emerged victorious. I had defeated my foe and the bathroom now needed remodeling. But that was a small price to pay.

I wanted to take the thing to a taxidermist so that it could be displayed like the head of a lion or a prize buck, but Mrs. Bennett just didn't understand. Instead, the evidence of my rank as a slayer of monsters and the proof of my rightful place at the top of the food chain had to be flushed.

But it isn't as bad as all that. I know that the story is being carried on in an oral tradition like those of our forefathers. It may not be a part of the lore told around the campfire by the tribal shaman, but the other day my son-in-law and a few of his friends were working on a car at my place... As I walked away, after handing out some free advice on the nature of lift-springs, I heard my son-in-law say, "He once took out a huntsman ... with his bare hands!" His friends made a few noises of awe and then promptly followed my suggestions on the automotive repairs. After all, the opinions of a warrior should be given a certain amount of respect.