From Jumpers to Giants: The Spider That Started It All

The world of eight-legged creatures first captivated me through jumping spiders. There was something about those tiny, intelligent-looking eyes and their curious little personalities that really caught my attention. Before long, I was completely fascinated by them and wanted to learn more about the wider world of invertebrates.

Of course, once I'd got interested in jumping spiders, it didn't take long before I started looking at other arachnids. And eventually, I found myself thinking about tarantulas.

I wanted something bigger. Something that would be a bit more of a challenge.

So, I started researching.

It wasn't quite an impulse buy. I watched far too many YouTube videos, read care sheets and spent a lot of time trawling through websites trying to work out which species would be suitable for a first-time keeper. One name kept coming up: the Mexican Red Knee, Brachypelma hamorii. They were striking to look at and generally considered to be a good species for beginners.

And that was how I found Dagda.

At the time, I obviously had no idea that this one spider would eventually lead to a collection of more than forty tarantulas and the creation of KT's A.R.C.

The Grand Arrival: Welcoming Dagda

I eventually found a reputable online company selling juvenile Brachypelma hamorii, and they had a starter setup available as well. It seemed like a good way to get everything I needed in one go, so I placed the order.

Then came the waiting.

A few days later, a large box arrived containing both Dagda and his new home. Inside was a spacious critter keeper, a block of dehydrated substrate, a hide, a small water dish and, most importantly, a little plastic container with "B. hamorii" written on it.

I couldn't meet him yet because I had to get the enclosure ready first.

I rehydrated the substrate block and filled the critter keeper to around four inches deep. I put the hide and water dish in place, then added a piece of wood and some leaf litter because that's what I'd seen other keepers doing in their setups.

Everything was ready.

I had also gathered my equipment for the transfer: long feeding tongs, a soft paintbrush and an empty catch cup. I had watched enough tarantula rehousing videos by this point to know that things could potentially go wrong very quickly.

I sat on my bedroom floor with the enclosure in front of me and opened the little plastic container.

The first thing I saw was his backside.

More specifically, his big, rounded, fluffy butt and two back feet.

He was facing completely the wrong way.

I remember just sitting there for a moment thinking, Well, this isn't going quite how I imagined it.

I decided not to try turning him around in the little container. Instead, I carefully removed the whole piece of tissue paper he was curled up in and placed that into his new enclosure.

The tissue unfolded and Dagda was still curled up inside it.

I used the tongs and paintbrush to slowly work the folds apart. I was expecting him to make a run for it at any moment, or at least raise his legs in a threat pose.

He didn't.

He just stayed there, trying to make himself as small as possible.

That actually made me feel much more relaxed.

I gently turned the tissue so his front legs were pointing towards the hide, then used the paintbrush to lightly encourage his back legs. Slowly, he started to uncurl.

He walked towards the hide.

That was it.

No mad dash across the enclosure. No dramatic attempt at escape. Just a very large spider slowly making his way into his new home.

Once he was tucked away and the lid was safely secured, I sat there watching the entrance to his hide for a while.

I'd finally got my first tarantula.

Life with Dagda: A Personality Unfolds

More than four years have passed since that first day, and Dagda has turned out to have quite a few little habits.

He's generally a calm spider, although he's still capable of reminding me that he's a tarantula. Sudden movements or vibrations can sometimes result in a quick kick of urticating hairs.

He's also not particularly interested in interior design.

Some tarantulas seem to spend their lives digging, moving substrate around and rearranging everything their keeper has carefully put in place. Dagda doesn't bother much with that. He seems quite happy with his enclosure as it is.

What he does like is wandering around.

I'll often find him slowly making his way around the enclosure, apparently inspecting things. Sometimes he'll spend ages walking around the same areas he's already explored plenty of times before.

Then there's food.

Dagda is a very good eater. He'll happily take crickets or locusts, and watching him catch his food is one of my favourite things.

He's also developed a strange little habit afterwards.

I call it his "happy dance".

Once he's got hold of his meal, he'll sometimes stand up high on his legs and slowly spin around in a circle. I have absolutely no idea what he's actually doing, but it always makes me laugh.

He's also very fond of warmth.

When the room gets colder and the heater comes on, he'll move over to the side of his enclosure nearest the heat and flatten himself against it. He can stay there looking completely content for ages.

And he does seem to know when I'm there.

Quite often, when I walk into the room, Dagda will eventually come out and sit at the front of his enclosure. Sometimes he'll position himself so that his legs and abdomen are right where I can see them.

I like to imagine he's showing off.

After all, he was here first.

The Magic of the Molt

For the first few years, Dagda was very private about his molts.

He'd disappear into his hide, I'd know he'd gone through the process because he'd eventually reappear looking bigger, and that was about as much as I got to see.

More recently, he's started molting out in the open.

The first sign is usually that he stops eating. He'll then start putting down more web, eventually making himself a thick mat to molt on.

Then comes the part that still makes me slightly nervous every time I see it.

He flips onto his back.

The first time I saw him do it, I remember thinking that something had gone horribly wrong. Obviously, I knew what was happening, but seeing your tarantula lying motionless on its back is still a strange thing to get used to.

After a while, a split appears along the top of his carapace.

Then the old exoskeleton starts to come away.

The whole process is surprisingly slow. You can actually watch his legs gradually working their way out of the old skin. Every so often there's another little movement and a bit more of the new body appears.

Eventually all eight legs are free.

He'll then curl himself up while he rests, and once he's ready, he'll slowly turn back over.

After that, he doesn't do much. He just sits there while his new exoskeleton hardens.

It's an amazing thing to watch, particularly when you remember that underneath that old skin is a completely new version of the same spider.

Dagda has taught me a lot about tarantulas simply because I've spent so much time watching him.

I've learned to notice how he uses his pedipalps when he's investigating things, how the hairs on his body help him sense what's happening around him and how he reacts to vibrations through the substrate.

His molts have also given me the chance to learn how to sex him by examining the shed exoskeleton.

It's funny how much you can learn just by paying attention to one animal over a long period of time.

A Different Kind of Bond

Dagda doesn't really have a daily routine in the way Tilly and Apopse do.

There are days when he's wandering around his enclosure and days when he barely seems to move. Sometimes he'll be out in the open for hours. Other times I won't see him at all.

He's a very different kind of pet.

My bond with him isn't the same as the relationship I have with a cat or even a reptile. I don't pretend that Dagda knows me or feels attached to me. He's a tarantula. He's following instinct, looking for food and responding to what's happening around him.

But that doesn't mean I don't care about him.

Quite the opposite.

There's something very special about looking after an animal like Dagda and knowing that I'm responsible for giving him a safe, suitable environment while being able to watch him behave in ways that I'd never get to see in the wild.

There was a little bit of disappointment when I eventually confirmed that Dagda was male. Not because I didn't want a male, but because male tarantulas generally don't live as long as females.

After having him for more than four years, I obviously hope I have plenty of time left with him.

Unveiling the Brachypelma hamorii

Dagda's individual personality is what makes him special to me, but his species has a fascinating natural history too.

Brachypelma hamorii is native to Mexico, with its known distribution primarily in the states of Colima and Michoacán. It is a terrestrial species and can make use of burrows and natural shelters for protection, particularly when it needs somewhere safe to molt.

Like other tarantulas, it's an ambush predator. Rather than chasing prey around, it can sit and wait for something edible to come close enough to grab.

And although they have a reputation for being calm, they're still wild animals with the instincts that come with that.

There's also an important conservation issue surrounding the species.

Brachypelma hamorii is listed as Vulnerable on the IUCN Red List and is included in CITES Appendix II. Wild collection and international trade are regulated, which makes responsible captive breeding particularly important.

For me, that's another reason why researching where a tarantula comes from matters. Buying from a reputable captive breeder isn't just about getting a healthy animal. It also means supporting captive-bred populations rather than contributing to demand for wild-collected spiders.

The Spider That Started It All

When I think back to bringing Dagda home, it's funny to remember how nervous I was.

I was sitting on my bedroom floor with a brand-new enclosure, a collection of tools I'd bought specifically for the occasion, and a tiny plastic tub containing a tarantula who was determined to show me his backside first.

I had no idea what I was doing beyond what I'd learned from videos and care sheets.

Now, more than four years later, Dagda is still here.

He's still wandering around his enclosure. He still does his odd little happy dance after a good meal. He still moves towards the heater when the room gets cold, and every so often he'll come and sit at the front of his enclosure as though he's waiting for me to notice him.

And that one spider ended up leading me to more than forty tarantulas and eventually to KT's A.R.C.

I never expected that when I opened that little plastic container for the first time.

Dagda was my first tarantula.

He's also the spider that started it all.