
Can a spider poo? A mother turned to Facebook seeking guidance as she expressed her confusion over discovering a set of black droppings scattered throughout her home. Posting on a Mrs. Hinch fan page, she shared a series of images revealing peculiar black specks along her skirting board and wall.

“Anyone have any idea what this is?” She asked. “Just appeared this last week or so on the skirting board in my dining room, also bits on the wallpaper and the floor which gets mopped every day! It’s not bumpy, it looks like some sort of paint splatter but it isn’t.” She continued.

Followers came back with a common answer – Spider Poo

Fellow enthusiasts of Mrs. Hinch promptly came to the rescue, with users confidently asserting that the markings were indeed spider droppings. One wrote: “It happens a lot this time of year, spiders pooing everywhere, Dettox spray is good for it.” While another said: “It’s spider poo after they’ve eaten flies. I get it on my window sill.” Others said it could have been “fly poo” while one user was adamant, it was “spider poo for defs”.
What do the experts say?
According to various sources offering advice on pests, spiders typically do not leave solid droppings; instead, their excrement is thick and liquid in consistency, resembling dark ink stains. These markings often appear on walls and surfaces.
Spider feces are not solid; instead, they appear as dark stains or drips on walls and surfaces. The specific appearance of the droppings varies among spider species, making it challenging for the untrained eye to distinguish.
Typically, spider poop accumulates in a specific location below their web, often in corners with cobwebs on walls. Since spiders seek dark or undisturbed places for refuge, their droppings may unexpectedly appear in various locations. The size of spider droppings is approximately that of a pinhead, and they exhibit a monotone color, with variations in white, black, gray, or brown hues.
Is spider poo dangerous to handle?
While spider poop is not proven to transmit pathogens, it is advisable to treat it with caution and handle it as if it were potentially toxic. Studies indicate that pathogens ingested by spiders do not typically pass on through their droppings.
Nevertheless, it’s important to exercise caution and thoroughly wash hands with soap and water after handling spider feces. Cleaning fresh spider droppings is easier, while dried ones may require more effort to remove and may leave behind yellow stains.
It’s essential to note that cleaning up spider poop does not eliminate the spiders responsible for it. To prevent the reappearance of droppings, taking action against these creatures is necessary. Maintaining a highly tidy environment and removing every spider web you encounter is a good starting point. There are also products available to assist with infestations, and professional pest control services are well-equipped to handle such situations.
My husband wanted a divorce because I couldn’t give him a son. What happened next changed our lives forever.

Marriage had always been a partnership of love and support, or at least that’s what I believed when Steve and I first tied the knot 16 years ago. Over time, we were blessed with five beautiful daughters, each one a joy and a challenge in her own way. Yet, in Steve’s eyes, our family lacked something crucial: a son.
Steve’s desire for a male heir became an obsession, overshadowing every happy moment we had. His traditional mindset dictated that a man’s legacy could only be carried on by a son, and our daughters, no matter how wonderful, were seen as inadequate. This belief had eaten away at the fabric of our marriage, turning our once joyous union into a battleground of unmet expectations and silent resentment.
Steve’s job kept him away most of the time, leaving me to juggle the responsibilities of raising our daughters, maintaining the household, and managing a part-time online job. His absence wasn’t just physical; it was emotional too. He was a shadow in our home, present yet distant, and his discontent seeped into every corner of our lives.
The Breaking Point
One late night, a seemingly innocent conversation spiraled into a full-blown argument. I had suggested trying one more time for a son, even though I was already forty. Steve’s response was brutal and laced with years of pent-up frustration.

“Shut up already,” he snapped. “We’ve been together for 16 years and you couldn’t bring me a son. What makes you think you will do it this time?”
I tried to reason with him, “But Steve, only God…”
“ONLY GOD DECIDED TO PUNISH ME WITH YOU AND ANOTHER 5 FEMALES,” he yelled, his face contorted with anger. “I wish I could go back in time and change everything.”
The venom in his words was palpable, and it stung more than any physical blow could. Our daughters, our life together, everything we had built was being torn down in this moment of raw emotion. Suddenly, we heard a noise behind the door. When we checked, there was no one there, and we dismissed it as the creaking of an old house. Little did we know, that sound was a harbinger of the events that would soon unfold.
The Missing Child
The next day, our lives took an unexpected turn. It was 6 pm, and Lisa, our 12-year-old, was always home by this time. Panic set in when she didn’t show up. As worry gnawed at us, Sara, our second-born, came running with tears streaming down her face, clutching a letter.
Steve snatched the letter from her hand and began reading. His face went ashen, his eyes widened with fear. He turned to me, his voice trembling, “This is serious.”
The letter was a ransom note. It claimed that Lisa had been kidnapped and demanded an exorbitant amount of money for her safe return. The instructions were clear: no police, no tricks, or we’d never see her again.
The Race Against Time
Our world was shattered. The next hours were a blur of frantic phone calls, desperate plans, and heart-wrenching decisions. Steve, usually stoic and composed, was a mess. His obsession with having a son seemed insignificant now compared to the possibility of losing his daughter.
The experience taught us that the value of family isn’t determined by gender but by the love, respect, and support we give each other. Steve learned to cherish his daughters and our marriage, realizing that true happiness comes from within and is nurtured by the bonds we share.
Our lives were forever changed by that harrowing experience, but it also brought us closer, forging a stronger, more resilient family. The past year had been incredibly tough, but it led to a new beginning, one where we could all be truly happy together.
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