Tarantula-Infested Cacti and Brain-Eating Bugs:
Arthropods in Urban Legends
by Judy Johnson
Several years ago I was approached by a friend who sheepishly related an amazing story. Although she had been told that the story was factual, she was skeptical, and wanted my entomological opinion. It seems that a woman had purchased a potted cactus. Several days later, the plant began to make a humming noise, almost inaudible at first, but gradually increasing in volume. At some point, the cactus began to vibrate rapidly, which so unnerved the woman that she called 911. After hearing her predicament, the emergency operator urged the woman to take the plant outside immediately and then retire to a safe distance. The woman followed the instructions, quickly carrying the now gyrating succulent to her front lawn, and then retreated to the safety of her porch. Soon, emergency personnel arrived dressed in thick protective clothing. Before they could gather up the plant, the jitter-bugging cactus split in two, releasing hundreds of young, deadly tarantulas into the woman's yard.
After first gaining some control over my laughter, I told my friend that I was pretty sure that it was some type of urban legend, and that the reproductive habits of tarantulas did not include using cacti as incubators, nor were tarantulas deadly. She said that she had thought as much, and admitted that the story had been told as something that had happened to "a friend of a friend", a classic urban legend tip-off.
My friend's story had served to renew my interest in urban legends, and I resolved to see if the tarantula-infested cactus story was listed as an urban legend. Sure enough, I was able to locate a discussion of it in Brunvand's The Mexican Pet, under the topic of 'Contaminations'. While some elements of the story may vary, certain details are consistent. There is always a plant, usually a yucca or cactus, and sometimes the source of the plant, a nursery or furniture store, is identified by name. The plant always moves or makes a noise. Some authority is called, usually the store or nursery that had sold the plant. The authority is always horrified, and tells the homeowner to leave the house or to remove the plant. Emergency personnel arrive, either firemen, paramedics or specialists from the nursery, dressed in protective gear. The story always ends with hundreds of little spiders or scorpions emerging from the plant, with the implication that eggs had just hatched, causing the plant to move and eventually burst.
I first became aware of urban legends when a relative received Jan Brunvand's first urban legend book, The Vanishing Hitchhiker. Later, when I began to gather examples of "cultural entomology" for a presentation at an educational workshop, I realized that arthropods are often the subject of classic urban legends. I have since collected all of Brunvand's books, and am always on the lookout for new versions of the standard tales. The concept of an urban legend is relatively simple, although the forms they take and the ways they are transmitted are incredibly diverse.
According to an Internet newgroup dedicated to the topic, an urban legend: appears mysteriously and spreads spontaneously in varying forms, contains elements of humor or horror (the horror often "punishes" someone who flouts society's conventions), makes good storytelling and does NOT have to be false, although most are. ULs often have a basis in fact, but it's their life after-the-fact (particularly in reference to the second and third points) that gives them particular interest.
When passed on orally, urban legends are often told as happening to a "friend of a friend", a mysterious individual of such importance to the genre that the term as been affectionately shortened to foaf. Although foafs are the most common means of transmitting the stories orally, it not uncommon for urban legends to be related in the media, giving the stories additional momentum. Several years back, the newsletter of the Entomological Society of America related a story about "an Israeli housewife's recent confrontation with a cockroach" which "put her husband into the hospital with burns, a broken pelvis, and broken ribs". The news item goes on to relate the classic urban legend involving a woman throwing a roach into a toilet and emptying a can of insecticide on it to ensure its demise. When her unwitting husband discards a lit cigarette butt into the toilet, the insecticide fumes are ignited and seriously burn the man's "sensitive parts". Adding insult as well as injury, the paramedics laugh so hard when told the full story that they drop their patient down a flight of stairs, breaking his ribs and pelvis. A brief discussion of this urban legend may again be found in Brunvand's The Mexican Pet. The story supposedly came from the Jerusalem Post, as quoted in Pest Control News magazine, so here we have the media version of the foaf.
What is striking about the spider-cactus condo story, is the fact that the authorities seem to know exactly what is happening, implying that this happens often enough to warrant emergency personnel being trained to deal with the impending explosion of pregnant plants! A similar story involves a woman who goes to a doctor with an earache caused by the intrusion of an earwig. The doctor is unable to get the offending critter and tells the woman to go home and wait for it to work its way to the other side. When the patient returns weeks later, the doctor is able to remove the earwig from the woman's other ear. The story ends with the doctor exclaiming "oh no, its a female", implying that, not only has the bug burrowed through the woman's head, but probably laid eggs along the way. As Brunvand points out in Curses, Broiled Again, are future doctors required to take entomology classes in medical school just so they will be able to identify female earwigs?
The earwig story not only has never happened, it is patently impossible. Insects, including occasional earwigs, do indeed blunder into human ears. A notable historical example is the beetle that accidentally got into the ear of explorer John Hanning Speke, during his search for the source of the Nile River. The beetle caused Speke such distress that he tried to dig it out with his penknife, only succeeding in killing the beetle and driving it into his eardrum. The resulting infection made him quite ill, and cost him his hearing in that ear. An insect that somehow made it past the eardrum would most likely go down the eustachian tube and be swallowed or coughed up. In other words, they couldn't chew through to the other ear, laying eggs as they go, without causing their host unimaginable agony. Finally, earwigs are basically herbivorous, living on dead and living plant matter, although they occasionally eat other live insects. Human brains are definitely not on their menu!
The subject of urban legends is a fascinating one, with its own enthusiastic following. In addition to Brunvand's books, there is an Internet newsgroup (alt.folklore.urban) where debunking of urban legends is considered an art form. Their FAQ (frequently asked questions) file is informative and highly entertaining. Be warned, this newgroup attracts some belligerent posters, and some who delight in playing embarrassing practical jokes on newcomers. Do not post to this group without reading the FAQ file! You will want to lurk (read the newsgroup without posting) for some time before adding your two cents. The alt.folklore.urban FAQ is being made available via World Wide Web at: http://www.urbanlegends.com/.
Anyone with a general interest in urban legends would do well to start with Jan Brunvand's books. In the future, I hope to relate other AULs (arthropod urban legends), both those told by Brunvand and others that I have happened upon. If you see or hear anything that you suspect may be an AUL, please bring it to my attention ( jjohnson@asrr.arsusda.gov). I'm particularly interested in anything in the media (newspapers, magazines, television, movies). Above all, beware of foafs bearing tales!

Books on Urban Legends (all by Jan Harold Brunvand, published by W. W. Norton and Co., New York).

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Copyright 1995, by Judy Johnson
All Rights Reserved. Reproduction not permitted without permission.

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