The pattern and colour of this little crab spider reminds me of the jambu ayer, the crunchy apple with a refreshingly bland juice that young ducks used to steal from trees owned by neighbours. The rosy flanks are candybar-like though, but this webless mistress bears none-too-sweet a disposition. She brandished her two front pairs of legs like the chela of swimming crabs and rushes forward at intruding fingers without fear. Or perhaps her beady little eyes simply can't register the size of her adversaries. For the sake of contrast, we placed her temporarily on a composite head of gold sepals, but she's probably more at home on a blossom that matches her tones and hides her colours from thirsty fliers that land for a fatal sip.
Her cousins come in bright white, lime green, mottled brown and scarlet boleros. One member of the family resembles the droppings of ducks, while another mocks her prey with stares from her rear-end. In pitcher plants, another of her kin lurks in wait of many-legged slip-ups. Shyer and subtler than their gaudy relations who bask in the sun, the Thomisids are growing in number locally, with a burgeoning of records that far surpass official checklists. But the power of these flowers is not likely to keep apace of the rate at which their microhabitats are being reclaimed for the greater good of riders desperate for the thrill of paydirt or grand visions that replace the glory of unruly green with gardens of manufactured trees.