Some of them were whoppers too—as far as white-tailed spiders go. (None of them, of course, was as big as the huntsman in the letter box. You can hear the patter of his eight feet when he scuttles over the mail. Although I like spiders, I don't want to hear them. That's just not right.)I'm going to keep a few of the peripatetic white-tails for photography, then I'll let them all go in the garden. (After a stern talking to about trespassing.) Here's an earlier post about their undeserved reputation.
