Year of the Joro

I walk my golden retriever through the woods behind our house most mornings. In late summer and early fall, I’ve always enjoyed witnessing the changing leaves and admiring the elaborate spider webs that glisten with morning dew, each one a tiny architectural marvel. But over the last two years, something has changed. I’ve started noticing webs that are different— massive, impossibly strong, with spiders positioned dead-center that are large, frightening, and unlike any Georgia spider I’ve ever encountered.

They call them Joro spiders, and let me tell you this: they are EVERYWHERE this year in Northwest Georgia. EVERYWHERE!

In the last month, I’ve seen dozens of the Joros’ large, net-like structures stretching between trees and across the trails. They’re magnificent, but they’re also strong and incredibly sticky. You don’t want to accidentally walk through one. Trust me on that.

My mind drifts back to childhood memories of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “Charlotte’s Web,” but these Joro spiders are something else entirely.

According to the University of Georgia, the Joro spider is currently the largest arachnid in the Peach State. Adult females can have a body length of up to 1.25 inches, though their leg span (as long as 4 inches) makes them appear gigantic—and intimidating. Native to Japan and China, these spiders likely hitched a ride to America on a shipping container, and once here on American soil, they made themselves right at home.

The females have bright yellow bodies adorned with blue-green bands and black legs featuring yellow stripes. They also sport a distinctive red mark on the underside of their abdomen. Males, by comparison, are much smaller and a duller brown color—the ladies definitely got the showier genes in this species.

But the real marvel is their web. Young Joro spiders spin clear silk that looks like typical spider webbing, but as they mature, everything changes. Adult females produce silk that’s noticeably yellow or gold—as if the web is coated in pollen. And the strands are thick, strong, and exceptionally sticky like tape. The support strands surrounding the web can reach over twenty feet, stretching between the tops of large trees like suspension bridges. I saw one at the top of a hickory tree earlier this week.

And like I said: they’re everywhere. In the woods. On my porch. On the deck. Strung across the driveway. Draped on the powerlines along our road. continued from page

And so I’ve dubbed 2025 the “Year of the Joro.”

But there’s some good news: These spiders pose no real danger to us or our beloved pets. Yes, they’re venomous—just like all spiders, they use venom to paralyze their prey, but they don’t bite humans unless they are messed with. Even still, they are not as dangerous as a black widow or brown recluse. I’m so thankful for that.

These spiders are actually doing us a favor, feeding on moths, flies, mosquitoes, stink bugs, beetles, and wasps. They’re opportunistic hunters, consuming whatever gets caught in those impressive webs they weave each night.

So here we are, sharing our woods with a bunch of invasive spiders. I can’t bring myself to kill the Joros—they’ve done nothing wrong. They’re just doing what spiders do, trying to survive and make baby spiders. But I’ll definitely keep avoiding those massive sticky webs. Yikes!