Behold a very small and rather cute spider.

This is clypeatus.

A jumping spider.

He doesn't spin webs.

Instead he uses silk as a lifeline, reeling it out as he hops from place to place.

But right now, he's looking for a mate.

The thread of a female spider that he can trace back to its source.

Problem is, she may have other priorities.

While he'll jump on pretty much anything that moves...She only mates once.

She's picky.

So he's going to make his case... on the dancefloor.

Male jumping spiders perform courtship displays that would make Bob Fosse proud.

Jazz hands, leg-lifts...they even shimmy their pedipalps.

But he needs a soundtrack.

So, by beating together the front and back halves of his body, he creates vibrations that travel through the ground.

This is what her ears look like.

Tiny membranes stretched across slits in her legs.

To study these jumping spider pulses, researchers at the University of California Berkeley use a sophisticated laser vibrometer developed for quality-testing cars and airplanes.

It turns those vibrations into something we can hear.

And guess what?

It's a song.

The first verse sounds like this.

A fast heartbeat.

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump.

Then, more thumping.

Followed by something new.

A "BOOM."

This is verse two.

That pattern, over and over again.

For verse three he adds a third element.

Almost like he's casting a spell, right?

From species to species, and there are thousands of different jumping spiders, the songs vary.

But one thing never changes: Male jumping spiders sing like their lives depend on it.

Because they do.

She may mate with him.

She might refuse.

But she might just eat him instead.

When the Berkeley scientists prevented the males from singing while they danced, the females were three times as likely to hunt them as prey.

So he needs to go big.

The closer he gets to her, the more danger he's in.

The dance and the song get more and more urgent.

But even with all that... She's still calling the shots.