...go marching two by two...

Ants

At eight, I fed them – tenderly breaking apart the inner workings of an orange and placing the teeny tiny juice sacs next to the ant path that ran from their nest at the base of our red-wood mail box post to somewhere near the gopher holes on the weed-covered slope heading down to the dirt road. I marveled that they could carry things bigger than they were, weighing more than they did. They also liked graham cracker crumbs. I delighted in watching them read each other’s antennae for clues to where the “good stuff” was to be found and watched them change course to pick up the snacks. I watched them a lot.

My mom’s housekeeper, Sue Jones, had gnarled feet, gnarled hands and pointy-poky elbows and knees. The first time I saw a Van Gogh painting of peasants I thought, “That’s Sue Jones!” Sue cared for our home for a few years during a formative period in my life. When she poured boiling water on ants gathered around the kitchen sink she always said, “May you come back as beautiful butterflies.” Perhaps Sue’s words were my first introduction to the idea of reincarnation.

Ants

At thirty, I was shocked by how many black rivers of them flowed through a friend’s kitchen - seemingly not a biggy to her - causing me to swoop up my eight month old daughter and not want to put her down on my friend’s custom moving-design-linoleum.

Ants

They send scouts. They’re smart and survival savvy. When we get Santa Ana wind conditions in Southern California the soil gets parched. Ants come marching two by two to see what’s available in the loo. I found two scouts at four one morning when I was brushing my teeth before retiring.  I took no joy in smushing their quick-footed bodies between my forefinger and the beige counter tile. It was more a reflex action. I was so tired from staying up so late. I uttered a small apology, Sue Jones’ wish and a warning: “Tell your nest mates NOT here!” Maybe I should’ve let one live to carry the message back– for when I arose at nine a.m. I found half a dozen scouts dashing about.

They leave no blood stains when crushed. They’re tidy as dead bugs go. I don’t think they are only self-serving. I count them as advance warning systems. 

Days before the 1994 Northridge Earthquake I observed ants trying to colonize our master bath AND the children's bathroom AND under the kitchen-sink. I think they had pre-cognition. I think they foresaw a disruption of their supply lines and were working overtime to establish new ones. After the quake my husband, two daughters and two dogs moved outside to sleep. In the ant’s usual territory, of the back yard, the aftershocks weren’t so shocking. We slept under the fourteen foot diameter trampoline while a couple of other families slept in tents next to the trampoline. Our friends’ homes were severely damaged in the quake; our damage was only cosmetic.The upside was that we had fewer nick-knacks to dust! 

The ant’s needs and our needs determined a changing of the guard. They went in while we went out! Ants are much more organized than people. But we had a hell of a lot of fun creating a make shift BBQ in a galvanized tub for cooking all the rapidly defrosting food. We made s’mores, told stories and sang songs by starlight during the beautiful darkness which descended when most of Los Angeles lost its power. I wonder if ants sing. I’m certain they would love s’mores!

Certainly also, they are a valuable commodity in the compost pile – helping to breakdown fruit and vegetable scraps –part of the process of turning garbage into life-giving soil. Whenever I’m going to harvest the compost to use in the garden, I give the ants twelve to twenty-four hours notice so they can temporarily relocate while I’m digging around in there. Amazingly, they seem to move to other locales!  For that I am grateful.

I wasn’t surprised when I read about Findhorn Garden and the inter-species communication that went on there, but I was surprised that I got similar results the first time I telepathically forewarned the ants about the impending compost upheaval.

One of my mom’s neighbors in Echo Park was inundated from time to time by rivers of ants – lots of dogs and dog-food attracted them. Joan had a sure-fire remedy. She’d buy half a dozen Winchell’s donuts and put the box on the front step and tell the ants “dinner is served… on the patio.” Within a few hours the ant-rivers all flowed out. Then Joan would move the box to a more opportune spot - away from her front step.

Like Joan, I do not like to use poison. My basic belief is that “there is no 'AWAY' to throw anything!” Whatever we make on this earth is here to stay in some form or other. Since matter can neither be created nor destroyed but can only change form, I’m concerned that we might turn all of earth’s material resource into poison or into plastic! (Is that redundant?) And while we’re thinking about this… let’s not dig up Uranium and other radioactive materials either, OK? There is no “away!” 

A friend recently told me about laying down a line of sugar mixed with baking soda. The sweetness attracts them and the ants carry the alkaline soda back to the nest which disrupts them somehow. Their little antennae exchange may go something like this: “Avoid the sweet white powder around that house! It’s bad news for us!” Sure beats the negative environmental costs of Black Flag and Raid!

Ants

Smart.

Organized.

Communicative.

Intentional.

Crafty.

Survivors.

Ants

I wonder if they can survive nuclear holocaust. Remember that 1954 horror movie… “THEM??!!”

Sometimes ants make me want to holler “Uncle!!”