A colony of carpenter ants turned up in the mulch lining the bottom of the clay pot under the scraggly skeleton of the little tree with yellow flowers that died in the winter. Carpenter ants are the big busy kind, black and transluscent brown, big enough to be scary, but they mind their business pretty much, intense and focused, even in a crisis.
I guess mulch must be sort of perfect for carpenter ants, splintered wood with plenty of spaces, carpenter ant prefab. Apparently the moisture wasn’t a problem for them, maybe even an enhancement, and the whole thing was enclosed by the solid sides of the clay pot, like rock. I wonder if the ant philosophers and ant media bloggers ever remarked about the secure location, design, and planning. To an ant, it must have been structurally secure, solid and dense, with all the necessary conveniences of an ant community comfortably enclosed inside. From all appearances, the community thrived. Hundreds, maybe thousands of big gregarious ants swarming busily thorough passages connecting all kinds of compartments, nurseries, storage, dining, who knows? A retail mall? A convention center? A situation room?
In the end, they needed more than a situation room. The winter was cold. In the spring, the little tree didn’t recover. There was also a big old stump in the yard I wanted to cut up when I got everything squared away in the Spring, but one of the first things was clearing away the dead plants. I turned the pot over and dumped it all out and there was the ant colony in the mulch in what had been the bottom of the pot and the ants swarming in confusion and dismay through what had been the comfortable, routine passages of their lives.
Damn, man. What the hell? This thing was rated good to 90 degree rotation. Who could have predicted a total overturn? It’s a once in a lifetime event. Where the hell’s the queen when you need her?
Ants, however, are remarkably resilient. Ants are not given to extended introspection or organizational paralysis in a crisis. Almost as fast as the pot went over, scouts were looking for a refuge. They returned quickly, apparently with news of the nearby stump. Swarms of workers dragged the precious egg cases from the wreckage of the colony, somewhat hampered by disputes over who exactly would take charge of each project and what route exactly would be followed. Dragging an awkward load as big and heavy as your own body through the tangled roots and stems of thick grass must be an unimaginably challenging task. I watched one stout worker hauling a load resolutely through the tangle, sometimes bracing and virtually flinging the heavy bulb over obstacles, then climbing over and resuming the slow journey. After several minutes of this sporadic progress, a small brown lizard scampered down from the stump and took up a position on a fallen branch with a panoramic view of the proceedings.
When the ant with the egg case finally reached a convenient proximity, the lizard reached down with an attitude for all the world as if to say “Pardon, mate, I’ll just have that,” And removed the cargo from the grasp of its bearer. At first the ant completely paused, as if in consternation and disbelief, but finding no explanation or resolution, made a couple of vague, searching lunges, shrugged in resignation, and scurried back toward the ruined colony. Ants are not given to excessive agony or regrets either. The egg was gone. The work must go on.
By the next morning, the entire population had disappeared into the comforting security of the stump. I reflected on the heroic determination of individuals in the face of disaster, the resourcefulness, the selflessness, the sheer resolute sense of purpose despite the fragile vulnerability of society and the foolishness of confidence. In this simple drama, I recognized the unpredictable effects of fate and profound irony as I somewhat uncomfortably readied my chain saw to cut the stump in pieces.
I guess mulch must be sort of perfect for carpenter ants, splintered wood with plenty of spaces, carpenter ant prefab. Apparently the moisture wasn’t a problem for them, maybe even an enhancement, and the whole thing was enclosed by the solid sides of the clay pot, like rock. I wonder if the ant philosophers and ant media bloggers ever remarked about the secure location, design, and planning. To an ant, it must have been structurally secure, solid and dense, with all the necessary conveniences of an ant community comfortably enclosed inside. From all appearances, the community thrived. Hundreds, maybe thousands of big gregarious ants swarming busily thorough passages connecting all kinds of compartments, nurseries, storage, dining, who knows? A retail mall? A convention center? A situation room?
In the end, they needed more than a situation room. The winter was cold. In the spring, the little tree didn’t recover. There was also a big old stump in the yard I wanted to cut up when I got everything squared away in the Spring, but one of the first things was clearing away the dead plants. I turned the pot over and dumped it all out and there was the ant colony in the mulch in what had been the bottom of the pot and the ants swarming in confusion and dismay through what had been the comfortable, routine passages of their lives.
Damn, man. What the hell? This thing was rated good to 90 degree rotation. Who could have predicted a total overturn? It’s a once in a lifetime event. Where the hell’s the queen when you need her?
Ants, however, are remarkably resilient. Ants are not given to extended introspection or organizational paralysis in a crisis. Almost as fast as the pot went over, scouts were looking for a refuge. They returned quickly, apparently with news of the nearby stump. Swarms of workers dragged the precious egg cases from the wreckage of the colony, somewhat hampered by disputes over who exactly would take charge of each project and what route exactly would be followed. Dragging an awkward load as big and heavy as your own body through the tangled roots and stems of thick grass must be an unimaginably challenging task. I watched one stout worker hauling a load resolutely through the tangle, sometimes bracing and virtually flinging the heavy bulb over obstacles, then climbing over and resuming the slow journey. After several minutes of this sporadic progress, a small brown lizard scampered down from the stump and took up a position on a fallen branch with a panoramic view of the proceedings.
When the ant with the egg case finally reached a convenient proximity, the lizard reached down with an attitude for all the world as if to say “Pardon, mate, I’ll just have that,” And removed the cargo from the grasp of its bearer. At first the ant completely paused, as if in consternation and disbelief, but finding no explanation or resolution, made a couple of vague, searching lunges, shrugged in resignation, and scurried back toward the ruined colony. Ants are not given to excessive agony or regrets either. The egg was gone. The work must go on.
By the next morning, the entire population had disappeared into the comforting security of the stump. I reflected on the heroic determination of individuals in the face of disaster, the resourcefulness, the selflessness, the sheer resolute sense of purpose despite the fragile vulnerability of society and the foolishness of confidence. In this simple drama, I recognized the unpredictable effects of fate and profound irony as I somewhat uncomfortably readied my chain saw to cut the stump in pieces.
Here's thinking for you,
Iffy
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