The Avid Ambler

The Ant Bringing Home the Bacon

Last night I had barbecue for dinner and left a morsel on my countertop.  I thought "I should clean it up; it will attract something if I don't."  I left it alone, though; maybe I was curious.  Although I knew it would be ants.  In fact, I thought it'd be a long, orderly line of marching ants.  It turned out that a lone messenger ant had negotiated the treacherous sojourn across my countertop.  Maybe all the other ants did not believe so didn't follow him, or perhaps he was a particularly muscular ant who said he'd go it alone; he'd be fine.  No problem. 

I stumbled to my kitchen to start water for coffee and saw him (or her) there zooming in circles around the morsel.  I was curious.  At first I thought he was frustrated and whizzing round and round to clear his head.  Maybe he was vascillating wildly between whether to try to carry the load himself (but sure he couldn't) or to return home and request reinforcements.  Whatever he was doing, vascillating or something else, he was doing it wildly.  I even suspected he was suicidal, and that he'd rather die trying than return without his prize.

But in time he successfully hooked the morsel and began dragging it across my countertop.  What a treacherous terrain.  Some giant, me, was waving a shadow across his path.  I was readying the coffee beans in the grinder.  I wondered if the loud noise of the grinder would disturb him, or worse, make him lose his mind again.  He seemed to have just regained it, so I wasn't particularly eager to assist him in letting go of it again.  But maybe, I thought, ants don't hear.  At least not in the same way we humans do.  So perhaps it won't affect him after all.  We'll see.

I pressed the button and the grinder whined and whirred loudly, as usual.

The ant didn't immediately stop, but shortly after I set the grinder down, he (or she) set down the morsel and zoomed wildly in circles again.  Maybe he's looking for the right direction, I thought.  Maybe he's pulling it with his teeth or something like that and has to back up the entire way so can't see where he's going.  How tedious and grueling!

Apparently he soon made a decision of some kind, because he again attached himself to the morsel and began dragging it.  I was impressed, mind you, as the morsel was at least twice his size.  Ants must be like birds and are very efficient, I thought.

He repeated this routine several times, eventually leaving without the morsel.  I was sad for him.  Maybe he didn't know how he'd drag it over the edge of my counter and down to the safety of some miniscule crevice that afforded his entrance and exit.

I wondered if any one of the colony would go hungry that day.

I was amazed he'd been able to drag the morsel at all, and disappointed it had been a futile effort.  I bet he (or she) was too.