The Trouble With Ants

The Trouble With Ants

By Kimarie Manhart-Freeman

Winter is not a time for even thinking about ants. When we moved into our current rental property high in the Pocono Mountains, the snows were three feet high. The yard was a nuclear frozen winter, the inside of the home had been unlived in for at least 6 months or more. We saw no trace of anything remotely bug-ish.

With the sudden spring melt that is known in the Poconos, the ants made their instant and magical appearance….everywhere. Not just the cute little picnic-type ones, but their muscle-bound jock older brother types known as carpenter ants. They are worthy of the name too. Sometimes I picture them wearing tool belts, sleeves rolled up with a pack of Marlboros in one, Talking in a Jersey accent, ”You’s guys seen da Queen? Man!, That broad is getting on my last nerve :pronounced “noive” : Or lately, as Ninjas. They sneak in quietly, and in a sudden death move, they pinch me on my nether parts whilst sitting atop the commode.

Locating the nest is the real bugger: pun intended:. Finding Bin Laden was a piece of Baklava compared to located ant nests. But with the commencement of Spring Break, the love-sick and horny things are spreading their wings, procreating like irresponsible hippies. It’s only a matter of time before they start using the laundry and raiding the fridge.

I had a nightmare that one of them was dressed like one of my sons, asking for a ride to GameStop to get another video game. I chased it out and ran to tell my sleeping husband, who was a giant ant. He rolled over and looked at me with his mandibles clacking, antennae moving wildly about, demanding me to “Give us a kiss Babe”. I woke up with heart pounding. No sleep after that, So, I sat up in my recliner till 3AM, holding my Ginger Ale and Crackers protectively, my feet curled up about me. Then I felt it….the pinch. On the same hand that was holding my Ginger Ale. I spilled it all over myself and into the shower I went, where I found about 6 more waiting for me.

Such moments remind me of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, where Elmer Fudd loses it and runs screaming from Rabbittitis.

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Locating them was easy…they’re everywhere. Today, they’re in the clear glass Iight fixture in the bathroom, running in circles within like a merry-go-round from bug hell.

I have begun the process of Project Lockdown. Clothes in suitcases to keep from getting my lady parts bitten, foodstuffs in Ziploc baggies and Tupperware. My home looks like a kind of HAZMAT sight. Forget “casual” dinners. I’m putting away leftovers before they get cold.

The old folks remedies don’t work.. “Oh, they won’t go near mint!. At our old place, ants had their nests right in my mint bushes. Just the same, I left fresh leaves along the ant trails here, but they arrived with little glasses of Bourbon and began making Mint Juleps. “They hate cinnamon!” Uh huh. I surrounded some ants on a floor tile with cinnamon. I envisioned it working the same as a line of salt on a witch, but no such luck. I’ve heard they cook ants in other countries. In Thailand, they fry them with spices. I can open a fried ant stand, offering ones covered in mint or cinnamon. They seem to be okay with doing the all the prep for me. “Work smarter, Not harder”, my Dad always said.

I know that Nature hates a vacuum. I attached the hose extension, then I dropped some acid. No, not the Jerry Garcia kind, The Boric Acid kind. So the vacuum’s new guests won’t find their way out. Up they went, sucked up like folks from a mid-west trailer park, into a dark, breezy limbo. If you’d prefer a vacuum that uses bags, for ease of disposal, be my guest. On the other hand, who wouldn’t like to see a cyclone of frantic insects? Antie Em!

You don’t need a product that “kills ants on contact.” Your shoe kills ants on contact. Make the ants work for you. Use poison that acts in a few hours that they share with the colony. Like when the United States Army shared smallpox infected blankets with the Native Americans they wanted to wipe out.

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Years ago, I used powdered pyrethrins, derived from innocent chrysanthemum flowers, to kill insects. It’s a powerful nerve toxin to them. Dust the ants with it, and they’d convulse like they’re at a club, and then die. It was supposed to be harmless to humans and animals, but I haven’t found any for sale recently. Hmmm, I found documentation of pyrethrins causing tremors, breathing difficulty, cancers, and other problems, including one called, “death”. Upon further investigation, Agent Orange was made from the same stuff.

Oh well. Alas, Poor Boric, You are my last hope. By the way, did you know the original Silly Putty was made from Boric Acid and Wood Glue? It’s true, and you can make it at home. Ants are now greeted with a buffet filling in gaps where they once entered the inside of my rental. I imagine a couple of Carpenter Ants saying, “Hey Knucklehead! You just ate!”, “But Tony! It’s free!”. After that it would seem a flame thrower is my final solution. But knowing my luck, they’d arrive with my stolen marshmallows and just laugh.

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