Do you pronounce the words aunt and ant the same?
I became an aunt by the age of 8. I love my nieces and nephews to the moon and back. One of them calls me "Maur Heidi", which is the Norwegian word for ant. Guess, you need to be bilingual to see how funny that is.
Ants have also been part of my life for better and for worse. I enjoy watching how industrious they are, running back and forth, carrying little twigs that are much bigger than themselves. They prepare. They get ready for colder, harsher days.
Problem is, I have had ants crawl on me, run up and down my legs, and even bite me. How rude is that?
The biggest problem now is this: The Duck and Cherry's neighboring property has two large ant hills right on the border. The ants have made roads and trails up and down our driveway, by the front porch, and in my herbal patch. I look at them - hundreds of ants in a row, marching aimfully, not even stopping for breath - and they remind me of Japanese motorways. I would know, I lived there for three years. The roads there are crowded even in the middle of the night.
I tried to take photos of the ant-motorway to show on my blog, but the image did not give the same effect as seeing them real time.
Then in the back of my mind, in a place where hidden thoughts tend to be mischievous and disobedient, an idea crept forward. What if I place crumbs of sweet bread from the ant hills up towards the neighbor's house? After all, those are her ant hills and on her property. I just wish her ants would stay with her and not aim to visit me.
OK, I hear you. Communication is way better. Some people are just a little scary to communicate with.
What if I try telepathy? What about trying to speak with the ants? Maybe I should invite them to form groups or arranging their own ant farms, even performing circuses?
I have read that ants are social insects. That's nice.
Then again, maybe I should just make a trip to the store and buy remedies against ant invasion. What do you think?
Photo of spring in the garden of the Duck and Cherry.