Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Beth and I live in an old house belonging to my oldest daughter and her husband, a rock structure positioned, approximately, in the backyard of a rather large log cabin that they own. This one was originally built by his father and grandfather from nearby creek-bed stone and time has weathered the exterior. We are comfortable here, happy with the arrangements, but each year find ourselves battling tiny black ants who seem unable to get my message that they are trespassing on private property. Inside, I have discovered “Terro”, a liquid bait trap, around which they gather en masse, resembling some tribal ritual as they feed, then disappear for a month or so before the whole act of genocide needs to be repeated. Outside, I just spray with about the same results. To watch them in their individual, community routes, though, traveling back and forth as if some invisible chalk-line determined their course has always intrigued me. Who goes out first and marks the route? Do they possess some sort of long-distance communications system between them whereby one calls back to the others: “Come to me! I have found great treasure!” or must that initial explorer first return, like Marco Polo, with proof of what’s waiting for them at the end of the journey? Regardless, it seems to me that we humans are not immune to such instinct. It just depends on the person, the enticement, and one’s willingness to “go with the flow”

No comments:

Post a Comment