Ants are awesome. Their level of organisation, communication and ability to carry objects many times their tiny size is verging on the supernatural. When I am in nature, I like to be still and watch what is going on around me, and it is usually the activity of the ants that grab my attention.
But in The Philippines, they were on a whole new level, those funkers were waiting while you ate just to carry the remnants away, and if you took too long a break your food would be doing a Rumba across the table and you had to catch it.
The Philippine’s Insectary
Before I get to the ants, let me first mention the wasps, they had military style flying formations and if you pissed them off, squadrons would follow you – and attack. Over and over and over again until you die or reach cover.
This was on the farm, I was happily cutting grass under our gorgeous mango tree. The branches were low and somehow, I had knocked the hive and they had taken offence.
In moments I was under attack, grass cutter in one hand, the other swatting ineffectively at the tiny bombers. I did what anyone would do I ran. Well I screamed first, the whole barangay must have heard me, and then I ran.
I have mentioned before, I am not elegant, and clumsy is my middle name. I can just imagine the sight of me fleeing across the farm, slapping at my neck, screaming. Not pretty. B heard me and came outside, I was at the farm gate by then, and she ushered me inside, when I explained she had an almost hidden smile creep across her face, almost.
The wasps retreated, you never messed with B, she killed Cobras with bamboo, they were not going to mess with her. She sat me down and inspected the damage. Seven wasp stings, SEVEN and painful. Now I felt sorry for myself.
Her solution, and this works, rub juices from down there (don’t make me say it) onto the stings.
Back To The Ants
When we first moved to B’s home town Quezon, I stayed in a local rooming house and would join her at her family home for meals. We would shop every day for food, no refrigeration, and B would cook for us all, the four adult sized kids would be home everyday for lunch and dinner.
Most days we would have fish for lunch with rice and some kind of vegetables. The kids would eat first and walk back to school, then we would eat our food and chat, enjoying each other’s company. We would sit on a bamboo couch and the food would be on a coffee table in front of us.
Now, the house was a typical light materials house in The Philippines, except made of wood, an earth floor in the kitchen which was open and food was cooked on a charcoal fire. Water was drawn by a hand pump from a deep well, and the bedrooms upstairs were large enough only to accomodate a prone body.
Lunching With Ants
The ants watched us eat, I swear. It was early on that I noticed their routine. After the fish bones were sucked clean they were put onto a separate plate and somehow the ants knew this as it was the only plate that they took anything from, mostly.
As the first bones hit that plate, the scouts would arrive confirming that there was something there (they assumed for them). They would check the size of the desired morsel then hurry off to gather troops. They would arrive back in tens and twenty’s until the bone was surrounded and it would start to move across the table.
If I put an obstacle in the way (I was curious), to test what they would do. They would reach it, test out how big it was then shimmy around it until they were clear and back to their original path. They would reach the edge of the table and reorganise their hold on their bone, and then descend very successfully down the leg and onto the floor.
They werent quick but they were so efficient. They would scoot across the floor and outside where I would lose sight of them. This would repeat and until that fish plate was either empty or removed, thousands of them would get involved.
This was our daily ritual, ants and all.
Peace Out