I know that when I think of ants, I think of the big black
ones I was afraid of as a toddler, the ones I boldly crushed when I grew
brave enough.
But much more menacing are those I witnessed in Central Africa,
the rivers of army ants that flowed through jungles, fanning out when they
encountered a corpse, devouring it to the
bone while the guards stood by on back legs, the giant pincher heads alert, ready to snap.
In Guatemala, we delighted in finding trails of leaf cutter
ants. We would each choose an ant from
the marching stream and at the count of three pick up the leaf, which the ant usually held
onto, and set them side by side to race. Sometimes, the fastest ones become a
little stunned by the sudden break in stride and had trouble getting started
again.
No comments:
Post a Comment