A partially fictionalized diary of antvasion
Sept. 15
Line of small black ants across the kitchen floor. Origin and destination unclear. Some have abdomens cocked upward at a jaunty angle, like ant hotrods. This makes them look more aggressive and hooligany somehow.
Gone before noon, as if they had never been.
Sept. 16
(Forget about ants)
Sept. 26
Go backpacking to commune with nature and mountains. Larches turning gold around a clear lake. Fog scudding along the shores. Brutal wind that snaps tent pole at midnight and sucks away all prospect of sleep. Feel awesome about nature and mountains anyway.
Oct. 1
Make kale salad and leave leaf crumbs on kitchen island for a few hours. Scattered ants probe debris. Gone again after wipe down. Notice a smell—sickly sweet, with a licorice edge—when I crush some. Perusing the internet, I discover my guests may be odorous house ants, also known as coconut ants, although scientists have undertaken the very serious business of classifying smushed ant smell and have landed on blue cheese.
Blue cheese ants.
Oct. 2
(Forget about ants)
Dec. 20
24 inches of snow! Ran around outside with dog porpoising through the drifts like a seal. Came in sweaty and aglow. Nature! Yeah! Meltwater on tile, boots by door. Lifted one a few hours later to find perfect bootprint of ants crawling over each other in a mad boil beneath. Set boot down to one side. Ants gone within 15 minutes.
Dec. 29
Leave for two weeks in Colorado with family.
Jan. 7
Return home. Something different. Not sure what.
Jan. 8
Strange smell in kitchen. Licorice smell. Bad feeling.
Jan. 10
Spill some dogfood in cabinet, forget to clean up. ANTSPLOSION. Pick up every piece of dogfood by hand. Ants vanish.
Jan. 11
Ants turn up in brown sugar bag. ANTSPLOSION. Put bag in Ziploc in refrigerator. Pick around dead ants for sugar.
Jan. 20
Ants find sealed honey jar. ANTSPLOSION. Line of ants up kitchen wall into closed cabinet. Ants running hither and yon between coffee bags and baking soda on bottom shelf. Ants packing into seam between lid and honey jar, smashing each other in mad sugar frenzy, forming chunky honey-ant-combo glue around rim.
Lift and stare at jar.
Writing story right now about coexisting with mountain lions. Have written many stories about living with bears. Occurs to me that ants are also wildlife. Occurs to me that I should also try to coexist with ants. Ask self, What would E.O. Wilson do?
Take jar to sink. Sluice ants down drain with satisfaction. Kitchen fills with smashed ant smell. Licorice. Blue cheese.
Jan. 25–Morning
Mysterious line of ants on kitchen wall by dog water bowl. Dead ants floating in tea kettle.
Jan. 25—Night
Mysterious line of ants between windowsill and framed picture above my bed.
Jan. 27
Mysterious ant lines.
Jan. 28
Spot licorice at grocery store. Give licorice the finger. Blue cheese too, for good measure.
Feb. 1-3
Mysterious ant lines.
Feb. 4
Reading in bed 11 pm. Ants crawl out of hair across face. Forget about love of nature. Forget about E.O. Wilson. Thrash around swatting at face. Smash ants between fingers and fling across room. Smash wall ants with heel of hand.
Licorice fills bedroom.
Feb. 5
Buy poison ant traps at local hardware store, put next to ant lines in kitchen and bedroom.
Feb. 10
Ants blithely ignore ant traps. Ants smash selves into honey jar lid. More ant drownings. Move honey to safe zone of fridge.
Feb. 11-14
Ant lines. Still no ants in traps.
Feb. 15
Ants move inexplicably to bathroom. Garlands of ants around base of toilet, round and round. Ant ceremony.
Feb. 16
Find toothbrush bristles packed full of ants. Remember toilet ceremony. Ant drownings.
Feb. 17
Taste licorice in oatmeal. Spot dead ant floaters. Relent and eat oatmeal anyway.
Imagine death by scalding oatmeal.
Tape sign above sink: “E.O. Wilson is watching.”
Feb. 18-28
Mysterious ant line leading into medicine cabinet, where it vanishes.
Tell friend about ants. Friend says, “somewhere in your house is the queen, sitting on her gelatinous throne, surveying the world with cold eyes and JUDGING YOU.”
Ignore friend. Try to ignore ants.
Ant peace.
March 2
Feel congested. Read about COVID-19 outbreak in Washington, where I live. Go to medicine cabinet for relief. Back corner of middle shelf. One zinc lozenge left.
Grab lone zinc lozenge. Zinc lozenge is full of ants. Ants fountain over hand and fall to the floor. Ants keep coming out of lozenge.
Go to kitchen and crumple E.O. Wilson sign.
Vigorously rinse zinc lozenge.
Licorice. Blue cheese.
But Jan 28th, tho. That felt good didn’t it.
My antacks don’t come with licorice or blue cheese so maybe this is useless, but my winning tactics have been 1) follow strategy of scorched-ant-earth; 2) squirt lines of ants with Windex and hoo boy, they shrivel instantly; 3) use Terro ant traps at the ants’ point of entry into the house. Takes a couple of days and several changes of ant traps.
Moments before reading today’s LWON I texted my daughter to tell her she may be right about why my coffee tasted like cayenne. Ants!