Vibrant Village ™

It’s August in the South and that means hot, humid days and hot humid nights. Of course it’s hot...and  did I mention HOT!   This heat means that gardens and lawns are thirsty-so thirsty that my futile attempts at life support merely maintain, but surely do not nurture, new growth. But all's not limp and lifeless around my homestead. Activity does exist. One life form is both frisky and abundant. The small, black relentless creature we all know as the ant, is on the march.

We share similar tastes

I have to hand it to ants.  They possess the most incredible work ethic imaginable…hence their successful and lengthy existence.  Their species number over 20,000.  They've been on this planet for more than 100 million years.  Ants are thrifty, creative and very social animals.

Three types of ants make up a colony:  the queen, the sterile female workers and the males.  The queen, (or queens, depending on the type of colony) grows to adulthood, mates and spends the rest of her very tired life laying eggs.

The male ant lives only to mate with the queen, and then dies very shortly thereafter.  Female workers do all the work of the colony…tirelessly building tunnels and chambers and then moving eggs and food in and out of these areas.  I know where you’re coming from, girls, and I feel your pain.

Ants have been identified by some as Earth’s most successful species.  That's definitely the case in my yard, garden and, yes, even my home.  Despite my efforts at intense cleanliness, they triumph.  One small crumb, a slight sniff of cat food, a drop of any kind of flavored liquid, or just the presence of water is all the temptation they need.  And once one small six-legged invader has found the source of that tempting sight or smell, his tracings lead the pack.  Not just a few, but thousands make the trek to the newly discovered “Mecca.”

Ants, we've become one

I like to think that Mother Nature will step in and support my efforts.  Perhaps a really good rain will flood and wash away their towns and villages, or an exceptionally dry, hot spell will sear their little bodies to paralysis-but no.  Too much rain and they’re heading indoors for a higher, drier spot.  Likewise, days of hot, dry weather drive them right into all the hidden cracks in my house to look for any small drip of water they can find.

In my early days in Beaufort, I recall seeing an editorial cartoon in the local newspaper  The cartoon depicted a train of ants with the entire town of Beaufort being carried away on their backs.  I poo-pooed that image, of course.  I’ve got the upper hand; I’ve got Raid.  Wrong. A beer or a glass of wine proved a much better weapon-a true escape from the war of the worlds taking place everywhere in my home.

Kitchen cabinets, drawers, carpet, pet food bowls, glasses of any kind of beverage left sitting around-attracted the ants. I clearly remember waking up thirsty one night and reaching for a glass of water sitting on a nightstand by the bed.  The taste seemed a little suspect-a bit of a burning taste.  Upon closer inspection, with lights on, the glass was completely filled with ants. And now my body was as well.

Defending my turf

I never advocate hurting creatures smaller than myself.  I feel real conflict about wiping out entire troops of ants that are simply following their instincts. The pets in my home prevent me from using chemical insecticides, both inside and out.  My conflict abated a bit when a friend shared her theory on pest removal.

She said,  “Any animal will protect its habitat from invasion.”

That said, I feel some restitution in the fact that I only wage my battle against those brave enough to come inside, and then try to be as green as possible in their removal-just a simple mixture of white vinegar and water are a good way to “clean things up.”  Outside, they have free range.  They can build hills, have families, and serve their queen as long as their short lives will allow.

So creatures of the ant kingdom, let’s draw the line. Throw down the gauntlet, so to speak.  Take my yard, trees, porches, fences and plants, but within the house’s walls, please leave my cats and me to the ant-free chaos we love.

Let’s end this “ant”-inomy peacefully. You continue doing what you do, and I’ll continue to have weapons of mass destruction ready just in case your “doings” include further home invasion.

I don’t “ant”-icipate any problems with that, do you?

About Constance: Constance is a life-long North Carolinian and learned her gardening craft from her 'green-thumbed grandmother' who allotted Constance a small garden space and a package of pumpkin seeds and let her “have my way with it.” Today Constance continues to “practice” her gardening efforts at her home in Beaufort, North Carolina, assisted by her tribe of feline garden helpers.