We are learning a lot about ants here. The kids are getting tired of hearing me say, "Ants rule the world," which I say every time I loose an ant battle in the kitchen (usually involving bread).
There must be a dozen different species of ants in our little 'chalet' at any moment...and a few specimens on each of us, dutifully hunting for food. Most inside ants are small - some are tiny. Outside they get big - very big.
I'm under strict orders from every baseball dad in Davis to play baseball with Rock while we're here. And Rock is enforcing those orders strictly. This evening, we took our gear to a crude soccer pitch nearby that looked like a good place for throwing pop flies, grounders and a bull pen. It was a good place, but I was dressed more for Davis Little League (i.e., flip flops) than a crude soccer pitch in Cape Coast.
A ball got past me and rolled behind me to some brush near a red dirt mound under a giant tree. By the time I got to the ball - maybe 5 seconds - it was besieged by dozens of giant ants. The ball was almost as black as it was white. As I bent down to pick it up, I noticed wide trails of ants of all sizes marching in all directions, all around me. I quickly threw a ground ball to Rock and danced a high step jig out of the ant battle field...but I wasn't quick enough. I had dozens of ants of all sizes marching on me and attacking me and my flip flops. Several had sunk their mandibles so deeply in the cork of my flip flops that even a strong flick wouldn't dislodge them.
After three more overthrows to the red mound, I announced that practice was finished.
Planning to read some of E.O. Wilson's work on ants this weekend. They rule the world.
There must be a dozen different species of ants in our little 'chalet' at any moment...and a few specimens on each of us, dutifully hunting for food. Most inside ants are small - some are tiny. Outside they get big - very big.
I'm under strict orders from every baseball dad in Davis to play baseball with Rock while we're here. And Rock is enforcing those orders strictly. This evening, we took our gear to a crude soccer pitch nearby that looked like a good place for throwing pop flies, grounders and a bull pen. It was a good place, but I was dressed more for Davis Little League (i.e., flip flops) than a crude soccer pitch in Cape Coast.
A ball got past me and rolled behind me to some brush near a red dirt mound under a giant tree. By the time I got to the ball - maybe 5 seconds - it was besieged by dozens of giant ants. The ball was almost as black as it was white. As I bent down to pick it up, I noticed wide trails of ants of all sizes marching in all directions, all around me. I quickly threw a ground ball to Rock and danced a high step jig out of the ant battle field...but I wasn't quick enough. I had dozens of ants of all sizes marching on me and attacking me and my flip flops. Several had sunk their mandibles so deeply in the cork of my flip flops that even a strong flick wouldn't dislodge them.
After three more overthrows to the red mound, I announced that practice was finished.
Planning to read some of E.O. Wilson's work on ants this weekend. They rule the world.
Maybe you can somehow weave myrmecology (my new cool word thanks to Googling Dr. Wilson) into your ag efforts there in Ghana! Those ants have got have a hidden, useful-to-people purpose. I'm still feeling itchy from reading this post.
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