Sometimes I'll see something that I've always taken for granted, and for no apparent reason a kind of perception shift occurs. No, it's not satori or any other sort of awakening, I haven't unwittingly wandered through Huxley's Doors Of Perception, and weed isn't legal here in Oregon yet. It's just - I feel a bit different; it's hard to explain.
Taking that picture above was difficult; it was late at night, the only illumination was the kitchen night light, and the closest camera at hand was an older one, with not the best low-light capability. Being half asleep and rather stupid, I didn't want to turn on any bright lights, not wanting to disturb these ants before the shot was taken - I'd forgotten that ants have no eyes, and can't see.
These particular ants are really, really tiny. They're newcomers here, and seem to have displaced the ones we've always had, the much larger black ones who used to wander into the kitchen at odd intervals, in very small numbers, just one or two at a time. Those big ones were easy to tolerate, never got in the way, and being so seldom seen, were almost like pets. Not so the small ones, who have arrived in hordes, always ready to take advantage of any kitchen mishaps, such as this previously unnoticed drop of honey. I still see the big ones occasionally, in the back yard, and I greet them like an old friend, but they seem to have lost some sort of battle for territory to these small ants, and never venture into the house anymore.
Cooking has become a royal pain lately. If the meal involves anything these ants might like, suddenly the counter by the stove is swarming with them, and I have to clear them away. Making loud noises doesn't seem to work - I suspect they have no ears, either. Pounding on the countertop makes them run away, but never very far, or for very long. I've swept them away with a feather duster, and that makes me feel maybe like a Jain, one of those holy men in India who have such reverence for life that they whisk the walk ahead of them, for fear of treading on any tiny lives. Ants taste and smell really awful, and if they get into your food the meal will be ruined, so in the extremities of my frustration I've had to play God, and just mopped them up in quantities, while uttering the Klingon battle oath - "Today... is a good day - to die!"
But, on this one very late night, bleary eyed and foggy headed, with my elbows on the kitchen counter, I watched these little ants for awhile as they went about their business. And business it is - these little creatures forage constantly, and when any food to their liking is found, the lone scout immediately communicates the location, by whatever means they have, to other members of their collective and within short order many more arrive on the scene to profit from the feast. Watching them at work, it's obvious they have protocols in place within their society governing their behavior - there is no mad rush or disorganized scramble at a food gathering spot; the ants communicate with each other, and take their places in a very orderly fashion.
It's said the Olympian Gods of old toyed with the lives of mortal men in much the same manner of detached amusement or spirit of observation as does a warped child pulling the wings off of flies, or a lab technician testing cosmetics on kittens. Very possibly the ancient Greek Gods, like so many of the iconic figures in religious literature worldwide, are merely metaphors for aspects of the human condition. Well, whatever character trait that may represent, I don't seem to possess it, never have, and quite possibly I have some sort of character flaw that prevents me from ridding the house of ants, or setting a mouse trap, without feeling a sense of - maybe not an emotional pang, but still a small sense of loss. I know that many of you have been given permission by your personal God of choice to have dominion over the earth, and all creatures upon it, to do as you in your wisdom may please. Well, that's great for you; maybe I'm just a bit envious that my own God hasn't done so well by me.
These tiny ants, with their tiny civilization, and their tiny social structures and protocols, are after all just a small, almost insignificant part of the marvelous complexities of the great web of life that has evolved on this wonderful green Earth. But still, what a royal pain to have in the kitchen.