Invasion of the Ants

It is a very humid day in Stratford, Ontario with the temperature hovering around 30 C. Arriving home from a very warm walk, I knew I needed to close up all the blinds, in a perhaps futile attempt to keep my 135 year-old un-air-conditioned home slightly cooler than the outside air.

Walking into my living room, I noticed the window had a lot of black things on the sill. "Ah, leaves falling off the plants?" I wondered. "Oh no! They're moving!"

Indeed it seems that a swarm of flying ants (what do you call a flock of ants, anyway?) had decided that my front window would make an ideal new home. They had sent a few forerunners out last week, and I had zapped them with vinegar, and stunned them to the point where I could successfully scoop them up and flush them away. But this? This was a major invasion!

Vinegar would not do the trick this time. I had visions of Lenningen, with the ants rushing in for the kill.

It is amazing how the adrenalin kicks in at such a moment. No Raid to be found in the house, I ran with heart pounding to the folk next door. After what seemed like forever (maybe five minutes) and all the while envisioning the gradual takeover of my domicile, I raced back home with two cans in hand.

Now, I am not a wimp, and I don’t mind creepy-crawlies, but it was with no small amount of fear that I approached the task. Timorously entering the living room I was met by a giant-sized invader crossing the floor.

“Oh, no! They’ve already advanced from the windowsill.”

One stomp knocked him out for the eight-count, and I was off to face the army. Raid came first. The stricken soldiers floundered and circled round. I could just imagine their battle cries!

All the cracks, the ants themselves, over and over I attacked. They were a determined bunch, though, hanging on bravely to the thread of life.

And then I saw them outside!

Off I raced, stomping on a few floor-advancers as I went. Through the bushes, then spraying the screen, and all the cracks. The mind plays tricks and every tickle of a branch became a munching mandible. Ants were trying to escape, climbing the screen, only to be driven down in rain of Raid.

Back on the inside, the wounded were regrouping.

“Aha! I’ve got you!” My battle cry rang out.

But where were all these live ones coming from? They kept plopping onto the drenched windowsill. Looking up, another seething mass! Through the blinds I could see their forces gathered there. Up with the blinds. Attack again. On the window, on the walls, holding my breath, again and again I struck. The second can came into play as I felt perhaps it might kill off the survivors.

Barely able to breathe with all the mixed fumes, I have retreated to my computer.

Here I sit, weary from the fight, my heart beating once again at a more normal pace.

But what will I find when I arise from this chair?