“Is this Christian of me?” I asked myself as I poured the second kettle of boiling water over the eruption of ants pouring forth from my patio.
“No,” I replied to myself, and continued pouring. My total lack of tolerance and empathy was admittedly at odds with my usual nature, particularly towards innocent creatures. I don’t kill spiders that find their way into my house, I just close the door to whatever room they’re in and never go back in. I’m typing this from the downstairs toilet. It’s the only place I have left.
A short while after my anticidal activity today, I spotted what looked to be a hedgehog-sized and hedgehog-shaped lump in the cul-de-sac adjacent to my own road. I decided to investigate and found what was in fact a hedgehog-sized and hedgehog-shaped hedgehog. I picked it up, found no injuries, and then thought, “Oh. What now?” Thankfully, I looked up to see another little hedgehog tumbling over someone’s flower border in its desperation to reach its spiky comrade. I was very glad to see it head towards me, as I hoped it would know what to do.
I took my tiny charge over to the pavement and popped it down next to its peer. They both curled into silent balls.
“What would you like me to do with you?”
Silence. I didn’t expect much else, really. I thought about it for a few minutes, chatting steadily away, mostly so that if a neighbour looked out, they wouldn’t think I was just sitting on the pavement for no reason. They’d assume I’d had a mental breakdown and was talking to myself, which is much less embarrassing. Thankfully, a minute or two later, lovely Tish called over to me. Tish is a kind and good neighbour, and I’m always happy to see her, but I was positively thrilled on this occasion.
“Is it hedgehogs, Georgia?”
“It’s hedgehogs, Tish.”
My neighbours all like me for my conversational skills.
I crossed the road to meet her at her gate, keeping one eye on the normally nocturnal creatures.
“I don’t think they’re injured. I’m just worried that they’re out while it’s light. One of them was just sat still in the road. The other came down from that house’s garden. I figured they might know each other. I could always put them in my garden, but I’m not sure if that’s what I should do.”
Tish leaned against the wrought iron gate, considering.
“Well, I had a huge, big, fat hedgehog the other week, on my drive, in the middle of the day. The biggest I’ve ever seen. I called them up – the hedgehog people - ”, I nodded, shelving my question about who the hedgehog people were and how one could join their cult for later, “and they said it might be a pregnant female. They told me to put it in a box with some food and water and release it at night into the garden. That was a few weeks ago. This might be her young, but I don’t know. They shouldn’t be out like this.”
We talked some more and agreed that Tish would dust off her “hedgehog box” and call the same people. Apparently, there is a Hedgehog Society, although I know there is also a local lady who just really likes hedgehogs and enjoys nursing them to health. You may have one in your own area – it’s worth finding out, as you never know when you might need some advice. We got them into their comfortable little box, merrily chomping on some luxury dog food, and I left Tish to make her call. She promised to update me, and I promised to help in any way needed.
As you can see, I am not a total monster, but perhaps I am species-ist, as the vegans like to tell me, as their bones disintegrate into their bowls of nutritional yeast. Or, perhaps the ants pushed me too far this time. We used to be perfectly sympatico, the ants and me. I appreciated that they had their place in the ecosystem and saw their eternal presence in my garden as a good sign of life.
That all changed when they trespassed into my kitchen just a few months ago. Lines and lines of the little leggy dots all crawling over my lovely-yet-neglected wooden work surfaces (seriously, when are you supposed to find 24 hours to let linseed oil dry, why did I think I would ever not need my kitchen for 24 hours?? I know, I have to do it. It’s on the list. The bastard, bloody list). Swarming over utensils, food, tiles. Flicking the v’s at me as I tried to smush them all individually. The sight of them invading my home filled me with a previously unknown revulsion. They had tainted my beloved home. I wanted to kill them. More than that, I wanted to make them suffer.
I bought ant powder and put that down in the kitchen and outside in the garden where I thought they might get in. I found individual ants outside the door and sprayed big puffs of the white stuff into their tiny faces.
“You take that home, you bastard. Take it and die.”
Rage and horror made me vicious. I took a sealant gun and sealed up every tiny hole around my kitchen window. I sealed some of the ants into the goop, like a devouring blob monster in some hideous old B-movie, never satiated, never still. Always more goop. Always more death. Day after day, I attacked from all angles until finally, there were no more ants in my house.
I’ve never been able to look at them the same, and I’m sure the survivors feel the same way about me. Today, they crossed a line. They crawled up my mum’s trouser leg while she hung out the washing. She remained remarkably calm throughout her ordeal, stomping vigorously to shake them off while maintaining a healthy and high-pitched squeal throughout. She recovered quickly, whereas I would likely have been catatonic for some hours afterwards.
I went to look at the scene of the crime after she had gone inside to change/burn her trousers. Ants. Ants everywhere on the patio, running in their intricate little patterns at breakneck speed. They had probably developed a taste for human flesh and were wondering what to do with their blood lust. I decided to get ahead of the enemy, and give them a few good kettles, just to keep the numbers down. I gave up not too long after starting when I looked at the lawn and saw several square feet of it simply alive with ants, wriggling, crawling, even flying ants. It was a carpet of invertebrates.
I retreated inside and now await my napalm order from the Dark Web. In the meantime, I have lost the garden, but still have the house, and with that, the upper hand. I will win. Let that be a warning to any ants reading this. You will lose.
You will lose.
Fun story; enjoyed it. Watch out for those Hedgehog People haha. . .
This one brought on the chortles, giggles and guffaws. I'm glad I'm not an ant anywhere near you, but I'd be a hedgehog in your yard anytime☺️