ants on the ground, converging to the post at my elbow. Each was four
or five ranks wide, and the eight lines occasionally divided or
coalesced, like a nexus of capillaries. There was a wide expanse of
sand and clay, and no apparent reason why the various lines of
foragers should not approach the nest in a single large column. The
dividing and redividing showed well how completely free were the
columns from any individual dominance. There was no control by
specific individuals or soldiers, but, the general route once
established, the governing factor was the odor of contact.
The law to pass where others have passed is immutable, but freedom of
action or individual desire dies with the malleable, plastic ends of
the foraging columns. Again and again came to mind the comparison of
the entire colony or army with a single organism; and now the home,
the nesting swarm, the focus of central control, seemed like the body
of this strange amorphous organism--housing the spirit of the army.
One thinks of a column of foragers as a tendril with only the tip
sensitive and growing and moving, while the corpuscle-like individual
ants are driven in the current of blind instinct to and fro, on their
chemical errands. And then this whole theory, this most vivid simile,
is quite upset by the sights that I watch in the suburbs of this ant
home!
The columns were most excellent barometers, and their reaction to
passing showers was invariable. The clay surface held water, and after
each downfall the pools would be higher, and the contour of the little
region altered. At the first few drops, all the ants would hasten, the
throbbing corpuscles speeding up. Then, as the rain came down heavier,
the column melted away, those near each end hurrying to shelter and
those in the center crawling beneath fallen leaves and bits of clod
and sticks. A moment before, hundreds of ants were trudging around a
tiny pool, the water lined with ant handrails, and in shallow places,
veritable formicine pontoons,--large ants which stood up to their
bodies in water, with the booty-laden host passing over them. Now, all
had vanished, leaving only a bare expanse of splashing drops and wet
clay. The sun broke through and the residue rain tinkled from the
bamboos.
As gradually as the growth of the rainbow above the jungle, the lines
reformed themselves. Scouts crept from the jungle-edge at one side,
and from the post at my end, and felt their way, fan-wise, over the
rain-scoured surface; for the odor, which was both sight and sound to
these ants, had been washed away--a more serious handicap than mere
change in contour. Swiftly the wandering individuals found their
bearings again. There was deep water where dry land had been, but, as
if by long-planned study of the work of sappers and engineers, new
pontoon bridges were thrown across, washouts filled in, new cliffs
explored, and easy grades established; and by the time the bamboos
ceased their own private after-shower, the columns were again running
smoothly, battalions of eager light infantry hastening out to battle,
and equal hosts of loot-laden warriors hurrying toward the home nest.
Four minutes was the average time taken to reform a column across the
ten feet of open clay, with all the road-making and engineering feats
which I have mentioned, on the part of ants who had never been over
this new route before.
Leaning forward within a few inches of the post, I lost all sense of
proportion, forgot my awkward human size, and with a new perspective
became an equal of the ants, looking on, watching every passer-by
with interest, straining with the bearers of the heavy loads, and
breathing more easily when the last obstacle was overcome and home
attained. For a period I plucked out every bit of good-sized booty and
found that almost all were portions of scorpions from far-distant dead
logs in the jungle, creatures whose strength and poisonous stings
availed nothing against the attacks of these fierce ants. The loads
were adjusted equably, the larger pieces carried by the big,
white-headed workers, while the smaller ants transported small eggs
and larvæ. Often, when a great mandibled soldier had hold of some
insect, he would have five or six tiny workers surrounding him, each
grasping any projecting part of the loot, as if they did not trust him
in this menial capacity,--as an anxious mother would watch with
doubtful confidence a big policeman wheeling her baby across a crowded
street. These workers were often diminutive Marcelines, hindering
rather than aiding in the progress. But in every phase of activity of
these ants there was not an ounce of intentionally lost power, or a
moment of time wilfully gone to waste. What a commentary on
Bolshevism!
Now that I had the opportunity of quietly watching the long, hurrying
columns, I came hour by hour to feel a greater intimacy, a deeper
enthusiasm for their vigor of existence, their unfailing life at the
highest point of possibility of achievement. In every direction my
former desultory observations were discounted by still greater
accomplishments. Elsewhere I have recorded the average speed as two
and a half feet in ten seconds, estimating this as a mile in three and
a half hours. An observant colonel in the American army has laid bare
my congenitally hopeless mathematical inaccuracy, and corrected this
to five hours and fifty-two seconds. Now, however, I established a
wholly new record for the straight-away dash for home of the army
ants. With the handicap of gravity pulling them down, the ants, both
laden and unburdened, averaged ten feet in twenty seconds, as they
raced up the post. I have now called in an artist and an astronomer to
verify my results, these two being the only living beings within
hailing distance as I write, except a baby red howling monkey curled
up in my lap, and a toucan, sloth, and green boa, beyond my laboratory
table. Our results are identical, and I can safely announce that the
amateur record for speed of army ants is equivalent to a mile in two
hours and fifty-six seconds; and this when handicapped by gravity and
burdens of food, but with the incentive of approaching the end of
their long journey.
As once before, I accidentally disabled a big worker that I was
robbing of his load, and his entire abdomen rolled down a slope and
disappeared. Hours later in the afternoon, I was summoned to view the
same soldier, unconcernedly making his way along an outward-bound
column, guarding it as carefully as if he had not lost the major part
of his anatomy. His mandibles were ready, and the only difference that
I could see was that he could make better speed than others of his
caste. That night he joined the general assemblage of cripples quietly
awaiting death, halfway up to the nest.
I know of no highway in the world which surpasses that of a big column
of army ants in exciting happenings, although I usually had the
feeling which inspired Kim as he watched the Great White Road, of
understanding so little of all that was going on. Early in the morning
there were only outgoing hosts; but soon eddies were seen in the swift
current, vortexes made by a single ant here and there forcing its way
against the stream. Unlike penguins and human beings, army ants have
no rule of the road as to right and left, and there is no lessening of
pace or turning aside for a heavily laden drogher. Their blindness
caused them to bump squarely into every individual, often sending load
and carrier tumbling to the bottom of a vertical path. Another
constant loss of energy was a large cockroach leg, or scorpion
segment, carried by several ants. Their insistence on trying to carry
everything beneath their bodies caused all sorts of comical mishaps.
When such a large piece of booty appeared, it was too much of a
temptation, and a dozen outgoing ants would rush up and seize hold for
a moment, the consequent pulling in all directions reducing progress
at once to zero.
Until late afternoon few ants returned without carrying their bit. The
exceptions were the cripples, which were numerous and very pitiful.
From such fierce strenuousness, such virile activity, as unending as
elemental processes, it seemed a very terrible drop to disability, to
the utilizing of every atom of remaining strength to return to the
temporary home nest--that instinct which drives so many creatures to
the same homing, at the approach of death.
Even in their helplessness they were wonderful. To see a big
black-headed worker struggling up a post with five short stumps and
only one good hind leg, was a lesson in achieving the impossible. I
have never seen even a suspicion of aid given to any cripple, no
matter how slight or how complete the disability; but frequently a
strange thing occurred, which I have often noticed but can never
explain. One army ant would carry another, perhaps of its own size and
caste, just as if it were a bit of dead provender; and I always
wondered if cannibalism was to be added to their habits. I would
capture both, and the minute they were in the vial, the dead ant would
come to life, and with equal vigor and fury both would rush about
their prison, seeking to escape, becoming indistinguishable in the
twinkling of an eye.
Very rarely an ant stopped and attempted to clean another which had
become partly disabled through an accumulation of gummy sap or other
encumbering substance. But when a leg or other organ was broken or
missing, the odor of the ant-blood seemed to arouse only suspicion
and to banish sympathy, and after a few casual wavings of antennæ,
all passed by on the other side. Not only this, but the unfortunates
were actually in danger of attack within the very lines of traffic of
the legionaries. Several times I noticed small rove-beetles
accompanying the ants, who paid little attention to them. Whenever an
ant became suspicious and approached with a raised-eyebrow gesture of
antennæ, the beetles turned their backs quickly and raised threatening
tails. But I did not suspect the vampire or thug-like character of
these guests--tolerated where any other insect would have been torn to
pieces at once. A large crippled worker, hobbling along, had slipped a
little away from the main line, when I was astonished to see two
rove-beetles rush at him and bite him viciously, a third coming up at
once and joining in. The poor worker had no possible chance against
this combination, and he went down after a short, futile struggle. Two
small army ants now happened to pass, and after a preliminary whiffing
with waving antennæ, rushed joyously into the _mêlée_. The beetles had
a cowardly weapon, and raising their tails, ejected a drop or two of
liquid, utterly confusing the ants, which turned and hastened back to
the column. For the next few minutes, until the scent wore off, they
aroused suspicion wherever they went. Meanwhile, the hyena-like
rove-beetles, having hedged themselves within a barricade of their
malodor, proceeded to feast, quarreling with one another as such
cowards are wont to do.
Thus I thought, having identified myself with the army ants. From a
broader, less biased point of view, I realized that credit should be
given to the rove-beetles for having established themselves in a zone
of such constant danger, and for being able to live and thrive in it.
The columns converged at the foot of the post, and up its surface ran
the main artery of the nest. Halfway up, a flat board projected, and
here the column divided for the last time, half going on directly into
the nest, and the other half turning aside, skirting the board,
ascending a bit of perpendicular canvas, and entering the nest from
the rear. The entrance was well guarded by a veritable moat and
drawbridge of living ants. A foot away, a flat mat of ants, mandibles
outward, was spread, over which every passing individual stepped. Six
inches farther, and the sides of the mat thickened, and in the last
three inches these sides met overhead, forming a short tunnel at the
end of which the nest began.
And here I noticed an interesting thing. Into this organic moat or
tunnel, this living mouth of an inferno, passed all the booty-laden
foragers, or those who for some reason had returned empty-mouthed. But
the outgoing host seeped gradually from the outermost nest-layer--a
gradual but fundamental circulation, like that of ocean currents.
Scorpions, eggs, caterpillars, glass-like wasp pupæ, roaches, spiders,
crickets,--all were drawn into the nest by a maelstrom of hunger,
funneling into the narrow tunnel; while from over all the surface of
the swarm there crept forth layer after layer of invigorated,
implacable seekers after food.
The mass of ants composing the nest appeared so loosely connected that
it seemed as if a touch would tear a hole, a light wind rend the
supports. It was suspended in the upper corner of the doorway, rounded
on the free sides, and measured roughly two feet in diameter--an
unnumbered host of ants. Those on the surface were in very slow but
constant motion, with legs shifting and antennæ waving continually.
This quivering on the surface of the swarm gave it the appearance of
the fur of some terrible animal--fur blowing in the wind from some
unknown, deadly desert. Yet so cohesive was the entire mass, that I
sat close beneath it for the best part of two days and not more than a
dozen ants fell upon me. There was, however, a constant rain of
egg-cases and pupa-skins and the remains of scorpions and
grasshoppers, the residue of the booty which was being poured in.
These wrappings and inedible casing were all brought to the surface
and dropped. This was reasonable, but what I could not comprehend was
a constant falling of small living larvæ. How anything except army
ants could emerge alive from such a sinister swarm was inconceivable.
It took some resolution to stand up under the nest, with my face only
a foot away from this slowly seething mass of widespread jaws. But I
had to discover where the falling larvæ came from, and after a time I
found that they were immature army ants. Here and there a small worker
would appear, carrying in its mandibles a young larva; and while most
made their way through the maze of mural legs and bodies and
ultimately disappeared again, once in a while the burden was dropped
and fell to the floor of the outhouse. I can account for this only by
presuming that a certain percentage of the nurses were very young and
inexperienced workers and dropped their burdens inadvertently. There
was certainly no intentional casting out of these offspring, as was so
obviously the case with the débris from the food of the colony. The
eleven or twelve ants which fell upon me during my watch were all
smaller workers, no larger ones losing their grip.
While recording some of these facts, I dropped my pencil, and it was
fully ten minutes before the black mass of enraged insects cleared
away, and I could pick it up. Leaning far over to secure it, I was
surprised by the cleanliness of the floor around my chair. My clothes
and note-paper had been covered with loose wings, dry skeletons of
insects and the other débris, while hundreds of other fragments had
sifted down past me. Yet now that I looked seeingly, the whole area
was perfectly clean. I had to assume a perfect jack-knife pose to get
my face near enough to the floor; but, achieving it, I found about
five hundred ants serving as a street-cleaning squad. They roamed
aimlessly about over the whole floor, ready at once to attack
anything of mine, or any part of my anatomy which might come close
enough, but otherwise stimulated to activity only when they came
across a bit of rubbish from the nest high overhead. This was at once
seized and carried off to one of two neat piles in far corners. Before
night these kitchen middens were an inch or two deep and nearly a foot
in length, composed, literally, of thousands of skins, wings, and
insect armor. There was not a scrap of dirt of any kind which had not
been gathered into one of the two piles. The nest was nine feet above
the floor, a distance (magnifying ant height to our own) of nearly a
mile, and yet the care lavished on the cleanliness of the earth so far
below was as thorough and well done as the actual provisioning of the
colony.
As I watched the columns and the swarm-nest hour after hour, several
things impressed me;--the absolute silence in which the ants
worked;--such ceaseless activity without sound one associates only
with a cinema film; all around me was tremendous energy, marvelous
feats of achievement, super-human instincts, the ceaseless movement of
tens of thousands of legionaries; yet no tramp of feet, no shouts, no
curses, no welcomes, no chanties. It was uncanny to think of a race
of creatures such as these, dreaded by every living being, wholly
dominant in their continent-wide sphere of action, yet born, living
out their lives, and dying, dumb and blind, with no possibility of
comment on life and its fullness, of censure or of applause.
The sweeping squad on the floor was interesting because of its limited
field of work at such a distance from the nest; but close to my chair
were a number of other specialized zones of activity, any one of which
would have afforded a fertile field for concentrated study. Beneath
the swarm on the white canvas, I noticed two large spots of dirt and
moisture, where very small flies were collected. An examination showed
that this was a second, nearer dumping-ground for all the garbage and
refuse of the swarm which could not be thrown down on the kitchen
middens far below. And here were tiny flies and other insects acting
as scavengers, just as the hosts of vultures gather about the
slaughter-house of Georgetown.
The most interesting of all the phases of life of the ants' home town,
were those on the horizontal board which projected from the beam and
stretched for several feet to one side of the swarm. This platform
was almost on a level with my eyes, and by leaning slightly forward on
the chair, I was as close as I dared go. Here many ants came from the
incoming columns, and others were constantly arriving from the nest
itself. It was here that I realized my good fortune and the
achievement of my desires, when I first saw an army ant at rest. One
of the first arrivals after I had squatted to my post, was a big
soldier with a heavy load of roach meat. Instead of keeping on
straight up the post, he turned abruptly and dropped his load. It was
instantly picked up by two smaller workers and carried on and upward
toward the nest. Two other big fellows arrived in quick succession,
one with a load which he relinquished to a drogher-in-waiting. Then
the three weary warriors stretched their legs one after another and
commenced to clean their antennæ. This lasted only for a moment, for
three or four tiny ants rushed at each of the larger ones and began as
thorough a cleaning as masseurs or Turkish-bath attendants. The three
arrivals were at once hustled away to a distant part of the board and
there cleaned from end to end. I found that the focal length of my
8-diameter lens was just out of reach of the ants, so I focused
carefully on one of the soldiers and watched the entire process. The
small ants scrubbed and scraped him with their jaws, licking him and
removing every particle of dirt. One even crawled under him and worked
away at his upper leg-joints, for all the world as a mechanic will
creep under a car. Finally, I was delighted to see him do what no car
ever does, turn completely over and lie quietly on his back with his
legs in air, while his diminutive helpers overran him and gradually
got him into shape for future battles and foraging expeditions.
On this resting-stage, within well-defined limits, were dozens of
groups of two cleaning one another, and less numerous parties of the
tiny professionals working their hearts out on battle-worn soldiers.
It became more and more apparent that in the creed of the army ants,
cleanliness comes next to military effectiveness.
Here and there I saw independent individuals cleaning themselves and
going through the most un-ant-like movements. They scraped their jaws
along the board, pushing forward like a dog trying to get rid of his
muzzle; then they turned on one side and passed the opposite legs
again and again through the mandibles; while the last performance was
to turn over on their backs and roll from side to side, exactly as a
horse or donkey loves to do.
One ant, I remember, seemed to have something seriously wrong. It sat
up on its bent-under abdomen in a most comical fashion, and was the
object of solicitude of every passing ant. Sometimes there were thirty
in a dense group, pushing and jostling; and, like most of our city
crowds, many seemed to stop only long enough to have a moment's morbid
sight, or to ask some silly question as to the trouble, then to hurry
on. Others remained, and licked and twiddled him with their antennæ
for a long time. He was in this position for at least twenty minutes.
My curiosity was so aroused that I gathered him up in a vial, whereat
he became wildly excited and promptly regained full use of his legs
and faculties. Later, when I examined him under the lens, I could find
nothing whatever wrong.
Off at one side of the general cleaning and reconstruction areas was a
pitiful assemblage of cripples which had had enough energy to crawl
back, but which did not attempt, or were not allowed, to enter the
nest proper. Some had one or two legs gone, others had lost an
antenna or had an injured body. They seemed not to know what to
do--wandering around, now and then giving one another a half-hearted
lick. In the midst was one which had died, and two others, each badly
injured, were trying to tug the body along to the edge of the board.
This they succeeded in doing after a long series of efforts, and down
and down fell the dead ant. It was promptly picked up by several
kitchen-middenites and unceremoniously thrown on the pile of
nest-débris. A load of booty had been dumped among the cripples, and
as each wandered close to it, he seemed to regain strength for a
moment, picked up the load, and then dropped it. The sight of that
which symbolized almost all their life-activity aroused them to a
momentary forgetfulness of their disabilities. There was no longer any
place for them in the home or in the columns of the legionaries. They
had been court-martialed under the most implacable, the most impartial
law in the world--the survival of the fit, the elimination of the
unfit.
The time came when we had to get at our stored supplies, over which
the army ants were such an effective guard. I experimented on a
running column with a spray of ammonia and found that it created
merely temporary inconvenience, the ants running back and forming a
new trail. Formaline was more effective, so I sprayed the nest-swarm
with a fifty-per-cent solution, strong enough, one would think, to
harden the very boards. It certainly created a terrible commotion, and
strings of the ants, two feet long, hung dangling from the nest. The
heart of the colony came into view, with thousands of eggs and larvæ,
looking like heaps of white rice-grains. Every ant seized one or the
other and sought escape by the nearest way, while the soldiers still
defied the world. The gradual disintegration revealed an interior
meshed like a wasp's nest, chambered and honeycombed with living tubes
and walls. Little by little the taut guy-ropes, lathes, braces,
joists, all sagged and melted together, each cell-wall becoming
dynamic, now expanding, now contracting; the ceilings vibrant with
waving legs, the floors a seething mass of jaws and antennæ. By the
time it was dark, the swarm was dropping in sections to the floor.
On the following morning new surprises awaited me. The great mass of
the ants had moved in the night, vanishing with every egg and
immature larva; but there was left in the corner of the flat board a
swarm of about one-quarter of the entire number, enshrouding a host of
older larvæ. The cleaning zones, the cripples' gathering-room, all had
given way to new activities, on the flat board, down near the kitchen
middens, and in every horizontal crack.