One day when I went out to my woodpile, or rather my pile of stumps, I
observed two large ants, the one red, the other much larger, nearly half
an inch long, and black, fiercely contending with one another. Having
once got hold, they never let go, but struggled and wrestled and rolled
on the chips incessantly. Looking farther, I was surprised to find that
the chips were covered with such combatants; that it was a war between
two races of ants, the red always pitted against the black, and
frequently two red ones to one black.
[Illustration: H. D. THOREAU]
The legions of these warriors covered all the hills and vales in my
wood-yard, and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying,
both red and black. It was the only battle which I have ever witnessed,
the only battlefield I ever trod while the battle was raging;
internecine war: the red republicans on the one hand, and the black
imperialists on the other. On every side they were engaged in deadly
combat, yet without any noise that I could hear, and human soldiers
never fought so resolutely.
I watched a couple that were fast locked in each other’s embraces, in a
little sunny valley amid the chips, now at noonday prepared to fight
till the sun went down, or life went out. The smaller red champion had
fastened himself like a vise to his adversary’s front, and through all
the tumblings on that field, never for an instant ceased to gnaw at one
of his feelers near the root, having already caused the other to go by
the board; while the stronger black one dashed him from side to side,
and, as I saw on looking nearer, had already divested him of several of
his members.
In the meanwhile there came along a single red ant, evidently full of
excitement, who either had despatched his foe, or had not yet taken part
in the battle. He saw this unequal combat from afar,--for the blacks
were nearly twice the size of the red;--he drew near with rapid pace
till he stood on his guard within half an inch of the combatants; then,
watching his opportunity, he sprang upon the black warrior, and
commenced his operations near the root of his right fore-leg, leaving
the foe to select among his own members. So there were three united for
life, as if a new kind of attraction had been invented which put all
other locks and cements to shame.
I took up the chip on which the three were struggling, carried it into
my house, and placed it under a tumbler on my window-sill, in order to
see the issue. Holding a microscope to the first-mentioned red ant, I
saw that, though he was assiduously gnawing at the near fore-leg of his
enemy, having severed his remaining feeler, his own breast was all torn
away, exposing what vitals he had there to the jaws of the black
warrior, whose breastplate was too thick for him to pierce; and the dark
carbuncles of the sufferer’s eyes shone with ferocity such as only war
could excite.
They struggled half an hour longer under the tumbler, and when I looked
again, the black soldier had severed the heads of his foes from their
bodies, and the still living heads were hanging on either side of him
like ghastly trophies at his saddle-bow, still apparently as firmly
fastened as ever, and he was endeavoring with feeble struggles, being
without feelers and with only the remnant of a leg, and I know not how
many other wounds, to divest himself of them; which at length, after an
hour more, he accomplished. I raised the glass, and he went off over the
window-sill in that crippled state. Whether he finally survived that
combat, I do not know; but I thought that his industry would not be
worth much thereafter. I never learned which party was victorious, nor
the cause of the war; but I felt for the rest of that day as if I had
had my feelings excited and harrowed by witnessing the struggle, the
ferocity, and carnage of a human battle before my door.--HENRY DAVID
THOREAU.
* * * * *
Oh, many a shaft at random sent,
Finds mark the archer little meant!
And many a word at random spoken,
May soothe, or wound, a heart that’s broken.