The Ants Go Marching
Author’s note: Like my piece on the Ducks of Don Chedi, I am a little nerd at heart. So please forgive my fun fact ramblings. Gretchen Evans, 136 YinD
It all started with a science experiment.
Much like my ม.1 (seventh grade) boys who randomly like to set things on fire, I also had an odd, violent streak when I was a kid. At a much younger age, too.
In third grade, I found myself in my backyard contemplating what on earth I should do for the upcoming science fair. I couldn’t make a lame, erupting volcano. Too basic. What would wow my judges, my teachers, my peers? Interrupting my groundbreaking thoughts were the excruciatingly painful stings of the devil’s spawn, AKA fire ants. I was unknowingly sitting on an ant hill.
Now, I have had my fair share of run-ins with fire ants before this. One of my earliest memories of childhood was when my mom rescued me from an ant hill in California. I remember the scary feeling and sight of all these tiny insects crawling rapidly all over my body. Not long after, my family moved to San Antonio, where I learned of the ant species called Crazy [tawny] ants, sometimes the term “piss ants” used interchangeably. My dad and I would watch them battle it out with fire ants, and I always found joy in cheering on the little guy. Later on, in my entomology class in college, I would discover the secret to the smaller ant’s victories! Crazy ants can counter the venom from fire ants, which really hasn’t been seen by scientists before in the ant family.
Like the lanternfly riddling the East Coast of the United States, fire ants are an invasive species. My elementary school Texas education taught me that they contribute significantly to the population loss of a variety of animals, like the beloved Horny Toad (the TCU mascot!).
As I was growing up and developing my frontal lobe, pop culture continued to make ants relevant. Nursery rhymes and educational learning tools taught me about intimidating carpenter ants, artistic leaf cutter ants, and little black ants, A Bug’s Life and its TEMU equivalent *Antz made me empathise with these tiny creatures, and Webkinz had me obsessed with this adequately named arcade game called Picnic.
*Fun fact: Antz was released first, in October 1998, followed by A Bug's Life in November 1998. Antz was rushed into production by DreamWorks to beat Pixar's A Bug's Life to theaters due to a heated rivalry between DreamWorks' Jeffrey Katzenberg and Disney/Pixar.Everywhere I looked, it felt like ants crawled their way into view. One of my most fascinating memories with fire ants was during a flash flood in San Antonio. My dad likes to tell me Big Fish stories, and he told me about the times in his childhood where he and his brother, during flooding, would approach these giant Fire Ant balls and agitate them for the hell of it. I could never believe his tall tale about the size and method of these Fire Ant balls until I saw one myself! I was floored by nature yet again. My sister and I used to love to splash around in our rain boots and dance in the rain until the sun shined and a rainbow marked the storm’s completion. One of those times before the storm had passed, I witnessed the fire ant raft my dad had described and adjusted my suspension of disbelief. There, floating along the street was a frightening ball of fire ants holding on to each other for dear life. It looked like the infamous It gutterscene as I watched the ants get swallowed by the storm drain. I wondered if I should pity the things that cause me enormous welts or allow karma to perform its duty.
Despite all the reasons to despise fire ants, I admire their tenaciousness. Those f***ers never quit. This mentality these devils possess makes me think that the only possible reason my beloved childhood hockey team could name themselves after Fire Ants is to project a lack of remorse.
My admiration for them is not stronger than my contempt, though. Ridden with fire ant bites, I experienced my light bulb moment and my science fair project was conceived: Fire Ants versus Club Soda. That’s right. I decided to periodically drown a fire ant colony near my house and document if they were permanently eradicated or would eventually return. Surprisingly, no one called PETA on me in 2009, but I may have made their watch list.
Besides the occasional cow killer sighting, as I got older, I found myself outdoors less for roaming around and more for soccer practice and running. I encountered these creatures less and less, and my relationship with ants was limited to a few squishes here and there.
Fast forward many, many years, and I find myself in Don Chedi, Thailand, hopeful for a future in Peace Corps service. I had just met my host family and was prepared to try new food. Little did I know that my diet would consist of live ants!
My host Grandma during Pre Service Training (PST) was kind, but also blind. Literally blind. She has cataracts and is also hard of hearing. I’ll say this: the food I was given would not pass any food safety standards. While ant eggs are not an unusual snack in Isaan, the preparation of the ants I ate with my host Grandma was completely different. She would generously buy me dinner or a nice treat, but leave it out on the table where ants also considered it theirs. She never really did notice/see them (or was simply unbothered). By the time I would return from the Tessaban, my food was plagued with ants. I will not go into the methods in which we (I) got rid of them, but let’s just say I was once again becoming well acquainted with these creatures! While I did not let my unchangeable diet significantly impact my time during PST, I would be remiss to say this wasn’t a core experience for me.
A year later, the next volunteer housed with my host Grandma had a similar predicament. While we both had to wallow in total suckitude for a few months, it was nice to have someone in this world who went through what I went through – trauma bonding at its finest.
While I consider myself a generally clean person (I shower at least twice a day - kon thai leeo), I still find myself with ants casually perched on my arm. I am also in a life stage of reversion – I am outdoors very often. Ants have and will always be around. They adapt. They are resilient.
Gretchen two years ago would freak out if a giant ant crawled on me. Now, with the nonchalance of a seasoned pro, I simply pluck the insects off and place them nearby so they can be on their way. This practice has been going on for around eleven months, as it still took some getting used to upon my arrival at site.
My change in attitude has sparked a recent conversation with one of my friends, Garrett. We study Thai together, and I couldn’t help but point out how deep my empathetic nature has seeped. On a real note, I have felt some type of spiritual connection with this specific type of ant I have seen around my community. Where I wouldn’t think twice of squishing ants in my past life, I observe these guys with sincerity and tenderness. I feel like I can sense their turmoil and envision their mission. My curiosity won and I went about researching my twin flame, otherwise known as the weaver ant.
To my surprise, my little pals, weaver ants, are HIGHLY aggressive. Weaver ants get their name from the way they weave leaves together using their young’s silk into a home and giant colony. Their network can span across multiple trees (around 500,000 individual ants!) and are used by Thai farmers as a natural pest control for their land. They are also the species of ants of the aforementioned Isaan delicacy, the treat known as kai mod daeng. I’ve tried this earthy dish and I am not a fan.
I believe my weaver ants at my school and home know I do not partake in eating their eggs. They must think I am their ally! While all Google searches and warnings from my community tell me to avoid these ants, their behavior towards me says otherwise. I am telling you, reader of Sticky Rice, I am a weaver ant whisperer. They crawl on me as if I am another twig or branch to get to their next destination. They mean me no harm.
I mostly jest, but I have found their relentless (re)construction of their home fascinating. It is well into the rainy season, and my ant friends continue to weave downpour after downpour, destruction after destruction. If they can carry on, so can I!
I found out I would lose State recognition at the science fair due to the murderous nature of my experiment. Perhaps I was moved up on PETA’s hitlist. Now, I can see this loss as a mere hiccup, as I am currently the supreme leader of the weaver ants. I am Ant-Woman, if you will. And for that, I am grateful.
P.S. Google “the ants go marching” for a fun little surprise.