The peripatetic ant

The ant crawled across the windscreen of the car, right in my line of vision. Ever since the spider-bite incident, I am wary of creatures that have any kind of personal arsenal hitching a ride, so my first thought was to defenestrate the little blighter. It was only a split second later that I realised how far he was from home.

I had been driving a good half an hour without stopping, so he had probably hopped aboard before I left. Ants are social creatures, pretty much defined by their role within their community. What, I thought, would a lone ant do if he suddenly found himself in unfamiliar territory, miles from home?

Would his sense of belonging be so decimated that he would curl up and die? Would he find another community… and if he did, would he be accepted or slain as an intruder? Or would he begin the long trek home, drawn by some unseen force to the place of his beginnings?

I couldn’t do it. I left him to wander the dashboard, hoping he would understand that all he had to do was let the journey take him where it would, before it carried him home.

I thought about him a lot as I drove, wondering what his reception would be after the journey? What tales might he communicate to his nest-mates about the big, wide, world out there and all the things he had seen. Could they believe him? Like the fantasy hero who steps into a magical time and place, he would have been gone no more than an hour or two from his home, yet his odyssey would have carried him as far as a worker-ant might walk in a dozen ant-lives. Would they accept his fantastic story or think him delusional?

Ants who had never set foot outside the colony would almost certainly dismiss his tale. Those who had ventured out, but only within the known confines of their territory, might doubt. Some would be envious, others would scoff. The likelihood is that only those who had themselves risked stepping beyond known ground, exploring the world on behalf of the colony, would see the glimmer of truth and recognise an echo of their own explorations in the traveller’s tale.

And what of the little ant? Was he afraid of the unknown, or excited to explore new and unimagined realms? Did he recognise the landscape that flew by at such speed as being akin to his home, or did he feel as if he had been plucked out of his world and transported to some magical otherworld by a giant with a roaring steed? How would he see life-after-journeying? Would it seem flat and boring, or safe and comfortable? Would he cower in corners, afraid of stepping outside his comfort-zone ever again? Would he ‘dine out’ on his travels, boring is nest-mates with tales of ‘when’ and ‘where’? Or would the change in his circumstances and perspective have been so dramatic that he would spend the rest of his life pondering existential questions or striving to be worthy of the privilege he had been accorded?

Such musings occupied my mind until we once again reached home and I set him down on the grass beside my parking space. Like the ant, I had taken a journey, within the journey that is my life. Because this was ‘my’ world, the destination and the route were both familiar to me, though there are always unknowns on the way and no-one can predict what will happen, or how the comfort-zone of familiarity will be challenged… especially when you look at life as a journey.

There is beauty to be witnessed, there are mysteries and magic to be found; we never know when or where, nor do we know how we will greet them or how others will react if we try to share such experiences with our own community.

I watched the tiny creature scurry away into the grass. I suddenly wondered what I had done and whether my interference, though well-intentioned, had produced the right effect. Had I set him down anywhere near his home? What if he’d been with me a while… had come from my son’s home or the supermarket… and was now lost in some strange landscape? Had my intervention caused more harm than good? Or was he destined to be a blackbird’s breakfast no matter where he wandered?

To some questions we will never have answers, but I felt a keen sense of kinship with the ant as he disappeared beneath the grass. We are both on a journey. It will carry us where it will and we will experience what we must… and we are both on a greater journey still, finding the way back to the beginning.

39 thoughts on “The peripatetic ant

  1. There are days where I try to find a way to get inside the head of my dogs, to try to understand why they do what they do. They have reasons, but I have no way to know what they are. For that matter, I don’t fully understand most people, either. They do things that short of a gun at my or Garry’s head, I would never even consider doing, yet they do them voluntarily — and they are not “other” creatures. They are supposed to be ‘just like me.’ But they aren’t just like me. I don’t know which of us are the odd ones out.

    Liked by 4 people

      1. Oh, so true. Right now, I’m just trying to patiently help my husband realize that he’s just two weeks out of surgery so he isn’t finished “getting better” yet. That’s quite hard enough. I think understanding anything or anyone is rough! And this has not been an easy month.


        1. I believe it can take six weeks for the anasthetic to clear the system…and with this heat…
          To fully understand anyone, we would have to ‘be’ them; empathy brings us close and love closer still, though I think the two are facets of the same jewel.


          1. I have often tried to get into someone else’s head. Ultimately I decided it wasn’t such a good idea. Empathy, yes, but if there is any space that ought to be absolutely private, your head has got to be one of them. I guess I’ll have to depend on conversations, asking question, and hopefully getting real answers 😀 Texts do NOT count.


    1. The ant and I have a lot in common, I think. Our journey through life is unplanned…by us at least… and every step we take away from ‘home’, or on the return journey, will change us. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I’ll never look at an ant the same way now! I usually carry spiders out of the way, not on my hand! – for the same reason. I have had several in the pool lately with egg sacs. One was so pregnant that when I lifted her out of the pool – on a net – that she gave births to hundreds of little ones right on the pool deck. An amazing site.


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