Grease ants: so small, they can march through crevasses to narrow for ordinary pests.
Grease ants: so cunning, when encountering a patch of grease laced with ant poison, they eat the grease but leave the poison.
Until this weekend, the only means of slowing them down was the application of vinegar spray. And even that was only a temporary measure. They kept coming back.
Always, they kept coming back!
Then, my eldest daughter, after exhaustive research, came up with a new instrumentality through which this household might emerge victorious against the ants!
- Talcum powder
- Instant coffee
- Ground cinnamon
- Chili powder
Success! Today, I can confidently say that the ants have been defeated, or at least repelled.
My daughter told of one ant she had observed. The creature advanced along a supply line until it encountered a grain of the noxious compound. Retreating, it adjusted its course and tried again, only to be thwarted once more. Again and again it tried, and failed, to circumvent the instrumentality of our new offensive.
I, myself, witnessed an ant: no doubt one of the last of the horde; running from one to another of its fallen comrades. In most cases, the sad creature approached closely enough to be within, I should think, antenna-reach before quickly turning aside to approach another corpse. Sometimes, perhaps because the evidence of destruction was so obvious, the lone survivor turned away while still at a distance.
Although I could, of course, hear nothing, I imagined the lone survivor calling out as it approached each fallen ant, "Abigail?" "Adelynn?" "No! Not Ahdena!" "Aldalee?" "Oh, no: They got Althea!" "Ambret?" "Azilda?" And so on, across the grim landscape.
It may seen cold, even heartless, but I feel but only a small pang of pity for the creatures who invaded our domain.