When we returned from our trip to Puerto Viejo, our friend Louis, who had been staying in our house, pointed to the ground and said, “Hay hormigas cortadoras de hojas!”
We saw a tiny flotilla of green sailing down the hill. Then we noticed that Jack’s rose bushes and my jasmine had been stripped and carried away by leaf cutter ants. And they’d had the temerity to start munching on my gardenia as well. Louis showed us the three-inch ant-highway that led from our garden past the pump house, turned right, marched up the mountain for about 120 yards, then headed into the forest.
The ant highway
We were lucky. A leaf cutter colony can consume as much leaf matter in a day as a full-grown cow. The little devils can devour an entire eucalyptus tree overnight. Can you say voracious?
Jack went to work spreading little green poison pellets along the trail for them to pick up and take back to the nest. Then they’d never come out again. I know. We’re guilty of mass ant extermination. Either we’ll get our punishment later, or we won’t.
Jack doing his own leaf cutting
The ant highway emptied quickly, but the critters remained. They still rushed around sawing off leaves with their powerful little jaws. Where were they taking their booty? Into the stump of a tree outside our fence. Jack pulled out the stump and hit the ants with his insect arsenal. More dead ants. Lots and lots of them. Millions, even.
We thought that was the conclusion of our ant adventures, but it turned out otherwise. A few days ago, Jack stepped into a clean pair of shorts and suddenly began hopping and yelping, “There are ants in these pants!” He ripped them off, picked up a can of bug killer, and rushed outside.
“That’s strange,” I said. “Maybe you left a piece of candy in your pocket.”
Jack investigated, and found that each pair of shorts was a home to ants. The drawer had become a veritable colony. The whole gang was in there. Karmic revenge? Who knows? At least they weren’t trying to carry the shorts away.
