Wednesday, December 06, 2006

The Ants Go Marching One by One, Hurrah, Hurrah

Although we first moved to San Diego almost ten years ago during a warm and inviting summer season, the holiday decorations going up all over town have reminded me of our first Christmas here. El Niño had been a recent occurrence, so San Diego hillsides were particularly lush and green back then. The skies here were quite blue by comparison to that which we left behind in the City of Angels. They still are, comparatively. And, nearly ten years ago, traffic in San Diego was not what it is here today, and even today it is still 1,000,000 times better when going from one place to another in San Diego than that with which we coped commuting from the west side to any place else in L.A. But we did have to learn to contend with one element in San Diego that didn’t really seem to hit our radar in Beverly Hills: All Creatures Great and Small. I’ve shared the story of the Raccoon Incursion of 2000, and the Bee Ball Formation of 2003, so, in the spirit of the holiday season, I will share the story of the Ant Invasion of 1998, and the Christmas poem I wrote for Tom subsequent to the event.

You may have guessed that when Tom wants something done, he is accomplished, goal-oriented, and, uh, er, um, hmmm, tenacious. In a good way. Really. Well, usually. So when we came to the conclusion that the house we had just moved was actually a life-sized Uncle Milton’s Ant Farm, Tom wasn’t going to stand by and watch the little ebony invaders take over without fighting back. It seemed like every time we’d leave the house, only to return a short time later, we’d find that replacement troops had been sent in for all of the ants that had only just been sprayed or squished before we’d left. Tom stood his ground against the rebel forces from the dark side, but he didn’t care to be in the trenches without a unit to command. And so Tom took it upon himself to draft Kristen and Courtney in the battle to kill the oppressive Iridomyrmex humilis army and turn our home back into a democracy. The children’s conscription into what Tom called “ant patrol” came one day after he'd returned home to find them watching T.V., oblivious to the long, thick line of black ants that had begun marching across the kitchen floor and into the dining room. “Kristen and Courtney,” he barked with authority, “You can’t just sit on your butts watching T.V.” The kids looked up at him glassy eyed. “Every twenty minutes or so, you have to get up and do an ant patrol,” Tom commanded. The kids were able to keep straight faces, I think, because their brains had been numbed by reruns, and maybe because they could read how serious Dad really was. (In Tom’s defense, the territorial battle had become daunting at times.) Tom continued, “And if you see any ants, don’t just kill them. You must extend your thumb, press down on each ant one at a time without smearing it, and then wipe the ant body from your thumb with a napkin. That way there’s no mess.”

Now that the ant invasion is long behind us, we can laugh about it. Well, the kids do. And I hope that Tom can. I’ll know after he reads this. Of course, I started laughing about it a day or so after the last ant had met its maker, and so that same year I wrote this poem for Tom for Christmas:


‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the house
not a creature was stirring,
—except for an ant!

Though the stockings were hung
by the chimney with care,
no one thought a black creature
would be found lurking there.

The cuddle kids were nestled all snug in their beds,
while Nick at Night reruns filled the space in their heads.
But the mere sight of an insect the color of coal,
made it clear that these children had neglected their ant patrol.

With Cheri in her flannels and Tom in the buff,
we feared that this battle soon would get rough.
Using their thumbs the kids smashed them at will,
but the ants were winning since we lived on their hill.

Then out on the street there arose such a clatter,
Tom sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window like a flash he flew,
tore open the shutter – pausing, of course, to admire his view.

The moon on the windows of the tract houses did glow,
and Tom thought once again, “I love San Diego.”
When what to his wondering eyes should appear,
but a Terminix truck filled with poison so dear.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
we knew in a moment, Tom would stop being a ______.
More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Now Chemical! Now Compound! Now, Polluntant and Toxic!
On, Cyanide! On, Hemlock! Agent Orange and Arsenic!
Spray the backyard! The kitchen! Get inside the wall!
Now pass away! Pass away! Pass away all!”

9 comments:

Bryce Boe said...

I love that story. I remember when there were a few ants at your Poway house and everyone was going around squashing them with their thumbs and retelling the story of the previous ant invasion.

I imagine there must have been a small attack recently?

Cheri said...

Nope. No attacks, big or small. I have a secret weapon in the war on bug terror: R&D Pest Control. Rick over there is Da Man! We haven't seen a single ant, spider, or any unwanted crawlies since those early days in Poway.

Bryce Boe said...

Well that's good. We have a continuous ant problem, but it's just part of every day life now.

At least we got rid of our microwave which became home to some cockroaches who liked to sleep on the LED display.

Cheri said...

LOL (but cringing inside)!

Trish said...

Weirdly often, you blog about the exact topic that I had in mind to blog about. I'll be darned if you did'nt do it again today. I SWEAR I was going to do an ant blog tonight. My house too, is built on an ant colony that I DID have under control until I was tented for termites recently. I guess ants love little dead termite carcasses. And they are BAAACCKK... with a vengeance. This very morning, as I poured my lovely Aveda rosemary and mint conditioner into my hand, I noticed tiny dark flecks, dotting the crème, which were none other than said little ebony black warriors segments! Little f-ing f-ers! (Edited for underage eyes). My lovely Aveda rosemary and mint conditioner went out with the coffee grounds this morning. :-(

Courtney!! said...

i remember sitting in CPK and dad asking how to kill and i demonstrated how to correctly do it. Yay no ants in Tucson!!

CC said...

adorable poem. Unfortunatetly, they seem to be back in force at my home. So my fix may only have been temporary. :(

SuburbanCorrespondent said...

I'm with your husband on this one. I'm always sending my kids on ant patrols.

Tranny said...

We once had carpenter ants in our house in a mass swarm after a big rainstorm. These biotches were big and winged and scary as hell! There would have been no squashing with thumb of these ... we skipped straight to the poison! Hooray for carcinogenic chemicals!