Adam and the Ants

 

Ants were a new obsession, one he thought would last a long time. Adam read every book from the library on the topic. His mother supported his thirst for knowledge by locating several informative television programs. Adam could spout off the names of twenty different species, followed by random facts associated with each one. This is a talent his fellow fourth graders found rather annoying. 

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The Easter Bunny—really his mother—left a nicely wrapped gift in his basket this morning. Its contents were undoubtedly an ant farm. Adam did not need to feign excitement when he tore the package open. As soon as its contents were exposed, he let out a gleeful scream. He smiled at his mother, and she smiled back.
 

The ant farm was the size of a cereal box and had that new plastic toy smell. Yet this was more than a toy. It matched the model he circled in the science supply catalog. A clear blue solid filled the interior, it would serve as the ants’ tunneling material, and thanks to the marvels of science and engineering, it would also be their food. His mother had not stopped smiling at him. She had done well.
 

“How did the Easter Bunny know you like ants?”
 

“Mom,” he said shaking his head, smiling. “It’s perfect.”
 

Adam pulled everything out of the box. Although he knew the ants would not be inside, he felt disappointed when he read the blue postcard. For $9.99 in shipping and handling, his ants would arrive in six weeks. Six weeks, an eternity, it would be torture.
 

His father read the back of the box. “It says here you can get your own ants from a meadow or field. It'll house up to twenty harvester ants. Use that clear cup.” His father pointed.
 

“I’ve seen harvesters at the park.” Adam’s could hardly contain his excitement. “Can I go, mom, please?”
 

“Yes, you can go. Just be sure you're back before lunch. Grandma and Grandpa will be coming over.”
 

Before she even finished talking, Adam was in his room, shoving the clear plastic collection cup into his backpack. He darted to the garage, pulled his bicycle into the driveway, and jumped on it. Without stopping, he went into full peddling motion, circling his feet as fast as he could. He arrived at the park in record time.
 

It took him several minutes, but eventually he found a mound. He located a stick, and began harvesting the harvesters. He captured the maximum amount his father said would fit in the ant farm. When he finished, he gave the lid a tight twist. He placed the full collection container in his backpack, and rode back home, as quickly as he rode out.
 

At home, Adam used the stick to drop them one-by-one into the ant farm. The ants immediately began reshaping their surroundings. He watched them dig tunnels, gather food, and play. He spent hours studying their movements. He liked placing random objects in the center, to watch their reactions. The whole ant farm was exactly what he had expected.
 

And then, travesty struck.
 

It was just one at first. Adam watched an ant pick up a dead friend and carry her to a corner. Another day passed, and a second one died. A different ant, or perhaps the same one, carried the deceased to the corner. This was the beginnings of an ant graveyard. After a week, the number of living ants fell to fifteen. A few days later, it was thirteen.
 

Their death was Adam’s fault, and he knew it. He pulled them from their colony in the park. He felt wholly responsible for their fate. Eleven. He placed water and a sugar cube in the middle. Only some of them ate. A lot of them looked hopeless and weak.
 

Nine. Death was a new concept for Adam. He knew what death was of course, but this was the first time he experienced it firsthand. His family never had pets, not even a fish. All his grandparents were alive and healthy. No one around him had any reason to talk about death. He remembered watching Bambi lose his mother on television, but that was a movie. The ant farm's barrage of death was real, continuous, prolonged, and tortuous. They were only seven left.
 

Adam watched as the ant graveyard grew in size. It became the prominent structure in his ant farm. Six. He watched the ants spend the little energy they had on carrying dead family members to their final resting place. The ants were not having fun. Adam was not having fun.
When the number fell to five, Adam returned the survivors to their original home in the park. He did not want the ant farm anymore. He was done with ants.

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