I have no pictures to show of the ant habitat today. There are no new structures that I can see at 7 a.m, but the slightest bud growing off the left side of the tornado-like tunnel I spoke about in yesterday’s entry. It is an exciting development, a promise of another tunnel taking shape, but I know it won’t show up very well in a photo, so I don’t try to take a picture.
When I come home this afternoon after a day-long committee meeting with school staff, I am pleased to see that the little tunnel bud had grown into a short branch, not quite meeting its destination, which is clearly to join with another tunnel less than ¼ inch to the left.
Since my ants are doing nothing when I check in on them, except gathering in their sanctuary of safety, an area I describe in detail in yesterday’s entry, I think it is a good time to open the lid and let in some fresh air. None of the ants respond to my prying up the lid. I gently blow some air into the habitat. Twice. The air makes its way through the tunnels. I can tell when it reaches the ants when they suddenly come to life, spreading out in all directions, filling the tunnels to reach the surface. By the time they reach the top, I have the lid snugly in place. "Just kidding," I say.
I enjoy watching them scurry through the tunnels. They look vital, alive, and interesting this way. I don’t know if I like the ants more, or the tunnels they create. The tunnels do not exist without the ants, and the ants live to create the tunnels. The two seem inseparable. Take away the ants, you have no tunnels. Remove the tunnels, if you could, and the ants will just make more! This is what happens when one is looking at ants up close… one starts to think about deep topics like… well…, like tunnels.
When I was a little girl, I loved building roadways and tunnels in the sandy play area behind our home in Manchester, New Hampshire. That would be 1963. I was ten years old. I remember that time because that’s where we lived when President Kennedy was assassinated. Like everyone else my age, you remember exactly where you were when JFK was killed. We lived in a recently built neighborhood called the Projects. That’s what we heard our parents, our neighbors, and our friends call it. I didn’t know what “projects” meant back then, but as a child, it was my home, and the home of all my friends. We played freely in the open backyards of each apartment building. We walked to school from there because bussing kids to school had only just started and I did not want to ride the bus. What a strange idea that was to me at that time!
My favorite activity to do when I was alone, which was rare as I was the oldest of six children by then (number seven had not yet been born, but was on the way), and there were children living in the apartments above us and below us, was to sit in the sand and soil mix, and run my hands through it, creating paths, then roads, then tunnels, through which I could maneuver my brothers’ little cars and trucks. It wasn’t a sandbox, mind you, as there was no frame to box in the great play area. It was just sitting on top of the ground, like it had been left over from construction at the site. Of course, I didn’t know where the sand came from, and never even wondered about it. It was there, and I loved to indulge in my childish fantasy of other places and other worlds. I was the creator of these worlds. I designed neighborhoods, villages, then towns, with carefully planned roads that wound up hills and disappeared into dark holes... until another kid would show up and either join me in my endeavor, or step all over them.
The sixties were a tumultuous time for adults, but I was not quite a teen-ager when America began sending soldiers into Viet Nam. I must have had some anxiety about the world, for I remember doodling on paper when I was supposed to be doing my homework. I had imagined an underwater tunnel network. My drawings showed rooms, or chambers in which my imaginary families could live safely. I planned elaborate stories about the people, what they did in each room. These undersea tunnels could be extended to include multiple families, but my drawings focused on the needs of one family. I drew a chamber for the kids to sleep in, a living area, a cooking area, and even an area to put the trash. One chamber was designated as “my room,” and I put a lot of detail into what my tunnel chamber would look like if I could live there. In this world of underwater tunnels, I felt safe and happy. I must have read about the ways of ants, or heard about them, because they pretty much resembled ant tunnels.
Looking back, I don’t know why I became preoccupied with the tunnels and connecting chambers. Partly, I think the design of the curving, winding tunnels, and the rounded, wider chambers they opened into, were comforting to look at. In my mind, they represented safety and security. They calmed me at a time when I didn't comprehend the news I heard of civil rights violence, of young men going to war in Viet Nam, and of National Guard soldiers firing at college students. I didn't understand the real world at all. And here I am today, once again preoccupied with tunnels. What am I anxious about, I wonder? What am I trying to dig out of, or into, in my life? Tunnels symbolize searching the depths one's life. Yes, that is what I'm doing! A journal topic not to be covered here (no pun intended!).
Tunnels, underground walkways, secretive, hidden, living, thriving, growing. Keywords that come to mind when I think of tunnels. Other images crop up when I think of tunnels, for instance, the chunnel, or the tunnel in the English channel which connected England to France for the first time in 8,000 years. It was completed in 1991. It cost 13.5 billion dollars, is 7.6 meters in diameter, extends over 23 miles underwater, and was funded by 220 banks in 26 nations. Eleven boring machines costing 90 million dollars, drilled at the rate of 300 meters a week. Many construction crews of various nationalities worked on this project for four years. It was an amazing feat, a celebrated accomplishment for both the French and the British, in fact, for greater Europe. Strong, practical, friendly, connecting, and transportation. Keywords for this kind of tunnel.
When I see the word tunnels, I also think about tunnels that soldiers have to dig in times of war for their own protection. Known as trench warfare, it was a common practice during World War I, specifically in a small town in Belgium. Soldiers not only lived in these tunnels while fighting raged on the land above them, but they also used the underground pathways to attack their enemies from below. Hidden, daring, secret, safe, and attack. Keywords for this kind of tunnel.
There are many more kinds of tunnels, many famous tunnels, but why should I have all the fun doing the research…? I invite you to surf the net yourself. So many interesting facts on nearly any topic imaginable. I give you a few below. I’m sure you’ll find many more that are even better. Leave a comment in this entry regarding your favorite web-site.
Or, if you know me, email me some of your favorite websites, and don’t forget to give some details regarding why you like it. It doesn’t even have to be about ants or tunnels. Just a favorite of yours, and why. If I get enough responses, I may add a journal entry to include them this week. So, go ahead… get on the net, and read something that is so interesting, you want to find out more, and more. Learn about something new today!!
Come again. Thanks for visiting me today. BeaG
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http://www.hotchkiss.k12.co.us/hhs/English/webfolios/mattjen/chunmj.html Read here more details of the Eurotunnel in a paper by Matt Jenson. I tried to email him for permission to link, but it seems the email address is no longer valid. However, above is the link in case you want to read more about this topic. http://library.thinkquest.org/3893/ Click here at this educational website designed by Indian Hill students for more about famous underground tunnels, caverns, and caves. http://www.bbc.co.uk/insideout/eastmidlands/series6/underground_tunnels.shtml Here you can read about the importance of tunnels for soldiers in WWI, and the meaning of trench warfare. Linked with permission.
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