The ants have died. All of them.
A few weeks ago, there were twenty hanging on at the surface of the ant habitat I had begun back in early August. Every couple of days, there were two less, one less, and over the past weeks they just died. No thanks to the black mold that seemed to spread from some unrecognizable source at the center of the habitat. It began as a white moldy substance which encased a dead ant laying in the tunnel, and within two weeks it had turned an ominous black, threatening to engulf the entirety of blue gel.
Back in the beginning of this experiment, I thought, sure, the ants will die, because all ants, good and bad, die. Whether in captivity or in my yard, they are going to live out their lives, and die. I had no problem with that. In fact, that would be fine. Not only would I have learned something from the daily observations, and fed my fascination with the living creatures by watching their tunnels grow, I would, in the end, have a beautiful, blue-gel masterpiece of perfectly aligned, curved, and symmetrical, ant-crafted tunnels which I would show off like a proud parent (”Look at what my ants did! Aren‘t they beautiful?”)… a one-of-a-kind original art work created by the much ignored ant (unless they are in your house) that no one but myself had thought to display.
I can’t even show off the blue-gel habitat. The dead ants are still stuck in the tunnels, decomposing. The black mold is spreading. The rest of the gel is a cloudy discolored bluish-gray, and dull. When I look at the pictures I took in the beginning, when they were in their heyday of youth and vigor, and the gel was clear and bright blue, I remember the sparkle and the energy they generated amongst themselves, and the spark that touched me. I was a child again, I was a kid, and I wondered as I watched. It was summer at that time. I truly felt, for a week, that I was a kid, and I could play, I could sit and stare and look like I was doing nothing even though I was probably more relaxed and rested than I had ever been before. Sounds silly, but sometimes you just need a break.
I laugh when I think about the first day I brought the ant habitat home and actually went outside. I tried to catch those first ten or so ants. That’s when I learned about different species of ants, and that carpenter ants are not ideal for ant farms because they don’t make very good tunnels, at least from a human observer’s perspective. Might serve a purpose and look great in old, dead logs laying on the forest floor, but not in blue gel. Now they’re gone, and I can’t even save the blue gel to display those wonderfully intricate tunnels.
I want to buy another one, though, and have it in the classroom for my students to watch the tunnels grow each day, and to share in their marvel. They could keep a journal, noting their observations from day to day, celebrate when east and west tunnels meet in the middle. Yeah, after Christmas would be a good time to start a new ant habitat for my classroom. Or two. I still want to compare habitats. Answer those questions I had in the beginning. I still wonder how the tunnels of the ants sent into space three years ago looked. Did they look like the tunnels my ants made?
So, if you know me, and are wondering what I want for Christmas… well, I really don’t want much. Just another ant habitat. The Blue Space Gel Ant Works… you can order them on line… you can get them in the nicer toy stores where science and learning toys are sold. Just a thought. It isn’t for me, really, it’s for my students. If I don’t get one for Christmas, I’ll buy one anyway. And if you have a kid at home who is losing interest in the video games, or who wants too many of them, consider the ant habitat. For 20 bucks you get the blue-gel ant farm, and for another $3 or $4.00, you can buy the ants. That is all… no further costs. No food to feed them. Nothing to do except sit back and enjoy, watch, wonder, and learn. You won’t be disappointed.
Except when they all die.
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