As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport.
That’s what Shakespeare so memorably and brilliantly said in King Lear.
I am not quite a wanton boy swatting flies; I never have. However, I have been doing something that is not entirely kind—to ants. No, I do not kill them. Not at all. But since there has been a steady stream of them showing up every day on my desk lately, I have to frequently blow them away or swipe them away. Strangely, they never give up. They come back persistently even though there is no food to be had on my desk. I am not sure what they are looking for in the faux growth rings of the faux wooden desk of mine. I have seen some of them staying there unmoved for several minutes at a time. Most peculiar.
The reason why I thought of wanton boys and Shakespeare and gods is because what I do to them by swiping them away or blowing them away ought to be absolutely shocking to them if they had the ability to process it. I put myself in their situation and wonder how I might feel if I were unexpectedly swiped or blown away by a force I cannot necessarily fathom. I am reasonably certain that ants do not know who or what I am, if they are at all aware of my existence. These small black ants are not harmful to me in that they do not sting even though they have biting mandibles and stinger.
The problem is left to them they would show up in tens of thousands causing a terrible nuisance to me. I would not be able to write about ants if thousands of them started crawling on my keyboard and desk. I can handle a few. For instance, a couple just showed up while writing this sentence and I gently swiped them off using a handkerchief. I could see that they landed on the windowsill about a foot away from desk. In order for them to come back they have to travel down the window and up my desk’s leg which is quite a task. And yet they return. I am not sure if they are same ants or different ones because I can’t tell the difference. They all look the same to me. I am not being an ant racist here. I genuinely cannot. Can you?
