All this strange work was hurried and carried on under great
excitement. The scores of big soldiers on guard appeared rather ill at
ease, as if they had wandered by mistake into the wrong department.
They sauntered about, bumped into larvæ, turned and fled. A constant
stream of workers from the nest brought hundreds more larvæ; and no
sooner had they been planted and débris of sorts sifted over them,
than they began spinning. A few had already swathed themselves in
cocoons--exceedingly thin coverings of pinkish silk. As this took
place out of the nest,--in the jungle they must be covered with wood
and leaves. The vital necessity for this was not apparent, for none of
this débris was incorporated into the silk of the cocoons, which were
clean and homogeneous. Yet the hundreds of ants gnawed and tore and
labored to gather this little dust, as if their very lives depended
upon it.
With my hand-lens focused just beyond mandible reach of the biggest
soldier, I leaned forward from my insulated chair, hovering like a
great astral eye looking down at this marvelously important business
of little lives. Here were thousands of army ants, not killing, not
carrying booty, nor even suspended quiescent as organic molecules in
the structure of the home, yet in feverish activity equaled only by
battle, making ready for the great change of their foster offspring. I
watched the very first thread of silk drawn between the larva and the
outside world, and in an incredibly short time the cocoon was outlined
in a tissue-thin, transparent aura, within which the tenant could be
seen skilfully weaving its own shroud.
When first brought from the nest, the larvæ lay quite straight and
still; but almost at once they bent far over in the spinning position.
Then some officious worker would come along, and the unfortunate larva
would be snatched up, carried off, and jammed down in some neighboring
empty space, like a bolt of cloth rearranged upon a shelf. Then
another ant would approach, antennæ the larva, disapprove, and again
shift its position. It was a real survival of the lucky, as to who
should avoid being exhausted by kindness and over-solicitude. I
uttered many a chuckle at the half-ensilked unfortunates being toted
about like mummies, and occasionally giving a sturdy, impatient kick
which upset their tormentors and for a moment created a little swirl
of mild excitement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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