Thousands of worker ants fanned out across the forest floor to find food, leaves and twigs. In an orderly fashion, they then bore them back to their home and queen.
It took them months, but they laid up supplies enough to nourish and protect every member of the colony through the long winter.
But this year an enemy was watching: a swarm of ravenous locusts. Perched in the trees, they saw the ants as easy prey, in part because they knew they would do anything, even sacrifice themselves, to protect the colony.
“How foolish they are,” said the locust king. “They could leave the weak behind and run for cover. But they risk their lives to save others. They’ll make a good meal.”
The following morning, the locusts swooped in with a loud, continuous buzzing and attacked the ants, who huddled together, surrounding the injured, the old, eggs, larvae and the queen.
There were many more ants than locusts, but locusts can fly, they have killer jaws and their appetite is nearly insatiable. By day’s end, they’d decimated the colony, whose hardiest members burrowed deep underground, saving the queen.
“Suckers,” laughed the locust king, devouring the last of his feast. “Losers.”
Then the locusts, fat and happy, flew away to find new prey in another forest.
But not for long because the average lifespan of a locust is only four months. Ants, by contrast, can live for years, their queens for decades.
Soon the locusts, too weak to attack, their selfish lives ebbing away, began to fall dead to the forest floor, where detritivores consumed their carcasses.
All the while, the ants carried on, forming columns, marching, gathering supplies, fortifying their home, raising new generations of ants and protecting the colony, where values and wisdom reside and abide.
It took them months, but they laid up supplies enough to nourish and protect every member of the colony through the long winter.
But this year an enemy was watching: a swarm of ravenous locusts. Perched in the trees, they saw the ants as easy prey, in part because they knew they would do anything, even sacrifice themselves, to protect the colony.
“How foolish they are,” said the locust king. “They could leave the weak behind and run for cover. But they risk their lives to save others. They’ll make a good meal.”
The following morning, the locusts swooped in with a loud, continuous buzzing and attacked the ants, who huddled together, surrounding the injured, the old, eggs, larvae and the queen.
There were many more ants than locusts, but locusts can fly, they have killer jaws and their appetite is nearly insatiable. By day’s end, they’d decimated the colony, whose hardiest members burrowed deep underground, saving the queen.
“Suckers,” laughed the locust king, devouring the last of his feast. “Losers.”
Then the locusts, fat and happy, flew away to find new prey in another forest.
But not for long because the average lifespan of a locust is only four months. Ants, by contrast, can live for years, their queens for decades.
Soon the locusts, too weak to attack, their selfish lives ebbing away, began to fall dead to the forest floor, where detritivores consumed their carcasses.
All the while, the ants carried on, forming columns, marching, gathering supplies, fortifying their home, raising new generations of ants and protecting the colony, where values and wisdom reside and abide.
