Nobody expected Trevor to ignore the small ant hill on the sidewalk leading to the street. He knew from experience that small ant hills grew into large ant hills, and large ant hills were a menace.
In his pre-teen days, he’d turn the large ant hill into a puff of smoke using the sun and a magnifying glass.
Those days were gone by only a few years.
There was no reason to torch an ant hill just for the fun of it. But Trevor also knew that if he didn’t gently persuade the ants away from the house, said ant hill residents would take up lodging in a climate-controlled environment such as where he lived.
And they would live rent free as squatters and have full command of any room they wanted.
That wasn’t going to happen on Trevor’s watch.
He squatted down and observed them moving around. They all seemed to know exactly where to go and what to do as if they had received orders from a higher up within the ant hill.
He ran inside and got his magnifying glass, a long string, and a jar of honey. Dipping the ten-foot string into the honey, Trevor stretched it the length of the sidewalk. He was hoping they’d all come out and have a feast on the honey and build another home somewhere else besides in front of his.
If the ants didn’t take the bait after a few hours, he’d have to remove them using more advanced techniques. He’d have to get more creative than he already was, but he couldn’t let them get closer to his house.
Trevor went back into the house to play a video game and to give the honey time to work its magic.
When he returned outside, the ant hill was gone and so was the string with the honey. The dirt near the sidewalk was muddy.
Trevor returned inside and approached his mother.
“Mom, did you pour water on the ants?”
“Yeah, why? They’re such a nuisance.”
“I was doing an experiment with that string,” said Trevor.
“Oh, that’s what that was about. Experiment failed. They avoided the string altogether and went in the direction of the house. They’re not getting into my house,” she said.
Oops 💦