The ant the grasshopper

And now for something entirely different, in which I attempt to add some natural history facts to a parable involving insects …

“Smerfle smerfle smerf,” said the ant. “Pardon me?” asked the grasshopper. The ant, taking its jaws off the grasshopper’s leg replied, “I said, how do you feel about dancing and singing all summer long, especially knowing that you are going to be hungry during the long, cold winter?”

“You mean like in Aesop’s fable?” asked the grasshopper in return. “That’s mere human propaganda. First of all, I know I’m going to die once winter comes, regardless of whether I stored up food or not. Secondly, I was busy in my own way, not just singing and dancing all summer long. How about you, ant? Do you feel any regret about working all summer long, never getting to have any fun?”

The ant, still holding on tight to the grasshopper’s leg, replied “Well you know, what’s good for all my sisters and my queen is good for me. I am genetically selected to collect food and bring it back to the colony. It’s what I do. You could help me out in that endeavor, if you wanted to walk five metres to the south …”

“Look ant,” said the grasshopper, “I don’t have anything against you, but I’m not particularly interested in getting eaten alive at the moment. I still have several batches of eggs to lay over the next few weeks, or until the frost or a bird shuffles me off this mortal coil.”

“Hmm, are you suggesting that Aesop was lying about you being lazy and only having a good time?” asked the ant.

“Yup,” replied the grasshopper. “Pure slander. It takes a lot of effort and skill to grow from an itty-bitty egg to an adult grasshopper without being eaten along the way. And then I have to pump out a bunch of eggs in the hope that at least some of my babies make it to adulthood next year.”

“And, if you look closely at me, I’m not only beautiful, I’m a marvel of insect engineering. My back legs aren’t just long and fancy, they’re mini catapults. See how my muscles act like coiled springs? When I fire these babies, I can leap more than 20 times my body length. And when I moult into an adult, I develop the ability to fly. I’m amazing.”

“Good point, you are a marvel. And tasty too.” said the ant. “Aesop got us ants wrong too. First of all, in most modern versions of his tale, its sounds like we live in some sort of insect type of nuclear human family. You know, a mom, a dad, some baby ants. If he had really paid attention, he would have realized we’re basically a band of sisters plus our egg-laying queen, with a few males thrown in for good measure.”

“So, I don’t want to be rude, but I have a personal question” replied the grasshopper. “What’s it all for, from a worker ant’s perspective? I mean, I get to lay a bunch of eggs, pass along my genes, etc., etc., etc. You, on the other hand, just seem to work yourself to death.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” beamed the ant. “I hope to work until the day I drop dead. But to answer your question, we do have some pretty important events in the life of our colony. In particular, we like to celebrate what I call ‘the big, bold, synchronous male and virgin queen send off, mating flight, new colony establishment, and pizza party.’”

“Whoa, that’s a mouthful … and, speaking of which, I would appreciate it if you didn’t chew on my femur.”

“Sorry about that. Ants will be ants, my clone sisters always say,” replied the ant. “The title is a perfect description of what happens in late summer. Miraculously, all the colonies of the same ant species will ‘reproduce’ on exactly the same day, and often the same hour.”

“If you pay close attention, you may notice a huge number of winged ants flying up from all the nearby ant hills,” continued the ant. “These are the winged males and virgin queens. The males gather in a swarm of flying ants, and the new queens fly into these clouds, searching for a mate.”

“Once mating occurs, the newly mated queen will disperse to a new area, chew off her wings, and dig a hole in the soil. The next spring, she will start laying eggs, creating a new colony. Assuming she survives. And I was just kidding about the pizza party”

“Whoa, that sounds pretty risky. I can’t imagine that the success rate is great,” said the grasshopper.

“Yeah, it’s why each colony produces hundreds of queens, and also why we have them all fly out at the same time. It reduces the chances that some bird will eat them all.”

“I guess it’s just as risky as laying my eggs and hoping that they hatch.” Replied the grasshopper. “Life is pretty risky as an insect. It’s a miracle that any of us survive.”

“Speaking of which, do you mind if I finish the job of eating you?” asked the ant.

“Perhaps at a later date,” replied the grasshopper. “I’ve got too many things to do, eggs to lay, birds to avoid … you know how it is.” And with that, the grasshopper shook off the ant and fluttered away, leaving the ant to search for something else to take home to her colony.

» Ken Kingdon lives in the heart of the Riding Mountain Biosphere Reserve. Send him a text at 204.848.5020 if you have stories to share.