We have black ants. The big ones. Well, actually we have the teeny ones too. The teeny ones are all over the maple syrup container, and it’s a dilemma as to what to do with them. The big ones, you can just kind of divert their travel plans. It’s easy to redirect their trajectory by putting up a barrier, like the salt shaker or a shoe. They’re like water. Nothing stops them. They can get by or over anything.

But the teeny ones. I don’t know.They’re so small you feel their vulnerability, and you almost want to protect them. Plus you can’t really confuse them. They’re a determined lot. 

In some weird way you almost want to reward them for just surviving. Actually killing them? I can’t do it. But I don’t want them on my pancakes either. 

I could wash them off the jug. But they’d think it was a tidal wave as they tumbled and swirled out of control down the drain. And then what? Where do they go? Are they still alive in some intricate plumbing underground tunnel-like affair? Will they pop up in the toilet bowl? Gasping for air?

As for the big ones, in 1977 I read in the Whole Earth Catalog that cucumber peelings would discourage them. So that was my strategy then. Until my kids were embarrassed that when their little friends came over, they asked why we had garbage all over the place. I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t like the look either. And I’m not sure it even worked.

I once read something interesting that E.O. Wilson, the Harvard etymologist, wrote. He said, “Don’t kill ants, study them.” 

That’s the kind of line that’s right up my husband’s alley.

Did you ever see that Twilight Zone where the people are minuscule and the insects are huge? The enormous bugs can fling the mini people out the window. They can step on them. They can smush them between their super-size thumbs and forefingers.They can do everything to the helpless things we do to the big black ants. 

I think of that expression: Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. Nobody I know before swatting a mosquito is thinking of what that mosquito’s kids are going to experience when Daddy doesn’t come home tonight. The first whine of a mosquito, and everyone I know grabs a newspaper, rolls it up, and swats until the thing is dead.

OK, I know I’ve gone down the proverbial rabbit hole, but what to do with these invaders is still an issue.

In Buddhism, the first precept of refraining from taking life extends to all sentient beings, including insects. To avoid killing bugs or worms while digging, Buddhists use spoons to gently scoop, and then they relocate the creatures. 

My husband is a lifeguard for all spiders. He would never kill a spider. He gets a glass and puts it over it and then slips a card under the guy and carries him to safety. Out. And the ones left in the house he talks to. He says, You saw what happened to your Uncle Harry. He’s out in the freezing cold. You know you could be next. Keep eating the guys we don’t like (silverfish, moths, fruit flies). And no biting. And you can stay.

I like to think we have a harmonious relationship with all the life forms in my house. 

My husband calls our cabin an elegant tent. When I look at it that way, I’m grateful I have indoor plumbing. I’m also grateful that he models respect for our fellow creatures. He always says, They just want to live, no different from what we want.

We had some friends over recently, and it was a particularly big black ant night. It was almost as if the ants wanted to be in our social scene. Because there were more than usual, and they were on the table where the food was.

Someone said, You can get those ant cups, you know. They work. 

Neither of us said anything. We looked at each other, and I know we were both thinking: E.O Wilson.

Maybe I’ll try the cukes again.