Ants

This morning I woke up to fog and frost, the rumbling ruckus of the recycling trucks rolling down our neighbors' cul de sac, and ants.

All over the kitchen counter.  Amassed in ranks and scattered blindly about, intentional and random, skittering and, well, marching. 

"So today it begins," I thought, as I reached under the sink for the eco-friendly lavender-scented 'household cleaner'.  "It" being the nine-months' invasion of the stinky little black buggers who pop up here, then there, and who - like dandelions and blackberry bushes - spend 100% of their daily intention on taking over my resources to grow their population while I can only afford a scant five minutes here or there to amass my munitions and mount the occasional counter-attack.

But this morning, attack I did.  All over that counter.  A hundred ants met their demise, at least.  And it felt good to do them in.  I relished it.  Squirt, wipe; squirt, wipe; squirt, wipe, toss.  The ones in the coffee maker went first.  Then the ones on the counter by the cutting boards, then the trail to the stove - oh, so that's where they're coming from this time, eh? - then the (oh, ug!) picnic gathering 'round the one crumb under the plate, and finally the litter sucking at the trough of a tiny half-mooned, half-sponged ring of milk from yesterday afternoon's latte.  It felt great, actually, to wash the last few dishes in the sink and then sop the counters with soapy water until they gleamed again, pristinely ant-free.

Of course, by the time the morning coffee had finished perking and one last ant had scurried up and out of the steaming carafe, I'd lost the will to kill.  I simply watched as that one little survivor scurried away under the counter's lip rather than hunt her down and do her in. 

Admittedly, we've been sick, so although we did rinse all the dishes and wipe the counter last night, our half-skillful efforts contributed to the gathering of the little black annoyances and to this moment's (ever so slight) twinge of regret.

So is there a way to stem the six-legged tide without regressing to such carnage?  Apparently.  Perhaps. 




What's to do to discourage these six-leggeds, in a more compassionate mode?  I trolled the interwebs for a smattering of solutions that smack of ahimsa:

1. Block off their entryways with wax or soap.  Hmmm... Interesting idea.  And if I could find those entryways, I'd try that.

2. Put chalk at their entryways or draw chalk lines around them.  OK, I don't have any chalk, but if it works I'll get some.  OR put cinnamon sticks at their entryways or shake powdered cinnamon around their trails.  I do have some cinnamon sticks...

3. Sprinkle cayenne or baby powder on their trails: It will stop the ants from following them.  Black pepper or peppercorns or peppermint leaves are also recommended for this treatment.

Ahimsa Action Plan: I'm going to try the cinnamon and the cayenne and the black pepper on the ants' trails right now.  Fingers crossed that it's less lethal than my earlier efforts and preferably just surprises them into submission.

MFB, with an update next week...
L