Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Waging war with an army of ants

As I lack any original thoughts of my own, recent events have encouraged me to pirate my contemporary’s unique blend of helpful advice with the random bird facts he finds printed from the lids of Snapple bottles. Adored by the bird-loving public-at-large, Hanz Kunze in an invaluable resource for avian enthusiasts. I confess that I’m not the biggest fan of our feathered friends. Following the foolish purchase of cockatiels for our daughters six years ago, I was devastated to discover their ridiculous lifespan of twenty-five years…thank you, Snapple cap…I immediately began devising a series of murderous schemes which the birds have cleverly evaded, time and time again. Each time I've been thwarted, I shake my fist in frustration, screaming, “I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those pesky cockatiels.”

Over the last few weeks, the Mosimans have been the victim of an ant invasion. Always the conspiracy theorist, my husband is convinced that for every ant seen, a hundred lurk in the shadows. I tend to be a rainbow-after-the-rain type of gal, believing that the ant is merely on his way to a picnic somewhere. As I watched my husband shake the lawn staff that holds our hummingbird feeder so that a hail of red ants sprinkled the ground, I vowed to end this plague. “Why is there a container of Vick’s vapor-rub on the windowsill?” Brad asked a day later. “I decided wrapping fly tape around the bottom of the pole was inhumane and unsightly,” I explained, “I read that if you smear the pole with vapor-rub, ants will be repelled.” My husband stared at me, shrugged and then walked away.

Several days later, outfitted with tiny clothespins on their noses, the ant army made its perilous way back up that slippery slope. “We need to make a moat,” I declared to my husband after another round of research. “What?” he responded with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “We’re going to drill out the bottom of a paint cap…well, you are…run a string through so we can attach it over our hummingbird feeder, seal it with caulk and then fill it with water.” Brad nodded distractedly and went back to what he had been doing while I immersed myself again in investigative research. “Oh my goodness,” I exclaimed a moment later, successfully capturing my husband’s attention again. “We have to fill it with oil because ants can walk on water!” “What?” my husband asked incredulously, “Why this sudden fascination with ridding our hummingbird feeder from ants?” I shared with him how I had observed his frustration with ants and wanted to support him, waiting for the accolades and adoration that was certain to follow.  He paused as he realized who was turning out to be the real pest in his life. “I don’t want ants in the house,” he said slowly, “I could care less about the hummingbird feeder.” My eyes widened as realization set in. “That’s going to take a LOT of oil,” I told him, “and we’ll have to rent a trencher.”  


Obviously, I have a long way to go before I can come close to achieving the bird-brain status of someone like Hans Kunze. I have been drinking a LOT of Snapple and I’ve make it a point to clip out and save Hans Kunze’s articles before lining my cockatiel cage.  As a result, I am proud to report that I answered two out of the five questions in the birding category during round one of Teen Jeopardy. You just watch out, Hans Kunze, Amy Mosiman is well on her way to knocking you off your perch. 

published in Warsaw's Country Courier: August 1, 2013

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