I hate ants. Not because of the damage they do, which isn’t usually very much or even their nuisance-value, which is at a very high level. It’s that they are so invasive. They don’t just stroll into your home, a couple here or there. They set up front lines. They march into your home by the millions and unless you are able to stop them in their tracks, they take over. From the last time the ants invaded, I still have nervous twitches if I feel anything brush my skin.
As soon as I realized the hummingbird feeders were feeding the ants better than hummingbirds, I took them down. The damage was already done. Shortly thereafter, Owen found a few of them downstairs and Garry caught one on the kitchen counter and another couple in the bathroom. I found a couple in the dining room.
Where you find one ant in your house, you can bet there are millions more where that one came from. I have learned the hard way to NOT wait until the millions of ants invade, but call The Guy immediately. Been here, done this.
Meanwhile, we are ever vigilantly trying to keep the mice OUT of the house. Those have been our only two invaders, which, for people living in a woods, isn’t too bad. There are a lot of other potential invaders who can be adorable outside, but aren’t nearly as cute when they’ve moved into your attic or basement. At least for now, we don’t have mice and are exterminating the ants. I have no mercy on these two invaders. We aren’t going to run out of ants or mice as long as the earth turns.
How ironic that the things we will never get rid of are exactly the creepy crawlies we least want. There’s a moral in here somewhere. I’m just not sure exactly what.