Under Siege

I have this post that's been swirling around in my head for several days now, but every time I sit down to work on it, I keep going in too many directions. I can't reel it in and focus. For now, then, I just have this to say. My yard is under attack. By ants. Thousands--nay, possibly millions--of them are currently rallying outside my home, presumably organizing their imminent coup. And I am not happy about it.

Every spring since I moved here, the ants have built not just a typical mound, but a veritable multiplex condominium compound on the hill in front of my property. I am not exaggerating when I say the series of mounds that make up this compound spans a two-foot-square area. Every year, I douse it with insect spray, and the tiny bastards stagger around and die, leaving behind a massive patch of dirt so obtrusive that the grass doesn't even grow through it anymore. But my efforts don't deter them. Last year, they built a compound on each side of the hill. How they came back in strong enough numbers as to double their population I have no idea, but I sprayed both patches with well beyond the recommended dosage in an attempt to nip the problem in the proverbial bud. Last month, when both ant metropolises (metropoli?) returned again, I ditched the sprayer and poured the liquid directly onto the mounds.

After that, I thought I'd seen the last of them for this season. Then I stepped out my front door tonight and saw what looked like a flat little ant hill bordering my front walk. I kicked it, thinking I'd scatter the dirt and thwart the squatters' building efforts, and I realized that there was no dirt at all. The entire brown pile I saw was nothing but hundreds of writhing ants. A few feet away, a similar swarm was working its way out of a sidewalk crack in front of my door. Beyond that, another army was gathering near the steps.

I used an entire gallon of insect killer trying to do away with this latest development before they make their way to my house, but somehow I think I got not even a small fraction of them. I'm convinced, suddenly, that the surface dwellers are only the overflow (or, perhaps, the watchmen) of a massive ant underworld. I think if I were to dig just a few feet into the soil of my yard, I'd reach a point where the dirt makes way for a solid mass of squirming ants.

As you can imagine, this is somewhat unsettling to me. I've been jumpy and twitchy all night--constantly scratching and brushing away phantom ants every time I feel the slightest itch or tickle. Clearly this is no way to live, so I must defeat the underworld somehow. Dynamite is out, for presumably obvious reasons. I'm open to any other suggestions, however.


Incidentally, I do realize that these are just ants and some perspective is perhaps in order. Miss Peach, I'm not trading your mice for my ants, so don't even ask. Not even if you do throw in Darren as an on-call exterminator.