The Great Ant Attack

by Stan

  “What’s possibility three?”

  “Why do they smell like grape juice?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Fear was spreading throughout the room.

  “Well,” said Professor Actual Factual, “the first thing I’m going to do is call Dr. Minerva Smythe-Jones at the university. Dr. Smythe-Jones is the world’s leading authority on Hymenoptera.”

  “Hymen-who-tera?” asked Sister.

  “That’s the scientific name for the animal order that ants are part of. Minerva, who is an old friend of mine—we went to university together—is just about the only one in the country who might know how to stop them. If, indeed, they need to be stopped. After all, we do not yet know the size of the problem. If there’s just one colony out there, the problem should be manageable. If, on the other hand, this hybrid turns out to have strong reproductive powers…Well, I’d better place my call to Dr. Smythe-Jones.” As the professor went to place the call, the questions started again.

  “What are hybrids?”

  “Can anything stop them?”

  Ferdy raised his hand to stop the flow of questions. “My friends, instead of answering your questions one by one, I think it would be better to give you a short course in ant science. Please follow me into the laboratory.”

  Chapter Five

  A Short Course in Ant Science

  The laboratory was a long room with shelves on either side. On the shelves were large glassed-in ant colonies.

  “Now, these,” said Ferdy, pointing to one of the colonies, “are ordinary Bear Country ants. Like all ants, they live in colonies, which are groups that range in size from thousands to millions. And as with most ants, this type lives underground. As you can see, they have dug out a network of chambers connected by tunnels. Our glass cases enable us to make cross-sections of our ant colonies, so that we can see right into some of the chambers and tunnels and observe the ants.”

  “What are they doing in this chamber?” asked Fred, pointing to the largest one.

  “That’s the queen’s chamber,” said Ferdy. “It’s the most important chamber in the entire colony. That’s because it’s where this one very large ant, the queen, lays the eggs from which new members of the colony will hatch. You can see that some of her eggs have already hatched and have turned into caterpillar-like forms called larvae. Only the queen produces eggs. The smaller ants around her are females called workers. They bring her food.”

  “Hey,” said Brother, “one of the workers is stealing a larva!”

  Ferdy chuckled. “Not stealing, Brother,” he said. “She is taking it to the brooding chamber, where workers care for the larvae. Eventually, the larvae spin protective cocoons around themselves, and inside these cocoons they turn into pupae—or a ‘pupa’ for just one. The pupae will become full-grown ants. Now watch. There she goes, carrying the egg through a tunnel…to the brooding chamber.”

  “What does the queen do when she’s finished laying eggs?” asked Brother.

  “Lays more eggs,” said Ferdy. “That’s all she does: lays eggs until she dies. Most of her babies will become workers in the colony. Workers can’t fly. But a few of the female babies are born with wings. These are future queens, who will fly away and establish new colonies elsewhere.”

  While Ferdy’s short course in ant science was very interesting, it was also a little scary. Papa swallowed hard when he realized that queens flying away and starting new colonies was exactly what Professor Actual Factual was worried about.

  Babs pointed at a winged ant she’d spotted. “Is that one of the future queens?”

  “No,” said Ferdy. “That’s a male.”

  “Where’s the king’s chamber?” asked Sister.

  “There is no king’s chamber,” said Ferdy, “because there is no king. All the males are winged. They fly off after future queens and mate with them.”

  “What else do they do?” asked Brother.

  “Nothing at all,” said Ferdy.

  “Sounds like a pretty easy life,” said Brother.

  “But a short one,” Ferdy pointed out. “The males live only a fraction of the time the females do.”

  Ferdy led the cubs to the neighboring case. “Now, this colony,” he said, “consists of an entirely different species of ant, one that is definitely not from Bear Country.”

  “Where is it from?” asked Brother.

  “The jungles of Bearneo,” said Ferdy. “Notice that they are twice the size of the Bear Country ants. And see how they move through the tunnels?”

  “They’re faster than the Bear Country ants,” observed Fred.

  “Yes,” said Ferdy. “In the wild, they chase down and eat beetles and other large insects—even toads, lizards, and salamanders. From time to time, an entire colony will move a great distance and establish a new home, capturing food along the way. During a move, the large queen is actually carried by worker ants. It’s quite a sight. A colony on the move looks like a great army. And that’s why they are called army ants.”

  “Do the Bear Country ants eat animals, too?” asked Brother.

  “Only occasionally,” said Ferdy. “Mostly they eat plants—seeds, grain, tender shoots, and leaves. That’s the problem with them. They wreak havoc on crops. Just ask Farmer Ben. Our goal in mating our local ants with these jungle ants was to develop a hybrid that would eat wheat worms, corn borers, and barley moths instead of wheat, corn, and barley.”

  “You seem to have overshot your goal,” said Babs.

  “Disastrously so,” said Ferdy.

  “You said those ants that attacked our picnic were hybrids. What’s a hybrid?” asked Brother.

  “Most species,” explained Ferdy, “do not mate with different species. And even if they do, they rarely produce young. But occasionally, it does happen. That’s a hybrid. That’s what happened with our Bear Country ants and our army ants. Come and look at this third colony.”

  The cubs’ eyes widened as they approached the third case. “Hey!” said Brother. “Those are the ants that attacked us!”

  “That’s the problem,” said Ferdy. “The ant that escaped must have been a queen, because she produced a colony in just a few days. I think that’s the possibility three the professor’s worried about. It sounds far-fetched, but I think our escaped queen must have been adopted by some local ants that lost their queen. It’s just about the only possibility I can think of that explains the colony that you ran into.”

  “Scary,” said Brother.

  “Very scary,” agreed Ferdy.

  “What do you call this hybrid?” asked Fred.

  “It’s brand-new, so we had to name it ourselves,” said Ferdy. “We’re calling it Antus maximus—in English, ‘super-ant.’ I selected this name because, in our hybrid species, the traits and habits of the two parent species did not just blend, as they usually do, but were also greatly magnified.”

  Ferdy’s short course in the science of ants sort of trailed off. He looked worried. “I wish we knew what was happening out there,” he said. “Is that one colony going to be the end of it, or will there be more?”

  “What about the observation tower?” asked Brother. “Why don’t we go up there and look?”

  “Brilliant idea, Brother!” cried Ferdy. “Follow me!”

  “You cubs go ahead,” said Papa. “The professor is having a little difficulty getting through to the ant expert. I think he needs a little extra support right now. Mama and I will stay with him.”

  Chapter Six

  To the Tower!

  The cubs raced up the circular stair that led to the top of the observation tower. The tower was one of the main parts of the Bearsonian Institution. Astronomy was one of the professor’s special interests, so the tower had a large Star Gazer telescope for exploring the galaxy. But it also had a pair of powerful field glasses. Ferdy immediately grabbed them and began scanning the area.

  “Wow!” said Sister. “You can see for miles around up here!”

  “There
’s the colony that attacked your picnic,” said Ferdy. “And, oh, my goodness! I see another colony! And another! Good grief! There are now three colonies. That’s bad enough. But there’s something even scarier going on out there. Something that goes against everything I know about ant science.”

  “What’s that, Ferdy?” asked Brother.

  “Well,” said Ferdy, still peering through the glasses, “instead of fighting—ant colonies are always at war with each other—they seem to be cooperating, moving along beside each other. Here, take a look.” Ferdy handed the field glasses to Brother.

  “Yeah,” said Brother. “I see what you mean.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said Babs.

  She took something out of her pocket and began punching buttons.

  “What are you doing?” asked Sister.

  “Calling my father on my cell phone. This ant thing looks like a real emergency. It’s a matter for the police…. Hello, hello. This is Babs Bruno. I have to talk to the chief…. Well, tell him to call my cell phone number. It’s an emergency.”

  “Let me see!” demanded Sister. Brother gave her a turn at the field glasses. “Hey, I see what you mean. It looks like they’re making friends.”

  Babs’s cell phone rang.

  “Yes, Dad, it’s me! I’m over in the Bearsonian tower, and something awful is happening. There’s this weird army of ants! There’re zillions of ’em!… You know about it? Okay! Okay! See you!…

  “My dad knows all about it. He’s calling from the police helicopter. He helped the professor get through to that Dr. Smythe-Jones. He’s picked her up and they’re headed this way.”

  “Here they come!” cried Sister as the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter got louder and louder.

  “Look!” cried Fred. “They’re going to land right in front of the museum!”

  “Back down to the lab!” shouted Ferdy. They tore down the circular stairs and rushed to the lab.

  Chapter Seven

  Never Fear! Dr. Smythe-Jones Is Here!

  The chief and Dr. Smythe-Jones had already arrived by the time the cubs got back to the laboratory. Dr. Smythe-Jones was a large, forceful person.

  “My dear old friend,” she cried, enfolding the professor in a big, smothering hug. “So grand to see you again after all these years!”

  “Good to see you again, Minerva,” choked the professor. Dr. Smythe-Jones introduced herself all around.

  “Old friend,” she said to the professor, “the chief here tells me you’ve got yourself a little hymenoptery problem. Why don’t you tell me about it?” She took notes as Professor Actual Factual told of the events that had led up to the present situation: the development of Antus maximus, the escape of a queen, the growth of a colony, and the attack on the picnickers. He also pointed out that the super-ants could eat all organic materials.

  “Uncle, I’m afraid there are further developments,” said Ferdy.

  Dr. Smythe-Jones took notes furiously as Ferdy told of their observations from the tower. “Two additional colonies, ya say? That makes three. But please tell me again about this strange behavior you observed.”

  “Well, Uncle and I are not hymenopterists like you, Doctor. But I’ve always understood that ant colonies don’t get along. That they are usually at war with each other.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Just what did you see that makes you think otherwise?”

  “Well, these three colonies weren’t going at each other as if they were about to fight. They were just moving along, sidling up to each other. It was almost as if they were communicating.”

  “Hmm,” said Dr. Smythe-Jones. “Communicating, ya say. Hmm.” She stood up. “All right, Actual. Let me have a look at this super-ant of yours.” She followed the professor over to one of the glassed-in super-ant colonies and looked in. “Well, now,” said the ant expert as she looked at the hybrid ants that the professor and Ferdy had developed. “I’ve seen just about every type of ant known to science. But I’ve never seen an ant that looked like this big fellow—almost twice as big as these jungle ants. I can see why you’re calling it Antus maximus. Look at those jaws. Look at that thorax. Somebody give me a magnifying glass.” Ferdy handed her one. She selected one of the super-ants and stared at it long and hard through the magnifying glass. Then she put down the glass and turned to Actual Factual.

  “My compliments, Professor,” she said. “You and this bright little nephew of yours have made a great contribution to the noble science of hymenoptery. Antus maximus is the finest-looking ant I have ever seen.”

  “Well,” said the professor, “Ferdy and I thank you for those kind words. But, Minerva, the reason we have brought you here is—” The sound of a siren interrupted him.

  “That’ll be Officer Marguerite,” said the chief. “I radioed her in the police car from the chopper.” There were hurried hellos all around as Officer Marguerite came into the laboratory.

  “You see any ants on your way over?” asked the chief.

  “Just a couple of flying ones,” said Marguerite.

  “Oh, dear!” said the professor. “They could be queens flying off to start new colonies.”

  “Or,” said Dr. Smythe-Jones, “they could be males just scouting around.”

  “We don’t mean to be a nuisance, Chief,” said Mama. “But what you said about their eating habits, Professor, worries me. Those super-ants could eat us right out of tree house and home. Could Marguerite take us back home? Just as a precaution? We’d like to pick up our photo albums and a few other family bearlooms just in case.”

  “Do it, Marguerite,” said the chief. “But the cubs had better stay here at the Bearsonian. It’s solid stone.”

  “Can’t you stay here, Mama?” asked Sister.

  “Don’t worry, my dear,” said Mama. “Papa and I will be safe in the police car with Officer Marguerite.”

  But Sister worried as she listened to the eerie sound of the police siren trail off in the distance as Marguerite raced for the endangered tree house.

  Dr. Smythe-Jones turned to Ferdy. “Young fellow, to complete my report, I need to know more about the strange, friendly behavior of super-ant colonies. But I’d like to see it for myself.”

  “Follow me, Doctor!” cried Ferdy. Professor Actual Factual, Dr. Smythe-Jones, Chief Bruno, and the cubs fell in behind Ferdy as he led the way to the top of the tower. Dr. Smythe-Jones seized the field glasses.

  “Amazing!” she said as she scanned the horizon. It was as though she was watching the greatest show on earth. Finally, she put the glasses down and fell heavily into a chair. “Remarkable,” she said. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. You’d better have a look, Professor.”

  “Good grief!” said the professor. “Ferdy was right. Not only are they communicating, the three colonies are forming an army the likes of which the world has never seen!”

  “The glasses, please,” said Chief Bruno. “Gad! What a sight! They look like a dark shadow moving over the earth, leaving everything brown and dead in its path. And look! They’re heading for Farmer Ben’s farm! Quick, Babs! Give me your cell phone!”

  “Who are you calling?” asked Babs as her father pushed furiously at the buttons.

  “The mayor,” said the chief. “He’s got to declare an emergency!”

  Chapter Eight

  Emergency Powers

  Mayor Horace J. Honeypot was sitting behind his important-looking desk in his important-looking office thinking how wonderful it was to have such an important job. He had been reelected more times than anybody could count. He wasn’t a bad mayor, but neither was he an especially good one. The biggest complaint against him was that he kept putting things off. He just didn’t seem to be able to make decisions. But somehow he kept getting reelected. There was a little ditty about why that was so. It went like this:

  Why does the mayor always win?

  Because half the population’s his kin!

  The light that
signaled an incoming call was flashing on Mayor Honeypot’s phone. But the mayor wasn’t in the mood for phone calls. The trouble with phone calls was that the callers usually needed some sort of a decision. Besides, his secretary in the outer office would answer it. That’s what secretaries were for.

  But Mayor Honeypot’s peace and quiet were shattered when his secretary burst in and shouted, “Pick up line two, Mr. Mayor! It’s Chief Bruno! He says it’s an emergency!”

  “Oh, dear,” said the mayor. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for emergencies. Reluctantly, he picked up line two. As soon as the phone was off the hook, the chief’s voice split the air.

  The mayor had another problem with emergencies. Whenever he got excited, he tended to get the fronts and backs of his words mixed up. “Would you please shop stouting, Chief—er, would you please stop shouting? And would you sleak more spowly—er, speak more slowly?… But, Chief, I can’t declare an emergency because of a few ants!”

  But, of course, it was more than a few ants. It was a whole army of ants. And armies have scouts. And one of them scouted its way into the seat of the mayor’s pants and took a big bite out of him!

  The mayor’s scream of pain echoed through City Hall. He leaped so high that you might have thought gravity had been overcome. In fact, those super-ants were helping folks overcome gravity all over town.

  “Yipe!” shouted Judge Gavel across the street in the courthouse.

  “Yipe!” screamed Miss Goodbear, the Beartown librarian, just down the way.

  “Yowl!” yelled Mr. Vault, president of the Beartown Bank and Trust, one block over.

  As soon as the mayor got over his painful ant bite, he declared an emergency. He had his secretary call the radio and television stations and the newspapers and tell them about it.