ANTS AT WAR
1 I remember once lying on a sun-drenched hillside in Matopo - a hillside covered with twisted acacia-shrubs and mopane bushes - watching a protracted and bloody war being waged within inches of my feet. I was extremely lucky to be, as it were, a war correspondent for this battle. It was the only one of its kind I had ever seen and I would not have missed it for the world.
2 The two armies involved were ants. The attacking force was a fierce, shinning, red one, while the defending army was as black as coal. I might quite easily have missed this if one day I had not noticed what struck me as an extremely peculiar ants' nest. It contained two species of ants, one red and one black, living together on the most amicable terms. Never having seen two species of ants living in the same nest before, I took the trouble to check upon them. I discovered that the red ones, who were the true owners of the nest, were known by the resounding title of the blood-red slave-makers and the black ones were in fact their slaves who had been captured and placed in their service while they were still eggs. After reading about the habit of the slave-makers, I kept a cautious eye on the nest in the hope of seeing them indulge in one of their slave raids. Several months passed and I began to think that either these slave-makers were too lazy to capture more slaves or else they had enough to keep themselves happy.
3 The slave-makers' fortress lay neat at the roots of a mopane tree and three metres farther down the hillside was a nest of black ants. Passing this nest one morning, I noticed several of the slave-makers wandering about within a metre or so of their nest and I stopped to watch. There were perhaps thirty of them, spread over quite a large area. They did not appear to be foraging for food, as they were not moving with their normal brisk inquisitiveness. They kept wandering round in vague circles, occasionally climbing a grass blade and standing pensively on its tip, waving their antennae.
4 Periodically, two of them would meet and stand there in what appeared to be an animated conversation, their antennae twitching together. It was not until I had watched them for some time that I realised what they were doing. Their wanderings were not as aimless as they appeared, for they were quartering the ground very thoroughly like a pack of hunting-dogs, investigating every bit of the terrain over which their army would have to travel. The black ants seemed distinctly ill at ease.
5 Occasionally, one of the black ants would meet one of the slave-makers and would turn tail and run back to the nest to join one of the many groups of his relatives who were gathered in little knots, apparently holding a council of war. This careful investigation of the ground by the scouts of the slave-makers' army continued for two days and I had begun to think that they had decided that the black ants' city was too difficult to attack. Then, I arrived one morning to find that the war had started.
6 The scouts, accompanied by small platoons, had now moved in closer to the black ants and already several skirmishes were taking place within a metre of the nest. Black ants were hurling themselves on the red ones hysterically, while the red ones were advancing slowly but inexorably. Now and then, they caught a black ant and with a swift, savage bite, pierced it through the head or the thorax with their huge jaws.
7 Half-way up the hillside, the main body of the slave-makers' army was marching down. In about an hour, they had got closer to the black ants' city, and here, with a beautiful military precision which was quite amazing to watch, they split into three columns. While one column marched directly on the nest, the other two spread out and proceeded to execute a flanking or pincer movement. It was fascinating to watch. I felt I was suspended in some miraculous way above the field of battle of some old military campaign - the battle of Shangani or some similar historic battle. I could see at a glance the disposition of the attackers and the defenders. I could see the columns of reinforcements hurrying up through the jungle of grass. I could see the two outflanking columns of slave-makers moving gradually to the nest, while the black ants, unaware of their presence, were concentrating on fighting off the central column. It was quite obvious to me that unless the black ants very soon realised that they were being encircled, they would lose all hope of survival. I was torn between a desire to help the black ants in some way and a longing to leave things as they were and see how matters developed. I did pick up one of the black ants and placed him near the encircling red-ant column, but he was set upon and killed rapidly and I felt quite guilty.
8 Eventually, however, the black ants suddenly became aware of the fact that they were being neatly surrounded. Immediately, they seemed to panic and many of them ran to and from aimlessly. Some of them, in their freight, ran straight into the red invaders and were instantly killed. Others, however, seemed to keep their heads and they rushed down into the depths of the fortress and started on the work of evacuating the eggs, which they brought up and stacked on the side of the nest, farthest away from the invaders. Other members of the community then seized the eggs and started to rush them away to safety, but they had left it too late.
9 The encircling columns of slave makers, so orderly and neatly, now suddenly burst their ranks and spread over the whole area like a scuttling red tide. Everywhere, there were knots of struggling ants. The black ants, clasping eggs in their jaws, were pursued by the slave-makers, cornered and then forced to give up the eggs. If they showed resistance, they were immediately killed. The more cowardly, however, saved their lives by dropping the eggs they were carrying as soon as a slave-maker hovered in sight. The whole area on and around the nest was littered with dead and dying ants of both species, while between the 'corpses' the black ants ran futilely here and there, and the slave-makers gathered the eggs and started on the journey back to their fortress on the hill. At that point, very reluctantly, I had to leave the scene of battle, for it was getting too dark to see properly.
10 Early next morning, I arrived at the scene again, to find that the war was over. The black ants' city was deserted, except for the dead and injured ants littered all over it. Neither the black nor the red army was anywhere to be seen. I hurried up to the red ants' nest and was just in time to see the last of the army arrive there, carrying their spoils of war - the eggs - carefully in their jaws. At the entrance to the nest, their black slaves greeted them excitedly, touching the eggs with their antennae and scuttling eagerly around their masters, obviously full of enthusiasm for the successful raid on their own relations that the slave-makers had achieved. There was something unpleasantly human about the whole thing.
11 It is perhaps unfair to describe animals as indulging in warfare, because, for the most part, they are far too sensible to engage in warfare as we know it. The exceptions are, of course, the ants and the slave-makers in particular. For most other creatures, warfare consists of either defending themselves against an enemy or attacking something for food.
12 After watching the slave-makers wage war, I had the greatest admiration for their military strategy but it did not make me like them very much.
Adapted from: Encounters with Animals by Gerald Durrell.