The ants arrived in my kitchen the other day, a thin line trailing by the compost to the water filter. I ignored them for a day or two, hoping that I could avoid dealing with it, so, of course, the line turned into a highway, and small groups of scouts headed out across the walls, over the breadboard, onto the stove. Untenable situation.

I like ants. I do not like wiping up hundreds of them. I recalled something I read recently about Bali, where food offerings are made to the spirits every morning at different spots around the family compound, and the ants eat the offerings and don’t enter the structures.

I traced the trail of ants out the window and placed a bowl of water on the ground below. I made a paste of flour, sugar, and water, drew a line of paste down the wall from the window to the water, and pooled the rest on the ground. I went back inside, wiped up the outliers, and waited to see what would happen to the main stem.

The next morning – no more ants! Every morning I prepare them a snack and take it out to them. Catastrophe averted – for me and for them. There have been a few wanderers, some of whom I wipe up, some of whom I scoop onto a piece of paper and shake out the window to join the rest, for one or two ants wandering around and around on the table is a sad thing. An ant without its group is lost, has no life, is no ant at all.