Legion’s account of the ants in Barbadoes, affords another most convincing proof of this: as he has told his tale in a very lively and interesting manner, it shall be given nearly in his own words.
“The next of these moving little animals are ants, or pismires: these are but of a small size, but great in industry; and that which gives them means to attain to this end is, they have all one soul. If I should say they are here or there, I should do them wrong, for they are every where:—under ground, where any hollow or loose earth is; amongst the roots of trees; upon the bodies, branches, leaves, and fruit of all trees; in all places without the houses and within; upon the sides, walls, windows, and roofs, without; and on the floors, side-walls, ceilings, and windows, within; tables, cupboards, beds, stools, all are covered with them, so that they are a kind of ubiquitaries. We sometimes kill a cockroach, and throw him on the ground; and mark what they will do with him: his body is bigger than a hundred of them, and yet they will find the means to take hold of him, and lift him up; and having him above ground, away they carry him, and some go by as ready assistants, if any be weary; and some are the officers that lead and shew the way to the hole into which he must pass; and if the vancouriers perceive that the body of the cockroach lies across, and will not pass through the hole or arch through which they mean to carry him, order is given, and the body turned endwise, and this is done a foot before they come to the hole, and that without any stop or stay; and it is observable, that they never pull contrary ways. A table being cleared with great care, (by way of experiment,) of all the ants that are upon it, and sugar being put upon it, some, after a circuitous route, will be observed to arrive at it; and again departing, without tasting the treasure, will hasten away to inform their friends of the discovery, who, upon this, will come by myriads: you may then, while they are thickest upon the table, clap a large book, or any thing fit for that purpose, upon them, so hard as to kill all that are under it; and when you have done so, take away the book, and leave them to themselves but a quarter of an hour, and when you come again, you shall find all these bodies carried away.—Other trials we make of their ingenuity, as thus: Take a pewter dish, and fill it half full of water, into which put a little gallipot filled with sugar, and the ants will presently find it, and come upon the table, but when they perceive it environed with water, they try about the brims of the dish where the gallipot is nearest; and there the most venturous amongst them commits himself to the water, though he be conscious how bad a swimmer he is, and is drowned in the adventure; the next is not warned by his example, but ventures too, and is alike drowned; and many more, so that there is a small foundation of their bodies to venture; and then they come faster than ever, and so make a bridge of their own bodies.”—Hist. of Barbadoes, p. 63.
The fact being certain, that ants impart their ideas to each other, we are next led to inquire by what means this is accomplished. It does not appear that, like the bees, they emit any significant sounds; their language, therefore, must consist of signs or gestures, some of which I shall now detail. In communicating their fear, or expressing their anger, they run from one to another in a semicircle, and strike with their head or jaws the trunk or abdomen of the ant to which they mean to give information on any subject of alarm. But those remarkable organs, their antennæ, are the principal instruments of their speech, if I may so call it, supplying the place both of voice and words. When the military ants before alluded to go upon their expeditions, and are out of the formicary, previously to setting off, they touch each other on the trunk with their antennæ and forehead; this is the signal for marching, for, as soon as any one has received it, he is immediately in motion. When they have any discovery to communicate, they strike with them those that they meet in a particularly impressive manner. If a hungry ant wants to be fed, it touches with its two antennæ, moving them very rapidly, those of the individual from which it expects its meal:—and not only ants understand this language, but even aphides and cocci, which are the milch kine of our little pismires, do the same, and will yield them their saccharine fluid at the touch of these imperative organs. The helpless larvæ also of the ants are informed, by the same means, when they may open their mouths to receive their food.
Next to their language, and scarcely different from it, are the modes by which they express their affections and aversions. Whether ants, with man and some of the larger animals, experience any thing like attachment to individuals, is not easily ascertained; but that they feel the full force of the sentiment which we term patriotism, or the love of the community to which they belong, is evident from the whole series of their proceedings, which all tend to promote the general good. Distress or difficulty falling upon any member of their society, generally excites their sympathy, and they do their utmost to relieve it. M. Latreille once cut off the antennæ of an ant; and its companions, evidently pitying its sufferings, anointed the wounded part with a drop of transparent fluid from their mouth: and whoever attends to what is going forward in the neighbourhood of one of their nests, will be pleased to observe the readiness with which they seem disposed to assist each other in difficulties. When a burden is too heavy for one, another will soon come to ease it of part of the weight; and if one is threatened with an attack, all hasten to the spot, to join in repelling it.
The satisfaction they express at meeting after absence is very striking, and gives some degree of individuality to their attachment. M. Huber witnessed the gesticulations of some ants, originally belonging to the same nest, that, having been entirely separated from each other four months, were afterwards brought together. Though this was equal to one-fourth of their existence as perfect insects, they immediately recognized each other, saluted mutually with their antennæ, and united once more to form one family.
They are also ever intent to promote each other’s welfare, and ready to share with their absent companions any good thing that they may meet with. Those that go abroad feed those which remain in the nest, and if they discover any stock of favourite food, they inform the whole community, as we have seen above, and teach them the way to it. M. Huber, for a particular reason, having produced heat, by means of a flambeau, in a certain part of an artificial formicary, the ants that happened to be in that quarter, after enjoying it for a time, hastened to convey the welcome intelligence to their compatriots, whom they even carried suspended upon their jaws (their usual mode of transporting each other) to the spot, till hundreds might be seen thus laden with their friends.
If ants feel the force of love, they are equally susceptible of the emotions of anger; and when they are menaced or attacked, no insects shew a greater degree of it. Providence, moreover, has furnished them with weapons and faculties which render them extremely formidable to their insect enemies, and sometimes, as I have related on a former occasion, a great annoyance to man himself, (vol. i. 2d ed. p. 123.) Two strong mandibles arm their mouth, with which they sometimes fix themselves so obstinately to the object of their attack, that they will sooner be torn limb from limb than let go their hold; and, after their battles, the head of a conquered enemy may often be seen suspended to the antennæ or legs of the victor, a trophy of his valour, which, however troublesome, he will be compelled to carry about with him to the day of his death. Their abdomen is also furnished with a poison-bag, (ioterium,) in which is secreted a powerful and venomous fluid, long celebrated in chemical researches, and once called formic acid, though now considered a modification of the acetic and malic;[12] which, when their enemy is beyond the reach of their mandibles, (it is spoken here particularly of the hill ant, or F. rufa,) standing erect on their hind legs, they discharge from their anus with considerable force, so that from the surface of the nest ascends a shower of poison, exhaling a strong sulphurous odour, sufficient to overpower or repel any insect or small animal. Such is the fury of some species, that with the acid, according to Gould, p. 34. they sometimes partly eject the poison-bag itself. If a stick be stuck into one of the nests of the hill ant, it is so saturated with the acid as to retain the scent for many hours. A more formidable weapon arms the species of the genus Myrmica latr.; for, besides the poison-bag, they are furnished with a sting; and their aspect is also often rendered peculiarly revolting, by the extraordinary length of their jaws, and by the spines which defend their head and trunk.
But weapons without valour are of but little use; and this is one distinguishing feature of this pigmy race. Their courage and pertinacity are unconquerable, and are often sublimed into the most inconceivable rage and fury. It makes no difference to them whether they attack a mite or an elephant; and man himself instils no terror into their warlike breasts. Point your finger towards any individual of F. rufa; instead of running away, it instantly faces about, and, that it may make the most of itself, stiffening its legs into a nearly straight line, it gives its body the utmost elevation it is capable of; and thus—
“Collecting all its might, dilated stands,”
prepared to repel your attack. Put your finger a little nearer, it immediately opens its jaws to bite you, and rearing upon its hind legs, bends its abdomen between them, to eject its venom into the wound.[13]