Part 26

"The labourers," he says, "of which the colony is composed, not only work continually on the outside of their nest, but, differing very essentially from other species, who willingly remain in the interior, sheltered from the sun, they prefer living in the open air, and do not hesitate to carry on, even in our presence, the greater part of their operations.

"To have an idea how the straw or stubble-roof is formed, let us take a view of the ant-hill at its origin, when it is simply a cavity in the earth. Some of its future inhabitants are seen wandering about in search of materials fit for the exterior work, with which, though rather irregularly, they cover up the entrance; whilst others are employed in mixing the earth, thrown up in hollowing the interior, with fragments of wood and leaves, which are every moment brought in by their fellow-assistants; and this gives a certain consistence to the edifice, which increases in size daily. Our little architects leave here and there cavities, where they intend constructing the galleries which are to lead to the exterior, and as they remove in the morning the barriers placed at the entrance of their nest the preceding evening, the passages are kept open during the whole time of its construction. We soon observed the roof to become convex; but we should be greatly deceived did we consider it solid. This roof is destined to include many apartments or stories. Having observed the motions of these little builders through a pane of glass, adjusted against one of their habitations, I am thence enabled to speak with some degree of certainty upon the manner in which they are constructed. I ascertained that it is by excavating or mining the under portion of their edifice that they form their spacious halls--low, indeed, and of heavy construction, yet sufficiently convenient for the use to which they are appropriated, that of receiving, at certain hours of the day, the larvæ and pupæ.

"These halls have a free communication by galleries, made in the same manner. If the materials of which the ant-hill is composed were only interlaced, they would fall into a confused heap every time the ants attempted to bring them into regular order. This, however, is obviated by their tempering the earth with rain-water, which, afterwards hardened in the sun, so completely and effectually binds together the several substances, as to permit the removal of certain fragments from the ant-hill without any injury to the rest; it, moreover, strongly opposes the introduction of the rain. I never found, even after long and violent rains, the interior of the nest wetted to more than a quarter of an inch from the surface, provided it had not been previously out of repair, or deserted by its inhabitants.

"The ants are extremely well sheltered in their chambers, the largest of which is placed nearly in the centre of the building; it is much loftier than the rest, and traversed only by the beams that support the ceiling; it is in this spot that all the galleries terminate, and this forms, for the most part, their usual residence.

"As to the underground portion, it can only be seen when the ant-hill is placed against a declivity; all the interior may be then readily brought in view, by simply raising up the straw roof. The subterranean residence consists of a range of apartments, excavated in the earth, taking an horizontal direction."

M. P. Huber, in order to observe the operations of the wood-ant with more attention, transferred colonies of them to his artificial formicaries, plunging the feet of the stand into water to prevent their escape till they were reconciled to their abode, and had made some progress in repairing it.

There is this remarkable difference in the nest of the wood-ants, that they do not construct a long covert way as if for concealment, as the yellow and the brown ants do. The wood-ants are not, like them, afraid of being surprised by enemies, at least during the day, when the whole colony is either foraging in the vicinity or employed on the exterior. But the proceedings of the wood-ants at night are well worthy of notice; and when M. Huber began to study their economy, he directed his entire attention to their night proceedings. "I remarked," says he, "that their habitations changed in appearance hourly, and that the diameter of those spacious avenues, where so many ants could freely pass each other during the day, was, as night approached, gradually lessened. The aperture, at length, totally disappeared, the dome was closed on all sides, and the ants retired to the bottom of their nest.

"In further noticing the apertures of these ant-hills, I fully ascertained the nature of the labour of its inhabitants, of which I could not before even guess the purport; for the surface of the nest presented such a constant scene of agitation, and so many insects were occupied in carrying materials in every direction, that the movement offered no other image than that of confusion.

"I saw then clearly that they were engaged in stopping up passages; and for this purpose they at first brought forward little pieces of wood, which they deposited near the entrance of those avenues they wished to close; they placed them in the stubble; they then went to seek other twigs and fragments of wood, which they disposed above the first, but in a different direction, and appeared to choose pieces of less size in proportion as the work advanced. They, at length, brought in a number of dried leaves, and other materials of an enlarged form, with which they covered the roof: an exact miniature of the art of our builders, when they form the covering of any building. Nature, indeed, seems everywhere to have anticipated the inventions of which we boast, and this is doubtless one of the most simple.

"Our little insects, now in safety in their nest, retire gradually to the interior before the last passages are closed; one or two only remain without, or concealed behind the doors on guard, while the rest either take their repose, or engage in different occupations in the most perfect security. I was impatient to know what took place in the morning upon these ant-hills, and therefore visited them at an early hour. I found them in the same state in which I had left them the preceding evening. A few ants were wandering about on the surface of the nest, some others issued from time to time from under the margin of their little roofs formed at the entrance of the galleries; others afterwards came forth, who began removing the wooden bars that blockaded the entrance, in which they readily succeeded. This labour occupied them several hours. The passages were at length free, and the materials with which they had been closed scattered here and there over the ant-hill. Every day, morning and evening, during the fine weather, I was a witness to similar proceedings. On days of rain the doors of all the ant-hills remained closed. When the sky was cloudy in the morning, or rain was indicated, the ants, who seemed to be aware of it, opened but in part their several avenues, and immediately closed them when the rain commenced."

The galleries and chambers which are roofed in as thus described are very similar to those of the mason-ants, being partly excavated in the earth, and partly built with the clay thence procured. It is in these they pass the night, and also the colder months of the winter, when they become torpid, or nearly so, and of course require not the winter granaries of corn with which the ancients fabulously furnished them.

Carpenter-Ants.

The ants that work in wood perform much more extensive operations than any of the other carpenter insects which we have mentioned. Their only tools, like those of bees and wasps, are their jaws or mandibles; but though these may not appear so curiously constructed as the ovipositor file of the tree-hopper (Cicada), or the rasp and saw of the saw-flies (Tenthredinidæ), they are no less efficient in the performance of what is required. Among the carpenter-ants, the emmet or jet-ant (F. fuliginosa) holds the first rank, and is easily known by being rather less in size than the wood-ant, and by its fine shining black colour. It is less common in Britain than some of the preceding, though its colonies may occasionally be met with in the trunks of decaying oak or willow trees in hedges.

"The labourers," says Huber, "of this species work always in the interior of trees, and are desirous of being screened from observation: thus every hope on our part is precluded of following them in their several occupations. I tried every expedient I could devise to surmount this difficulty; I endeavoured to accustom these ants to live and work under my inspection, but all my efforts were unsuccessful; they even abandoned the most considerable portion of their nest to seek some new asylum, and spurned the honey and sugar which I offered them for nourishment. I was now, by necessity, limited to the inspection only of their edifices: but, by decomposing some of the fragments with care, I hoped to acquire some knowledge of their organization.

"On one side I found horizontal galleries, hidden in great part by their walls, which follow the circular direction of the layers of the wood; and on another, parallel galleries, separated by extremely thin partitions, having no communication except by a few oval apertures. Such is the nature of these works, remarkable for their delicacy and lightness.

"In other fragments I found avenues which opened laterally, including portions of walls and transverse partitions, erected here and there within the galleries, so as to form separate chambers. When the work is further advanced, round holes are always observed, encased, as it were, between two pillars cut out in the same wall. These holes in course of time become square, and the pillars, originally arched at both ends, are worked into regular columns by the chisel of our sculptors. This, then, is the second specimen of their art. This portion of the edifice will probably remain in this state.

"But in another quarter are fragments differently wrought, in which these same partitions, pierced now in every part, and hewn skilfully, are transformed into colonnades, which sustain the upper stories, and leave a free communication throughout the whole extent. It can readily be perceived how parallel galleries, hollowed out upon the same plan, and the sides taken down, leaving only from space to space what is necessary to sustain their ceilings, may form an entire story; but as each has been pierced separately, the flooring cannot be very level: this, however, the ants turn to their advantage, since these furrows are better adapted to retain the larvæ that may be placed there.

"The stories constructed in the great roots offer greater irregularity than those in the very body of the tree, arising either from the hardness and interlacing of the fibres, which renders the labour more difficult, and obliges the labourers to depart from their accustomed manner, or from their not observing in the extremities of their edifice the same arrangement as in the centre: whatever it be, horizontal stories and numerous partitions are still found. If the work be less regular, it becomes more delicate; for the ants, profiting by the hardness and solidity of the materials, give to their building an extreme degree of lightness. I have seen fragments of from eight to ten inches in length, and of equal height, formed of wood as thin as paper, containing a number of apartments, and presenting a most singular appearance. At the entrance of these apartments, worked out with so much care, are very considerable openings; but in place of chambers and extensive galleries, the layers of the wood are hewn in arcades, allowing the ants a free passage in every direction. These may be regarded as the gates or vestibules conducting to the several lodges."

It is a singular circumstance in the structures of these ants, that all the wood which they carve is tinged of a black colour, as if it were smoked; and M. Huber was not a little solicitous to discover whence this arose. It certainly does not add to the beauty of their streets, which look as sombre as the most smoke-dyed walls in the older lanes of the metropolis. M. Huber could not satisfy himself whether it was caused by the exposure of the wood to the atmosphere, by some emanation from the ants, or by the thin layers of wood being acted upon or decomposed by the formic acid. But if any or all of these causes operated in blackening the wood, we should be ready to anticipate a similar effect in the case of other species of ants which inhabit trees; yet the black tint is only found in the excavations of the jet-ant.

We are acquainted with several colonies of the jet-ants (Formica fuliginosa)--one of which, in the roots and trunk of an oak on the road from Lewisham to Sydenham, near Brockley, in Kent, is so extremely populous, that the numbers of its inhabitants appeared to us beyond any reasonable estimate. None of the other colonies of this species which we have seen appear to contain many hundreds. On cutting into the root of the before-mentioned tree, we found the vertical excavations of much larger dimensions, both in width and depth, than those represented by Huber in the preceding cut (page 302). What surprised us the most was to see the tree growing vigorously and fresh, though its roots were chiseled in all directions by legions of workers, while every leaf, and every inch of the bark, was also crowded by parties of foragers. On one of the low branches we found a deserted nest of the white-throat (Sylvia cinerea, Temminck), in the cavity of which they were piled upon one another as close as the unhappy negroes in the hold of a slave-ship; but we could not discover what had attracted them hither. Another dense group, collected on one of the branches, led us to the discovery of a very singular oak gall, formed on the bark in the shape of a pointed cone, and crowded together. It is probable that the juice which they extracted from these galls was much to their taste. (J. R.)

Beside the jet-ant, several other species exercise the art of carpentry,--nay, what is more wonderful still, they have the ingenuity to knead up, with spider's-web for a cement, the chips which they chisel out into a material with which they construct entire chambers. The species which exercise this singular art are the Ethiopian (Formica nigra) and the yellow ant (F. flava).

We once observed the dusky ants (F. fusca) at Blackheath, in Kent, busily employed in carrying out chips from the interior of a decaying black poplar, at the root of which a colony was established; but, though it thence appears that this species can chisel wood if they choose, yet they usually burrow in the earth, and by preference, as we have remarked, at the root of a tree, the leaves of which supply them with food.

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Among the foreign ants we may mention a small yellow ant of South America, described by Dampier, which seems, from his account, to construct a nest of green leaves. "Their sting," he says, "is like a spark of fire; and they are so thick among the boughs in some places, that one shall be covered with them before he is aware. These creatures have nests on great trees, placed on the body between the limbs: some of their nests are as big as a hogshead. This is their winter habitation; for in the wet season they all repair to these their cities, where they preserve their eggs. In the dry season, when they leave their nests, they swarm all over the woodlands, for they never trouble the savannahs. Great paths, three or four inches broad, made by them, may be seen in the woods. They go out light, but bring home heavy loads on their backs, all of the same substance, and equal in size. I never observed anything besides pieces of green leaves, so big that I could scarcely see the insect for his burthen; yet they would march stoutly, and so many were pressing forward that it was a very pretty sight, for the path looked perfectly green with them."

Ants observed in New South Wales, by the gentlemen in the expedition under Captain Cook, are still more interesting. "Some," we are told, "are as green as a leaf, and live upon trees, where they build their nests of various sizes, between that of a man's head and his fist. These nests are of a very curious structure: they are formed by bending down several of the leaves, each of which is as broad as a man's hand, and gluing the points of them together, so as to form a purse. The viscous matter used for this purpose is an animal juice which nature has enabled them to elaborate. Their method of first bending down the leaves we had no opportunity to observe; but we saw thousands uniting all their strength to hold them in this position, while other busy multitudes were employed within in applying this gluten that was to prevent their returning back. To satisfy ourselves that the leaves were bent and held down by the efforts of these diminutive artificers, we disturbed them in their work; and as soon as they were driven from their stations, the leaves on which they were employed sprang up with a force much greater than we could have thought them able to conquer by any combination of their strength. But, though we gratified our curiosity at their expense, the injury did not go unrevenged; for thousands immediately threw themselves upon us, and gave us intolerable pain with their stings, especially those which took possession of our necks and hair, from whence they were not easily driven. Their sting was scarcely less painful than that of a bee; but, except it was repeated, the pain did not last more than a minute.

"Another sort are quite black, and their operation and manner of life are not less extraordinary. Their habitations are the inside of the branches of a tree, which they contrive to excavate by working out the pith almost to the extremity of the slenderest twig, the tree at the same time flourishing as if it had no such inmate. When we first found the tree we gathered some of the branches, and were scarcely less astonished than we should have been to find that we had profaned a consecrated grove, where every tree, upon being wounded, gave signs of life; for we were instantly covered with legions of these animals, swarming from every broken bough, and inflicting their stings with incessant violence.

"A third kind we found nested in the root of a plant, which grows on the bark of trees in the manner of mistletoe, and which they had perforated for that use. This root is commonly as big as a large turnip, and sometimes much bigger. When we cut it we found it intersected by innumerable winding passages, all filled with these animals, by which, however, the vegetation of the plant did not appear to have suffered any injury. We never cut one of these roots that was not inhabited, though some were not bigger than a hazel-nut. The animals themselves are very small, not more than half as big as the common red ant in England. They had stings, but scarcely force enough to make them felt: they had, however, a power of tormenting us in an equal, if not in a greater degree; for the moment we handled the root, they swarmed from innumerable holes, and running about those parts of the body that were uncovered, produced a titillation more intolerable than pain, except it is increased to great violence."

The species called sugar-ants in the West Indies are particularly destructive to the sugar-cane, as well as to lime, lemon, and orange-trees, by excavating their nests at the roots, and so loosening the earth that they are frequently uprooted and blown down by the winds. If this does not happen, the roots are deprived of due nourishment, and the plants become sickly and die.