The oblivious ant

Readers of NTN may have to bear with me on this one. It's the first poem published on the blog. Maybe the last...

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Here's the background information/story. During our recent survey trip (see older entry on the blog) to a communal conservancy, we happened upon a group of farmers meeting to discuss how to better manage their rangelands. We were asked to join them as they discussed the new technique. Essentially, they have all been sending their individual herds out untended and the herds go wherever they want. The result is drastic over-grazing...not a blade of grass to be seen for 3-4 km around the village. The new system will employ a herder who will take all cattle from the village to new areas each day. It should result in better rangeland and also reduce losses from predators.

The men were sitting in the circle you see in the photo, and as I listened to them talk I saw an ant walking across the circle carrying a grass seed. It struck me that the Holistic Management that the farmers were discussing would most likely affect the ant, even though the ant didn't realize its fate was being determined at that very moment. So, it's thoughts about those connections that sometimes go unnoticed in nature.

Now, the poem...

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The Oblivious Ant

It was an ant.

Carrying a grass seed late in winter.

Lucky to find the seed on the bare ground.

The men sitting in a circle around the ant did not notice the struggle to carry the seed.

The ant, also oblivious, saw their legs as giant tree trunks in a forest that needed traversing.

But, the trees were making decisions.

Decisions about grass.

Decisions about ants.

Although the trees said their decisions were about cattle and goats.

The trees shuffled their feet, debating.

The ant dodged their feet, worrying only about its cargo and final destination.

It was the mouths of the trees (not their feet) that decided the ant's fate.

The ant heard only the wind as the trees talked and talked.

The ant left the circle with its seed.

Only 12,654 steps to go to reach its mound.

The trees decided that the ant, next year, would have more seeds.

Then, everyone went home without saying good-bye to the ant.

"I found a seed," the ant said to its friend as it reached the mound.

--L. Powell, on the Ehirovipuka Conservancy, Namibia