The Ants Are Building Topsoil

I got stuck staring at a red ant pile.

When you’re Mitch Hegman, these things happen.

But I wasn’t thinking about the ants. I got to thinking about dirt. Topsoil, according to the touchy folks at the local plant nursery.

We tend to think of topsoil as something that has always been there, just hanging out and waiting for something exciting to happen. But topsoil is not quite as passive as it looks. It is continually being built, moved, mixed, and modified by some remarkably small construction crews. Ants are among the most industrious of these soil engineers. They excavate their nests, haul soil ingredients from below to the surface, mix mineral particles, create passageways for air and water, and carry bits of organic material into their underground colonies.

The red ants I observed have created a huge mound of mostly organic material, two feet tall and nearly twice that in width.

In either scenario, ants redistribute nutrients and alter the structure of the soil around them. Scientists call this activity bioturbation, which is a rather impressive word for what amounts to ants digging holes and moving dirt around.

My kind of work.

Red Ants at Work

—Mitchell Hegman

Eating Pain for Dinner

A surprising number of us crave a healthy dose of pain for dinner. I’m talking about adding hot peppers to our dishes. While some may claim hot peppers are adding a “taste” of heat to dinner, from a physiological standpoint, capsaicin, the chemical compound responsible for the heat, binds to a specific protein on your nerve endings called the TRPV1 receptor, creating pain.

While this reaction to capsaicin is essentially a false alarm on a receptor that is supposed to trigger at real temperatures above 106°F, the pain feels absolutely genuine.

Again, hot is not flavor; it’s pain. And, sincerely, I don’t enjoy eating pain. I prefer my tacos merely warm and a good old mild comfort food such as macaroni and cheese. Apparently, I’m just not wired for fire.

Desiree’s Peppers

—Mitchell Hegman

An Early Blush

I know quite a few Midwesterners who have transplanted themselves here in Montana. They don’t seem terribly confused and have adapted well. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the buckeye tree (of Midwestern origins) Desiree and I planted in front of our house. Even though fall is not scheduled to arrive until September 22, the muddled, out-of-its-element tree pulled the pin, as the saying goes, and turned autumn red this week.

Apparently, buckeye trees are known for being somewhat rash when charged with prepping for fall. Still, it’s pretty weird to see the blush of colors when the apples on a nearby tree have yet to fully ripen and our first frost is not yet knocking at the door.

Buckeye Tree

Apple Tree

—Mitchell Hegman

Yesterday and Today

There was a tattered woman, too.

She wore shawls with so many colors

they were like a season in themselves,

or a remembrance of curious times and old money.

 

Each day, she strode to the post office,

and glided echoless down the marbled walls.

 

Perhaps she didn't believe in time,

or distrusted randomness and dreams.

 

Each day she posted a scented letter to herself

and picked up the letter from the day previous,

 

smelling,

oh, engulfed in the roseate sweetness

and certainty of yesterday.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Bullsnake at the Door

In case you’ve ever wondered what a bullsnake would look like on the front stoop of your house, I’m sharing a photograph of one on mine as an example. I first spotted the snake when it poked its head inside after I opened the garage door to walk outside.

I’m hoping this snake is a good mouser. I could use the help.

—Mitchell Hegman

Dumb Ideas

Following is a list of my dumb ideas (not in any particular order):

• Building a wooden ramp for jumping my Stingray bicycle without the use of nails or screws to hold it together.
• Transplanting a cactus without gloves.
• Keeping a pet tarantula in a terrarium with an unweighted screen on top of it.
• Using an extra dash of accelerant to start a fire.
• Keeping a pet tarantula.
• Dressing myself in the dark.
• Not watching the movie E.T. until fifteen years after its debut.
• Dressing myself.
• Throwing out my life-sized cardboard cutout of Salma Hayek.
• Checking to see if a fence was electrified by touching it.

—Mitchell Hegman

You Can’t Hide from Me, Yellowjacket

At the moment, I don’t have a particular beef if you are a yellowjacket. And I’ve more or less forgiven a pair of them for that time they stung me when I startled them by hammering on a fascia board near their nest under the eave of my lake storage shed.

While I have no immediate issue of concern with yellowjackets, I remain wary. And just yesterday, I found one attempting to hide under a sunflower alongside my back deck. I don’t know what this solitary yellowjacket was up to, but I want all yellowjackets to know I am wise to their ways, and I’m posting a photograph to prove it.

Hiding Yellowjacket

—Mitchell Hegman