While exploring the woods behind our campsite, the girls discovered this huge anthill. You can't distinguish them in this photo, but it was ALIVE with busy, industrious ants, some crawling down to scavenge, some homeward bound, lugging the corpses of myriads of insects -- from lusterless long-legged bugs to shiny iridescent green beetles -- all much larger than themselves.The forest floor for yards around the anthill was an ant thoroughfare. In fact, each of these girls undoubtedly had ants underfoot. It was impossible to avoid stepping on them.
The ants never rested. Every time we angled over to check on them, they were busy. Nearby was an ant ghost town -- an abandoned anthill, devoid of movement except for one lone ant scout, perhaps nostalgically revisiting her former home.
I wonder why they left their original abode and rebuilt a few feet away? It's something else to consider.
"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise:
Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler,
Provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.
How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?
Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep:
So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.
Proverbs 6:6-11
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