High Desert Hazards: Don’t Pet the Velvet Ants

 

    Imagine that you are three years old. You are sitting in your backyard pouring dirt from a spoon into a blue plastic pail, watching the light catch on the shiny flakes in the dirt. An ant wanders near your purple Velcro sneakers.

But not just any ant! This ant is larger than most, and its body seems to be covered in white, fluffy fur. Unlike most creatures you have tried to befriend, this one is moving slowly, as if it has nothing in the world to fear. Perhaps it is waiting for a friend to pick it up, pet it, and play with it.

                You consider vaguely that your mother has told you not to pet the fluffy ants. There was some pressing reason she did not want you to touch them. But even for all her words, you often misunderstand her; perhaps this is one of those times?  Surely there could be nothing wrong with gently, ever so gently, stroking that soft, white fur.

                You reach out your hand and touch the fluffy ant. It’s not as soft as you imagined, but nothing bad happens right away.

            You use your chubby fingers to pick up the tiny creature. “Hello, fluffy ant. Do you want to be my friend?”

Then, quick as lightning, the ant rears around and bites you. Its bite stings like fire. You drop it, screaming, “Mother!” at the top of your lungs.

“Rosy, Rosy-Baby- what is it?” Your mother inspects you all over to find out why you are screaming. You hold up your hand as it throbs and burns. The burning has not subsided- if anything, it is getting worse now. You continue howling, betrayed by an unsafe world.

Your mother glances down at the dirt, looking for any possible causes for your distress. She sees the ant scurry away. “Oh, Rosy, you were bit by a velvet ant.”  

Only a popsicle and The Land Before Time can help calm you down now. It still takes at least an hour for the burning in your hand to become a memory. You promise yourself you will never pet a fluffy ant again. Painful experience has now taught you everything you need to know about velvet ants.

The next day, you are back in the dirt pile, digging with your pink plastic shovel.  A velvet ant wanders by- you glare at it suspiciously. You will not be taken in by its cuddly exterior again.

But what is this curled up in this dead, dry leaf? A bee? And right next to you? The little insect is very still in the cold morning air. A bee couldn’t hurt you, could it? Bees make honey- that’s what your picture book said. They are friendly. Surely nothing could go wrong if you reached out and picked up that little half-dead bee.  Perhaps he needs a friend?