Chapter XIII: Flying Ants and Locusts

We all climbed back into the buffalo-wagon, to go homeward. On the way, we passed a house which had collapsed in the middle, as though a great weight had broken its backbone.

"A blind, flying ant did that," said Fil.

"Now, Fil, you really think I'm from the backwoods; you wish me to believe impossible tales," I replied.

"Not a bit of it," said Fil. "A flying white ant broke the thick beams of that big building, just as though a mountain fell on it, or as if an earthquake had rent it."

"Why, then, did they not stop the ants, the silly, lazy people?" I exclaimed.

"Because they couldn't see or hear them," said Fil. "You see, it happens in this way. Our deadly white ant flies in a cloud of ants. When he reaches a house, he bores inside; then he is happy. He feels his way. He does not need to see. He just follows his nose, so to speak.

"His sense of smell, perhaps, draws him to the lumber of the house on which he lives. He does not like air. So, when he reaches a beam, he and all the other brother ants eat out the heart of it; but they do not break the shell, which is painted. The people in the house do not know anything about this, for the ants of course make no noise, and the painted outside surface of the beam is unbroken.

"Suddenly there is a strain during a typhoon, or a jar is caused by some person walking overhead; and down comes the whole house, like a person whose bones suddenly give way and become powder. The ants have escaped, because they have eaten the whole beam and have gone elsewhere for food."

"Can't you catch and destroy such awful pests?" I asked.

"Oh, yes! It's great fun," replied Filippa. We place a pail of water in a dark place, and light a candle which floats on a saucer. The ants fly to the light. Their wings are burnt off; and, silly, half-blind things, they all get drowned or wet, so that we can gather and destroy them."

"They can nip you, too," said Moro, who was slapping at something on his hand.

"Some people in the Philippines eat insects--the locusts. They fry them in coconut oil. Did you ever hear of such a wonder?" asked Filippa.

"Come to think of it, yes; for in the Bible it says that the food of John the Baptist, the great prophet, was locusts and wild honey, when he was in distress in the wilderness."

"What does _locust_ mean?" asked the wise Padre. Nobody seemed to know.

"It means leaping," said the Padre.

"That's how we catch them," said Fil. "Before their wings grow, they jump. We dig deep ditches and chase them by beating drums, for they dislike noise. They jump and fall into the ditch, which, however, is too high for them to jump out of. Then we pour on oil and burn them."

"If we didn't, they'd eat up all our crops," remarked the Padre.

"I know a bird that catches them. I've seen it," said Fil, whose eyes were very sharp, like a boy scout in the woods.

"What kind of a bird?" inquired Filippa, who loved bird pets.

"A kind of Chinese ground-lark. It has large eyes and a long bill, and its feathers are spotted," replied Fil.