A Lesson on Community from the Sugar Bush
By Bill Hahn, AIB Judge
Like yelling, “Chocolate!!!” at a quilting bee, the feeding frenzy was on! Now I’m not talking products of the cacao tree, or even about the feminine gender (to all the chocolate lovers reading this, my sincere apologies for the false alarm). Also, I beg forgiveness to those without the chocolate gene, who simply think my attempt at humor is outright chauvinism. For the life of me I just couldn’t think of a better parallel to describe the excitement of the smallish red ants who were feeding at the sweet trough; the spiles (small wooden pegs) holding our sap buckets.
It was the 2012 sugaring season when I first witnessed the intrigue, synergy and unity of these amazing little creatures. I’d seen ants feasting on sap before, but what I observed that day moved me, gave me a whole new insight, whetted my need for appreciating the valuable gifts and dignity in others – akin to Robert Frost’s verbal opus in "Ode to a Field Mouse."
Only the red ants, a few moths, and some gnat-like insects awaken and visit in March. Typically they congregate on the bark at the spile if the seat between the bark and tap is faulty, allowing seepage of the tasty libation. If no leakage occurs, they simply walk down the spile and indulge. In their exuberance they occasionally let down their guard for the 2-3 percent sugar content, run of the woods, clear liquid. (In an average year it takes 40 to 50 gallons to produce a gallon of maple syrup, although we had one super sweet year at 30 to 1.) In apparent ecstasy they swill to their hearts' desire on the tip of the spout unaware of the tiny tsunami that builds into a drop. They lose their footing as the drop builds and tumble, along with their intoxicant, into the bucket. And it’s in the bucket that I discovered the arresting insight.
Ants easily survive what may seem like a slow-mo dive from Bridal Veil Falls, and most float with only their legs breaking the surface tension. If they struggle, they submerge, and what a way to go! On this occasion in 2012, I noticed a gathering of ants on the surface of the sap. There were eight to ten, facing one another in circular fashion, forming a raft of sorts with front legs locked, antennae moving, riding each wake of every drop. Thus they survived, kibitzing, rising above the danger, awaiting rescue; i.e., either the bucket to overflow, regaining their footing on the rim and walking to safety, or emptying into our gathering tank, being caught in the strainer and hopefully, being set free.
I made a note that year intending to write about it, but life happened. I forgot until I saw the circle of survivors again this sugaring season. So it wasn’t an anomaly after all! The ant circle raft – they pool their ingenuity, industry, and buoyancy to rise to the top, to survive; yes even thrive! No wonder the proverb admonishes, “Go to the ant…” The take home message is pull together, synergize, value others, solve problems, survive, and thrive!
Our communities would do well to mimic these fascinating little creatures. Actually the AIB model encourages vision, shared and touted heritage, common goals, pride of place, industry and quality of life, among others. Might I suggest that we at AIB would feel privileged to help you make your anthill become all it can be – a colorful, cherished destination, where folks pull together, and value giftedness and volunteerism, for the benefit of all? Now wouldn’t that be sweet?!? Dare to visit our website for engaging details at www.americainbloom.org.
Like yelling, “Chocolate!!!” at a quilting bee, the feeding frenzy was on! Now I’m not talking products of the cacao tree, or even about the feminine gender (to all the chocolate lovers reading this, my sincere apologies for the false alarm). Also, I beg forgiveness to those without the chocolate gene, who simply think my attempt at humor is outright chauvinism. For the life of me I just couldn’t think of a better parallel to describe the excitement of the smallish red ants who were feeding at the sweet trough; the spiles (small wooden pegs) holding our sap buckets.It was the 2012 sugaring season when I first witnessed the intrigue, synergy and unity of these amazing little creatures. I’d seen ants feasting on sap before, but what I observed that day moved me, gave me a whole new insight, whetted my need for appreciating the valuable gifts and dignity in others – akin to Robert Frost’s verbal opus in "Ode to a Field Mouse."
Only the red ants, a few moths, and some gnat-like insects awaken and visit in March. Typically they congregate on the bark at the spile if the seat between the bark and tap is faulty, allowing seepage of the tasty libation. If no leakage occurs, they simply walk down the spile and indulge. In their exuberance they occasionally let down their guard for the 2-3 percent sugar content, run of the woods, clear liquid. (In an average year it takes 40 to 50 gallons to produce a gallon of maple syrup, although we had one super sweet year at 30 to 1.) In apparent ecstasy they swill to their hearts' desire on the tip of the spout unaware of the tiny tsunami that builds into a drop. They lose their footing as the drop builds and tumble, along with their intoxicant, into the bucket. And it’s in the bucket that I discovered the arresting insight.
Ants easily survive what may seem like a slow-mo dive from Bridal Veil Falls, and most float with only their legs breaking the surface tension. If they struggle, they submerge, and what a way to go! On this occasion in 2012, I noticed a gathering of ants on the surface of the sap. There were eight to ten, facing one another in circular fashion, forming a raft of sorts with front legs locked, antennae moving, riding each wake of every drop. Thus they survived, kibitzing, rising above the danger, awaiting rescue; i.e., either the bucket to overflow, regaining their footing on the rim and walking to safety, or emptying into our gathering tank, being caught in the strainer and hopefully, being set free.
I made a note that year intending to write about it, but life happened. I forgot until I saw the circle of survivors again this sugaring season. So it wasn’t an anomaly after all! The ant circle raft – they pool their ingenuity, industry, and buoyancy to rise to the top, to survive; yes even thrive! No wonder the proverb admonishes, “Go to the ant…” The take home message is pull together, synergize, value others, solve problems, survive, and thrive!
Our communities would do well to mimic these fascinating little creatures. Actually the AIB model encourages vision, shared and touted heritage, common goals, pride of place, industry and quality of life, among others. Might I suggest that we at AIB would feel privileged to help you make your anthill become all it can be – a colorful, cherished destination, where folks pull together, and value giftedness and volunteerism, for the benefit of all? Now wouldn’t that be sweet?!? Dare to visit our website for engaging details at www.americainbloom.org.
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