Our ant lab studies 3 species of ants and their interactions and behaviors. You’re about to hear everything that I personally think about their overall personalities and why I have banned myself from working with some of them.
We work with Cephalotes varians, Pseudomyrmex ejectus, and Pseudomyrmex gracilis. I’ve learned that these ants are absolutely not all made equal, even if they all come from the same mangrove swamp in Florida.
First, I’ll introduce the C. varians (turtle ants) as they are the most abundant in the lab. One thing we have to do when receiving these ants is convince them to move out of their current home twigs and into our shiny, new acrylic twigs so we can easily census and test them.
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(How the bins start before twig cracking and how they end up after you are finished. Images taken by author)
C. varians absolutely hate this. They make it very clear that they do not support change and will do whatever it takes to stay in place. I can almost guarantee you that if you left a tiny fragment of bark in the enclosure that by morning 20 of them would be under it.
(This colony decided that they liked this gray lid better than the enclosed, safe nests that we gave them. Image taken by author)
I’ve learned that when trying to break apart their current twigs, the best way to actually ensure that you remove as many ants as possible is shoving your paint brush in the twigs and pushing them out. Turtle ants rarely bite your brush as they are little armored tanks not really worried about anything. The tiny, black insects will also blend in particularly well to the shadowed interior of the twig so trusting your eyesight is not recommended. It is also not recommended to trust that any twig entrance is ‘too small’ or the gap between the bark and stick is ‘too thin.’ They’re in there. They're always there. When you get lucky enough to find brood in a twig, place it back in their enclosure and keep a close eye on where they then move it to.
(A twig with a lot of brood and after cracking had to be placed in the bin gently to allow them to move the brood. Image taken by author)
I have learned the hard way that if given the chance, they will move brood from one end, around the twig, and directly back into the other end, allowing you absolutely zero progress in removing them from the enclosure.
(The culprits that moved this brood from one end of this tiny twig piece into the other end of the same tiny, exposed, twig piece. Image taken by author)
When you do succeed in fully splitting a twig, expect them to immediately crawl onto your glove, in your glove, and anywhere they can reach. They will blend in very well to your cut-protection glove and as such, scratching itches is inadvisable, as well as wearing dark clothing while doing this.
(A C. varians worker that had crawled onto my glove while cracking. Pink circle for clarity of vision. Image taken by Marissa Douglas)
C. varians are also horrible swimmers (ironic since they live in swamps). Our feeding process is so laborious due to the fact that if you give turtle ants any opportunity at all to drown themselves, they will. I was once removing their water from their bin that is very carefully placed to only have a wick sticking out from a tube to ensure no drowning possibilities, however we had cut the wick-hole slightly too large and I discovered 5 turtle ants just floating around in there. Very rude of them.
The best introduction to P. ejectus is the fact that one had once appeared on my hand an hour after lab feeding day. To this day I have absolutely no idea how it got there and I also would never like to come near them again. I had broken my rule of never touching their bins, fed a singular colony, and yet that was enough. P. ejectus are tiny little oblong cylinders of pure spite. No matter what their name may suggest, P. ejectus are the most difficult to remove, or eject (hehe), from their twigs. They run incredibly quickly, of course can sting you, and will toy with your patience by running laps around your paint brush as you sit there, slowly losing your mind that this one ant will not just step back into its home. I have exclaimed my frustration quite loudly many times while feeding them and I have reached my last straw with them. I am convinced they realize you are coming and become determined to bother you for as long as possible. They also are master climbers and the substance we put on the plastic bins (Fluon) to ensure they can’t climb out is a pure joke to them.
(We had just opened the lid to this colony. All circled ants are currently on the walls covered by Fluon. Image taken by author)
I can guarantee you will find a minimum of four P. ejectus ants on the lid of your bin or out of it immediately when opening it.
(Two P. ejectus ants on the lid and one that crawled outside its colony bin. First Image taken by author, second taken by Marissa Douglas)
P. gracilis are absolutely terrifying to me. They are the largest, have the biggest stingers, and have the most curiosity and rage in their bodies. Often times, to incite the ants to move from their place we can push them off with a paintbrush–which works wonders for the compact, armored, and semi-immobile C. varians ants–however the wasp-like stinging balls of rage we call P. gracilis would instead much rather chase your brush like prey:
(P. gracilis ant actively chasing a paintbrush. Image taken by author)
Which, yes is also effective (thankfully) however they will also immediately shoot up it if they gain contact which often ends in me immediately dropping the brush into the bin in fear (that I then retrieve with tweezers).
(A series of events: a paintbrush dropped out of fear into a bin as a worker ant crawled up towards the hand holding it and the guilty ant walking herself back to her bin. Another pair of tweezers dropped again for the same reason. Those same tweezers being retrieved from the bin once the ant vacated them. Images taken by author, tweezers being picked up by Marissa Douglas)
They will also raise up when you near them with your hand or paint brush and attempt to climb onto whatever is near. They are incredibly curious creatures and I would be completely unsurprised if someone discovered they had complex thoughts.
(P. gracilis raising up to investigate the tweezers. Image taken by author. Not pictured: two very scared lab workers blabbering in worry that it the ant will crawl up and we will drop another pair of tweezers into a bin)
On the predatory side, we have also witnessed two P. gracilis ants team up and become extremely determined to kill a mealworm in their bin. Notably the mealworm fought a very valiant fight (for over 30 minutes) but was no match for the protein-starved (I say that sarcastically, we feed our ants I promise) P. gracilis ants.
(Two P. gracilis workers battling a mealworm. Image taken by Marissa Douglas)
They absolutely clear out any and all protein given to them, then leave a certifiable mess in their enclosure with all the remnants of the pieces they don’t want.
(An example of how the P. gracilis bins begin to build up scraps and organic matter from the meals they are fed. Image taken by author)
P. gracilis ants will also decide to bite your paintbrush if you anger them and will not let go no matter how hard you try and move it. You will have to resort to cutting off the bristle and leaving one in the bin with them.
By the end of this lab experience I have learned that I lack patience, and am terrified of fast ants. My overall takeaway is that I should stick to the slow-moving, tank-like, semi-blind C. varians ants and stay far far away from the dangerously curious, aggressive, short-tempered, super-speedy, Pseudomyrmex genus in order to maintain my own sanity.
Media Credits:
All images by Marissa Douglas and author
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