Jack and Poppy crashed into the kitchen, waving their arms. Like windmills. And wiggling their fingers. Like handfuls of squirmy worms. “Mum!” they both yelled at the same time. Mum spun around. “Whoa!” she said. “Kids! Slow down kids. What’ve we got here?”
Jack and Poppy clapped their hands together and laughed and laughed. Jack said, “Mum, it’s ants.” Poppy nodded. “Ants, Mum. We’ve been hearing about them at school.”
Now mum was smiling too. “Ants?” she said. “Ants are OK. I thought you were bringing me handfuls of little jumping mice. Or something. Ants are alright.”
Poppy rummaged in her school bag and found her book and held it up. “See, Mum” she said. “Ants. They’re totally interesting!” They really were. Jack and Poppy told their mum ants built nests underground and worked in teams. Jack said, “They can carry big loads, you know, Mum. Seriously big. Heavier than themselves.”
Now mum was nodding. She said, “I know all about that. They come into my kitchen sometimes, you know. First just one. It finds my sugar. Then it goes away and tells the others. And before I know it, there’s a long line of them coming and going in my kitchen. All carrying sugar back to their ant hole!”
Poppy said, “But, Mum, they’re so cute. Always busy. Hurrying around.” Jack said, “Not a minute to spare.” Mum laughed and said the kids could be interested in ants as long as they did whatever … outside. Not in her kitchen. Not near her sugar.
Jack chuckled. “Mum, we know exactly where to look at some ants.” Mum looked at him with her questioning look. “Up the hill somewhere?” she asked. Yes! Under an old rusty drum that Jack and Poppy had once found. It was big and wobbly, but underneath it there was a nest. Full of ants. Busy, bustling ants.
Jack said, “It’s a research paradise.” Poppy nodded. “And we’re your top researchers, Mum!” She headed out the door. Jack followed. Mum laughed and watched as they scooted out the gate, along the footpath and disappeared up the hill. Up and up. Through patches of wavy grass and under trees that swayed and creaked in the wind. Along a row of bushes. And there was the big rusty drum!
It was almost as big as Jack and it was even more rusty than he remembered. It was standing up, wobbling a bit, on a slope. And underneath, in the ground, there was an ant hole. Poppy pointed. “The nest’s still here, Jack.” “Yep,” he said. “And still busy.”
It certainly was busy. Jack and Poppy crept close to the hole. An ant head appeared. It wriggled out and stopped. The antennae waved. It held up a tiny bundle of something. Then in an instant it jumped out and ran off. And right away another head was there. And it wriggled out and it was carrying a bundle too. Then another. Then another. So fast. A whole line of ants was streaming out of the hole into the sunlight. Plop. Plop. Plop. And all of them carrying little bundles. At the same time other ants were coming to the hole. A whole line of the scurrying ants, pouring towards the hole.
Ants were everywhere. Carrying things. Dragging things. Legs pumping. Dodging and weaving. It was non-stop busy! Jack said he’d never seen the ants rushing like this. Poppy said it was maybe because of the weather. Or something. Jack said, “Hope they’re alright. All that running would make me tired!”
Then he stopped and grabbed Poppy’s arm. “Poppy. See what I see?” Poppy turned slowly and said in her big-sister voice that that depended on what it was that Jack was seeing. Jack interrupted, “Poppy,” he said, “I’m serious. It’s bundles of food. They’re carrying food.” Now it was Poppy’s turn to grab Jack. “You’re right!” she gasped. “They’re carrying food. What’s going on?”
Jack started to say he didn’t know, when Poppy squealed. “Jack!” He stumbled back and looked. And there was a mouse! A little soft mouse with a sniffing nose. Squeezing out of the ant hole. And carrying ant food! As much ant food as it could carry. Then, right behind it, another mouse squeezed out of the hole and it was also carrying a bundle. And another mouse. And another.
Jack danced up and down and yelled, “Poppy, they’re helping the ants!” Poppy was looking around and now she gasped. “Look! There’s more!” She was right. There were others. Tiny grey mice, with squiggly tails. Lots of them. Scrabbling and hurrying through the grass towards the ant hole at the bottom of the big rusty drum. Dozens of mice. Hundreds of mice. Everywhere mice, streaming towards the ant hole! At the same time mice were plopping up out of the hole into the sunlight! It was one, great seething mass. A heaving carpet of ants and mice and legs and tails and pointed noses and waving antennae. Ants and mice! All hurrying to rescue food out of the hole!
Poppy was about to ask, ‘why’ when Jack looked up. He yelled, “Poppy! Watch out!” He pointed to the drum. The big rusty drum towering over the ant hole. It was moving, ever so slightly moving. It was leaning over. It was teetering. Slowly, slowly it began to topple over. Jack yelled, “It’s going to smash the ants!”
Poppy leap at the drum. She threw out her arms wide and clamped onto it. Then Jack wrapped his arms around it. He stretched and stretched and tried to hang on with his fingers. At their feet ants and mice were dashing and swerving. And the drum was heavy. It was too heavy. It kept leaning and moving down. Jack’s fingers slipped. So did Poppy’s. The tall drum was pushing on them. Moving and sliding in their hands. Jack yelled, “Lift! Stop it!” Poppy gripped harder.
And the drum stopped! Jack and Poppy gave a heave. They threw all their weight at the drum. And it straightened. Very slightly. They heaved again. And the drum moved back. Just a bit. One more heave … and the drum sank back to where it had been.
Well, Jack and Poppy stepped back and looked at each other. Poppy said, “We’ve just saved a whole nest of busy ants.” Jack said yes they had but now he and Poppy should push the drum away from the hole so the ants would be totally safe. “Out of danger,” he added.
So he and Poppy got hold of the rusty old drum again, as best they could. Jack counted, ‘one. two. three!’ and they pushed. Nothing happened. Again, ‘one. two. three’ and they pushed. This time the drum moved. And it kept moving. Now it was toppling. Over it went rolling and bouncing and swishing and thudding down the hill. The ant nest was safe!
Then it was Jack and Poppy’s turn to bounce and swish down the hill. Down and down. They raced to the footpath, barged though the gate just as mum was carrying a big basket of washing into the kitchen. “Mum, you’ll never guess,” Jack said.
Mum said, “Let me try. Hmm. I’m guessing that Mrs Threadbare next door has given you lollipops?” Poppy laughed and said ‘no mum’. Jack smiled and told her about the ants and the mice and the big wobbly drum. And Poppy said, “They were so busy. Somehow they knew their ant hole was going to be smashed.”
Mum said sometimes we’ve got to be busy. “Jesus got so busy one time his family thought he should stop,” she said. “Stop and rest.” Jack nodded. He remembered that story from a Bible reading one bedtime. Then mum said she’d also been busy that afternoon. Making muffins. Jack’s eyes lit up. A huge smile spread over his face. Then suddenly he dashed for the kitchen door, to try and beat Poppy.