Death in Uruguay

The killing begins before water for the morning coffee comes to a boil and ends when the final light is extinguished for the night.  Hundreds die daily but no one mourns.  Man’s will must be done.

The first kills of the day are tiny red ants that scurry over the kitchen counters foraging for bits of food left from the night before.  I barely feel them under my thumb.

Next are the big black ants.  Though I cannot hear it, I feel the crunch when I crush them between my thumb and forefinger.

While we listen to NPR in front of the big window in the morning sun, we watch the two small frogs that share fly duty.  I stun a few flies and feed them to the frogs to pass off some of my accumulating bad karma.

I find the ant hills when I mow the lawn and the body count soars.  The insect book says I need to pour four gallons of boiling water on each hill but I use just a kettle’s worth.   If you do not take out the queen, the killing is for naught.  The book does not take into consideration the satisfaction that comes with the kill so if I have to go back again, double my pleasure.

If it were possible to string ant skulls I would have enough for a bracelet—I would include some tiny silver spikes to complete the look.

Throughout the day I patrol the house so stealthily that the flies, spiders and other insects don’t even know I am there.  I am confident their lot has a nickname for me, like “lightening wrist”, “white death” or “S.W.A.T Man”.

At night before bed the moths sneak into the bathroom and beat a tattoo around the single light fixture.  The bodies are too large to crush outright (I have my limits) so I toss them into the toilet still flapping.  They are lightweight and don’t usually flush down the first time so I often get to see the fruits of my labor again at first light.  I laugh out loud at the folly of them entering my domain and flush again.

Ah Uruguayan country life, what further surprise blessings will you bestow upon me?

Tagged as: uruguay