No-one’s Ark: Matabele Ant
IUCN Status: Data Deficient
This is an extract from Human Nature: How to be a Better Animal, part of Chapter 6’s list of ten animals that I would choose to save first.
The Matabele were a fierce Zulu tribe that fought against colonial conquest in a series of brief but brutal wars. Their name comes from the tall traditional cowhide shields they used to defend themselves in combat. Sadly, cowhide does little to protect against a shot from a bayonet, and the tribe was heavily outgunned. However, they were respected and feared at times by these invading powers for the courage and cunning they displayed in their warfare. What better name could there be for an ant species that excels at military strategy and prowess?
A raid begins with one of the ant scouts leaving the nest, spending an hour or more traversing the human equivalent of several dozen miles on foot in search of a target. The prey they seek are termite nests, and if one is found, the ant will make a beeline back for the colony, leaving a trail of pheromones (scented chemicals) behind it. Upon arrival, it takes a mere 60 seconds for the army to assemble, and hundreds upon hundreds of ants stream out along the scout’s marked path. They reach the termite mound and breach its walls, overpowering any defence that is mounted. The goal is to capture as many of the termites’ larvae as possible, dragging them away back to the ants’ nest as food. Often, the raid is over in a matter of hours, but there are always casualties. What of the wounded?
Large-scale medical treatment had never been observed in the animal kingdom until recently. Yet fresh observations show that during and after the heat of the battle, injured Matabele ants are rescued by their comrades, carried back to the nest and given emergency first aid. Nurse ants treat injured soldier ants’ wounds by licking them thoroughly for several minutes to prevent fatal infection from setting in. The simple treatment is remarkably effective, with 10% of those cared for passing away as opposed to 80% if left untreated. That’s a strong record by any measure, and it gets even better.
Whereas in humans, emergency doctors have to select the patients most deserving of their attention, these ants are selfless enough to direct their carers. If they are mortally wounded, they will kick and struggle and generally refuse to cooperate with any ant who attempts to care for them. If their injuries are curable, however, they actively play up their wounds: limping when other ants walk by, and emitting a special distress pheromone to attract attention. Once treated, many of the ants go straight back to fighting- a display of courage few humans could muster.
In spite of their size, ants achieve impressive feats through the uncanny cohesion of thousands of workers. Simple rules followed by many smaller parts sum into larger complex actions known as distributed processes. Individual neurons firing in your brain are a good example, allowing you to do amazing things like reading this book. When it comes to ants, science has started viewing each colony as a single ‘superorganism,’ due to the remarkable efficiency with which the ants cooperate. That’s one heck of a claim!
Considered this way, ant superorganisms are some of the most powerful ecosystem engineers we know, shifting incredible amounts of plant matter and soil to create their homes. We can pick up some top-notch advice from them as to how our own technology might work: swarm robots that mimic ants to complete large-scale tasks; self-healing materials that instantly repair any damage; even traffic control protocols designed for congested areas.
Leaf-cutter ants are a fine example of ant-ventiveness and ant-genuity. Did you know that they invented farming 50 million years before us? I expect not. Made famous by a score of documentaries, these ants take plant material in little confetti chunks back to their nest where they chew it into a pulp and pile it up in mounds. Add to that ant faeces as fertilizer, and what do you get? Delicious domesticated fungi found nowhere else in the world except for these ant nests, and also conveniently the only thing the ants can digest.
Other ant species take the dairy farmer approach: guarding herds of aphids (tiny bug critters) that drink sugar-rich sap from plants. High in sugar but low in nutrients, the sap must be consumed in large quantities for the aphids to sustain themselves. And the ant farmers are more than happy to suck up the excess excreted out of the aphids’ rear ends. So sought after is this sweet secretion (known as ‘honeydew’) that the ants will regularly ‘milk’ the aphids for it. The farmer ants not only protect their herds but destroy the eggs of potential predators like ladybirds, and will carry the aphids between plants when one runs dry. Over winter, they store the precious aphid eggs in their ant nests and return the hatchlings to their plants come spring. Some will go so far as to clip the wings of any aphid that should grow them, preventing their precious livestock from escaping.
There are times, of course, when ants get the butt-end of a partnership: caterpillars and stick insect eggs, for example, that con the colony into caring for them. And there’s the altogether-nastier zombie fungus that enslaves ants’ bodies via mind-control whilst eating away at them from the inside. But overall, ants are the masters of working with nature to put themselves on top, and the relationship between the acacia ant and bullhorn acacia tree proves it.
Bullhorn acacia trees do a great service for ants, providing shelter in their hollowed-out thorns, sweet nectar from specially evolved nodules, and nutritious brown pods that ant larvae love. In return, the ants take measures to ensure the plant not only survives but thrives. They attack any animals attempting to feed on its leaves, and go so far as to sever and poison the stems of surrounding plants competing for sunlight. It’s a win-win scenario for the ant and its host plant that cements their place in the ecosystem.
The Matabele ant wins its spot on my ark to show how remarkable complexity can be found in the smallest of lifeforms. Humans aside, ants control the Earth and these incredible superorganisms are only just being understood.
