Johnny and the Bridge
The following is told in first person from Johnny’s perspective.
As I sit on this tiny bridge over this wonderful little creek, the water swirls together as the lighter colored brown mixes with the darker coffee colored deep. My chin rested on the railing. It’s wooden structure like a 2x4 is darkly colored, worn with grooves and in some places thick with lichen. My chin is a little sore on the rough wood, but I don’t care too much about that. My legs dangle off the bridge in my shorts and sneakers. From my nose, tiny drops of blood flow down my upper lip and into the water.
Looking over the railing into the woods I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in the woods. Pitch a tent, build a fire and never turn back. I know I’m only 10 but life has been hard these past few years. A new town again, this time a new state,
“It doesn’t even snow here!” I declare to the woods out loud with my hands outstretched and up in the air. The birds chirp back and agree.
The rough wood under my legs are an obstacle for the ants and bugs. Well, what we call bugs are usually insects with 6 legs. Like ants for example, the Hymenoptera, this group includes ants, wasps, and bees. Ants are some of my favorites with dozens of different subcategories of phyla and thousands of species. Many thousands.
I wipe my nose, smearing the blood on my index finder and my hand. I just wipe my hand on my shorts. I started getting these recently, my mom says it’s the humidity, but I don’t think she knows. The nurse asked me if I was nervous or stressed about school. Who wouldn’t be, they don’t talk like me, they pick on each other all the time and the boys all think they have to be tough. I’m not tough, I prefer being smart. I think anyone can act tough, but you can’t fake being smart.
So, I read my books about nature, draw, and explore the woods. Like today, the woods are quiet and peaceful. Even the wasps and ants leave you alone if you don’t trample on their turf. Okay, maybe not the fire ants. Those little suckers will get you anytime they can, they try to eat everything I swear! Always looking for a meal. They come from central and south America you know. Migrated their way all the way up into the United States or were brought here. Who knows, probably brought here in containers of fruit or plants for nurseries. They are kind of like army ants in Africa, carnivorous and aggressive. Unlike lots of other species of ant that are docile like leaf cutters, they use the leaves they cut to grow fungus they can use to protect their nests from bacterial infections. They even farm or domesticate the aphids, providing protection and in return getting a meal. Ants are amazing little guys and gals and are so good at adapting they live in almost every biome on the planet, except the most frozen ones.
Sometimes I wish I was an ant, it must be peaceful to have all your brothers and sisters around, not so confusing like being a human. So, many things happen to humans that I don’t understand. I bet ants just crawl around and find food or fight other ants. When you step on an ant and squish them, they never see it coming, I bet it’s peaceful to get squished like an ant. Sometimes, I wish I would get squished, so I don’t have to try and figure out life anymore.
A little ant starts the long journey up the railing post. His little hook feet and powerful legs make easy work of the climb. One tiny step at a time he pulls, holds, pushes, and grasps. Scenting the post with his long antenna. I watch him ascend slowly but surely not even so much as a slip. He winds around the side of the post, opposite of my gaze. I can hear him if I close my eyes. Little tip taps of feet, leaves gently settling on the forest floor, the soft gurgle of the water pouring over the lip of the rocks under the bridge. I open my eyes and see him coming around my side, he slowly comes down the post this time, his ant feet holding him to the post as his large ant head moves slowly back and forth. His mandibles closed and his antenna still lightly touching the wood. He stops at a small patch of lichen and smells it with his antenna. He reaches down and pinches it a bit with his mandibles. They seem to go with with is head, not too big, not too small, just right. His large eyes are compound, made up of maybe 1000 lenses each, maybe 10,000, I don’t rightly know. His small ant nervous system working out the lichen in his jaws.
After a few moments satisfied by his exploration of the tiny organism he moves on. Swiftly, he steps over the lichen and on it,
“how rude!” “What did the lichen ever do to you!”
I cry out, chuckling to myself and at my own joke.
“I’m sorry Mr. Lichen, please excuse my friend here, he is a little clumsy." Chuckle, chuckle. "he’s all feet!”
I shout at the lichen tossing my hand in the air. The ant pauses at my sudden outburst. Offended by my implication of his dubious footedness.
"How dare ye trample on such a proper neighbor."
The ant continues his spiral pattern, searching the post for whatever ants search for. Doing ant things while I practice my old English I heard in school.
"Ye, doth, has offended my good neighbor”
At least I think that is how you use doth. But the ant doesn’t seem to care, he just keeps going around the post not even paying the slightest attention to me.
I reach in my bag and pull out my bologna and cheese sandwich, my favorite. The white bread is fluffy and clean. The bologna is still cold, the cheddar cheese is sharp and dry. I take my first bite, my teeth sinking into the bread and down the snip of hard cheese and spongy meat. The sweet flavor of the bread on my tongue brings me such joy. I look up at the clouds and trees as I chew with a smile on my face having totally forgotten about my bloody nose. The dried blood streaking across my finger and the top of my hand.
The ant now has made his way onto my railing, he is satisfied there is nothing of interest on the post. I wonder if he can sense my sandwich. I pop the top of my yoohoo, let the air in to make room and give it a good shake. My sandwich resting on my lap, little crumbles falling down between my legs and into the water. I take a big swig of yoohoo and grumble a little, grumble a sigh of satisfaction. Can’t forget the Cheetos! I think to myself, I dig in my little backpack, pushing aside my bag of Legos and notebooks to find them at the bottom. It’s okay, Cheetos are indestructible. I pull them out and rip open the bag sending a few of them flying, I chuckle to myself and eat them off the bridge and my lap. The fake cheese flavor stains my fingertips and hits my tongue with earnest effort.
"Mmmm”.
As I chow down the ant is exploring the railing, he wanders without a care in the world. Oblivious to the rest of the forest and of me. He loops around, wanders in a swirl pattern inch by inch covering every part of the railings surface. I tip my head sideways and lean so I can follow him upside down. His little ant antenna poking away ever so gently. He is getting pretty close as I finish my sandwich and get about halfway through my yoohoo. The Cheetos were the first to go.
I smear my finger along the railing leading the ant my way. He comes up and around the top of the railing and pauses at the cheese smear. He tastes it with his antenna, picks at it with his mandible and mouth parts. Following the scent, he makes his way towards me. Now an arm’s length as I sip my chocolate drink. I watch him now, he makes his way determined to find the source. Half an arm length now, I wipe my thumb on the railing in front of me and spill the last of the crumbs in a little pile before me. About 6 inches till the prize now.
He finds the pile, his little ant movement now more deliberate, more exploratory. He chews on a crumb and crawls all around, finding the edge of the pile and returning to it. He’s done it! The promised Land. The treasure, the gib kahuna. The mother load. I lower my head so we are eye to eye and he is as close as he can be without being out of focus. I reach for him with cheese-stained fingers. He’s unaware of my presence until I’ve pinched him between my thumb and the tip of my index finger. His hard body is delicate between my skin. His cheese covered fate now sealed. I pinch as hard as I can, feeling his little body crunch and fail under my immense fingertips. After a few seconds, I put him back on the rail. He wiggles just a bit as his broken legs begin to go silent. His body curls up in a ball and he goes frozen. Cheese dust covers his body as he lay dead, squished like an ant.
The end
