It is not every kind of ant, however,
that can sting; a great many can only bite with their little hard horny
jaws, and then eject a drop of formic poison afterwards into the hole
caused by the bite. The distinction is a delicate physiological one, not
much appreciated by the victims of either mode of attack. The perfect
females can also sting, but not, of course, the males, who are poor,
wretched, useless creatures, only good as husbands for the community,
and dying off as soon as they have performed their part in the
world--another beautiful provision, which saves the workers the trouble
of killing them off, as bees do with drones after the marriage flight of
the queen bee.
The blind driver-ants of West Africa are among the very few species
that render any service to man, and that, of course, only incidentally.
Unlike most other members of their class, the driver-ants have no
settled place of residence; they are vagabonds and wanderers upon the
face of the earth, formican tramps, blind beggars, who lead a gipsy
existence, and keep perpetually upon the move, smelling their way
cautiously from one camping-place to another. They march by night, or on
cloudy days, like wise tropical strategists, and never expose themselves
to the heat of the day in broad sunshine, as though they were no better
than the mere numbered British Tommy Atkins at Coomassie or in the
Soudan. They move in vast armies across country, driving everything
before them as they go; for they belong to the stinging division, and
are very voracious in their personal habits.
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