Fred watched from the edge of the forest as the shiny car kicked up gravel on Banner Road. Yep. It was that one cop. Wonder why he drove that car? Looked like he should drive a black sedan of some sort. Or maybe white. White would be good. Bet he was showing off for Mrs. Parker. Bet that was it all right! Well, that was no never mind to him. He had more important things to do right now.
He glanced at the sun. Must be about 3:00 o’clock in the afternoon. They ought to be thinking about cooking before long and he ought to be thinking about maybe getting cleaned up, but first he had something to do. He felt the vial in his shirt pocket and turned back towards his cabin. He better hurry!
At the cabin he knelt by a solitary scrub evergreen. He had pruned it so the branches did not touch the ground and the sun could reach the soft dirt for several hours a day. He stared intently at the funnel shaped depressions in the dirt. Which one today?
He had a grid laid out in his head and numbers for the depressions, but they kept changing positions! Finally he picked one as the recipient for the day. Pulling the vial from his pocket he held it near his face and stared at the big red ant inside. It was not moving much. Oh, it needed air!
Fred quickly pulled the stopper out. The ant began to kick. That was just in the nick of time! Better drill a hole in the cork or the next one might not make it at all. He smiled at the ant as he tipped the vial down and the ant slid down the tube and landed gently in the sandy dirt. Fred had worked very hard to make the area just right. It had to be sandy and soft. If it was not the larvae buried in the sand could not build it’s trap. He had worked very hard to make this the perfect world. Antlion’s normally did not live up here on the mountain. Or so he thought. He had never seen them before and this was the only ones he knew about. He could be wrong, but he did not think so.
He had caught three of the adult damselflies and put them in an aquarium with sandy soil and a little greenery and a grow light all set up right in his kitchen. He had put up a little card so he would not forget what he had learned at the library.
Common name: Antlion
Scientific name: Myrmeleon sp.
Order: Neuroptera
Life cycle: Complete metamorphosis. Adults do not fly much but lay eggs in the sand. Eggs hatch and the larva dig funnel shaped pits in the sand and hide in the bottom. Ant or other small things fall in the pit and can not get out.
He had easily recognized the mother antlion when he seen her. She looked very much like a dragonfly, but much smaller and rather drab with four wings with veins in them. He was not sure whether the mother was called a damselfly or an owl fly. Really did not matter. He knew he was going to get something when he saw her with her tail in the sand in the aquarium and several weeks later he began to see the funnel shaped traps immerge. They were fascinating to watch, but for some reason when the ant was trapped and the antlion struck, it made him very sad, as now.
He watched the ant struggle to get away and slide back down the steep sides into the ferocious jaws to the predator. As he watched the ant slowly stop struggling and curl into a fetal position he realized that time had passed and it was going to be supper time pretty quick. He hurried back to the clearing and sure enough, they were making preparations to make more preparations.
He hurried to the cabin and through the door to his small cot. He gathered a pair of boxer shorts, a pair of socks, his newest Levi’s, a white tee shirt with a pocket and his long sleeved blue checkered shirt he had ordered last month from LL Bean. These he laid on the chair outside the door to his shower room. He had built this little room himself after dad died. It held a corner shower, a small sink and of course, a commode. He had bought a taller one because he was a tall man and did not like crouching when he did his business.
As he stripped and dropped his clothes on the floor he remembered how when he first built this he did not have a water heater. Mountain water was very cold and he very soon realized that a water heater was a must. As he lathered his chest he also made a mental note to buy more soap. He had found that bag of Irish Spring soap laying by the road last winter. Whole bag not even touched so he had brought it home. He kind of liked the smell of it. Maybe he would buy some more.
He wondered what kind of soap Meg used. He could call her Meg when he was here naked in the shower and no one else was around. When he was at her house he had to be respectful and call her Mrs. Parker. He bet she was really soft. He could almost tell that by looking at her. Course she was in the sun a lot of times, so she wasn’t the creamy skin like his momma.
Or like momma used to have. And she wore tennis shoes mostly, not like the patent leather ones his momma had worn. His momma had been perfect. His momma had been like an angel. Probably why he had not messed with women. None could compare to his momma. Still there had been that woman in Kansas that time. Not a woman really, more of a girl. Not a little girl. She was just out of school and working in that café where he ate. He let himself think back in time for just a moment. He tried to remember how that woman had felt. Oh, yes! She had been so soft and warm. And she smelled good and her hands pulled him toward her. And her lips! Her eyes! He could almost see her. He could alost feel her and almost see her as he suddenly turned the hot water off and felt the jolt of ice cold mountain water bring him back to reality. And with the memory he lost what could have been a hard on.
But Fred Himes, Jr. would never allow that to develop. Not while he had control of his mind. A woman would never be a part of his life. And with that came a very great sadness.
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