Ants That Grew Wings

This evening the air is heavy and close. It feels thick and damp, as if a big rain is on the way. Then, just as the lamp in the house is switched on, something strange happens. From somewhere, a swarm of tiny creatures flies in and flutters around the light bulb. Each one has a pair of thin, glittering wings. They circle round and round the glow, bump softly against the wall, then rise again.

Look closely. They are ants. Ants with wings, ants that can fly. It is a curious sight. On ordinary days, ants only crawl along the ground, in long lines across the floor, the yard and the foot of a tree. Yet for just a few days each year, right when rain is about to fall, ants with wings come flying out and circle the lamps like this.

Watching the winged ants circle the lamp, someone is bound to ask why. The Vietnamese have an old story about it. The elders have passed it down from one generation to the next.

Long, long ago, when Heaven first made all living things, ants had no wings at all. An ant had only six tiny legs, and it spent its days crawling on the ground. But ants lived together in a big, cheerful crowd. A whole colony shared one warm nest deep under the earth. One ant went looking for grains of rice, another hauled a crumb of cake, another carried a leaf on its back. They followed one another in a line, busy all day long. Wherever ants went, they went together. Whatever ants did, they did together. In the colony, no ant was ever left on its own.

In that colony lived a little ant. He was hardworking and good, and he loved the whole colony. But he was also curious, and he often looked up at the sky.

One morning, the little ant was carrying a grain of cooked rice home to the nest when he heard a buzzing. He looked up. On a clump of flowers just in front of him, a few bees were flying. Their wings whirred fast, clear and shining in the sun. A bee would land on one flower, then, zoom, off it went to another, as easily as play.

The little ant stood still and stared. Oh, how wonderful it would be to fly. High up there, what would he see? He would see the treetops and the clouds. He would see the whole wide field, which he had never seen whole from the ground.

From that day on, a wish began to glow in the little ant's heart. He wished he too had a pair of wings, so he could fly up into the sky just once, to his heart's content. He was not angry with the bees, and he envied no one. He simply wished, as innocently as a child wishing for a kite.

The little ant wished quietly to himself, day after day. And strangely enough, that gentle wish floated softly upward, higher and higher, until it reached the sky above.

Up in the sky, Heaven heard the wish of the little ant, and smiled. He felt tender toward this hardworking ant who loved to dream. So Heaven gave a small nod.

At that very moment, down on the ground, the little ant felt a tingling, tickling feeling on his back. He turned to look. Oh, two thin wings were slowly growing out of his back. They grew bigger and bigger, clear and shimmering, just like the wings of a bee. Heaven had truly given him wings.

But Heaven also whispered softly on the wind that these wings would stay with him for only a few days. He should fly as much as he liked and enjoy looking at the sky and the earth. Then he must remember the way home to his colony.

The little ant was overjoyed. He gave his new wings a gentle flutter. Then, lightly, his tiny body lifted off the ground. He could fly.

Oh, what fun it was to fly. He rose above the blades of grass, above the flower bushes, higher and higher still. A cool breeze slipped through his wings. Down below, the ant nest shrank to a tiny dot. The field spread out lush and green. The stream glittered like a silver thread, and white clouds drifted right beside him. The little ant flew round and round, his heart as happy as on a festival day. Everything he had ever dreamed of, he could now see with his own eyes.

He flew and played for several days in a row, until his eyes had seen their fill.

But after flying so long alone high in the sky, the little ant began to feel homesick. He missed the warm nest under the earth. He missed his friends marching in a line to fetch food. He missed the times when the whole colony gathered to carry one big grain of unhusked rice together, chattering as they went. The sky was beautiful and wide, but he was all alone up there, with no one to share his joy.

Flying up into the sky once had been wonderful. But the place he loved most, the place he belonged, was still that little colony of ants down on the ground. There he had friends, warmth, and a home.

So the little ant gently tilted his wings. Just then, the first rain of the season began to drizzle down. He circled one last time around the warm glow of light and took one more look at the sky and the earth. Then he swooped down and flew toward the nest. When he arrived, the whole colony rushed out to welcome him. Happily, the little ant crawled into the nest. He told his friends all about the sky, the clouds, and the fields seen from high above. He had flown, and now he was home again. In his heart, there was nothing left to wish for.

From then on, as people told it in the old days, every year, on the few days before the rain, some ants grow thin wings. They fly out of the nest, circle around the lamps and gaze at the sky to their heart's content, just like the little ant long ago. And in this telling, when they have flown and played enough, they remember the way home to their colony.

So this evening, the winged ants fluttering around the light bulb are only little ants having their turn to fly, taking their one look at the sky for the year. In this telling, when they tire of flying, they find their way home, back to their own warm colony, just as the little ant once did.