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136
My Studio Neighbors
·
W. Hamilton Gibson
90
I
have
pictured
my
picnic,
and
the
question
naturally
arises,
what
was
it
all
about--what
the
occasion
for
this
celebration?
There
was
certainly
no
distinct
visible
cause
for
the
social
gathering
upon
this
particular
bramble-bush.
There
were
a
number
of
other
bramble-bushes
in
the
near
neighborhood
which,
it
would
seem,
should
possess
equal
attractions,
but
which
were
ignored.
In
what
respect
did
the
one
selected
differ
from
the
others?
This
bramble
had
become
the
scene
of
my
carnival
simply
because
it
chanced
to
be
directly
beneath
an
overhanging
branch
of
pine
some
twenty
feet
above.
Here
dwelt
mine
host
who
had
issued
the
invitations
and
spread
the
feast,
the
limb
for
about
a
foot
space
being
surrounded
by
a
colony
of
aphides,
or
plant-lice,
from
whose
distilling
pipes
the
rain
of
sweet
honey-dew
had
fallen
ceaselessly
upon
the
leaves
below.
The
flies,
butterflies,
and
ants
had
been
attracted,
as
always,
by
its
sweets;
the
preoccupied
convivial
flies,
in
turn,
were
a
tempting
bait
for
the
wasps
and
hornets,
and
my
dragon-fly
and
mock
bumblebee
found
a
similar
attraction
in
the
neighborhood.
An
examination
of
the
trunk
of
the
pine
showed
the
inevitable
double
procession
of
ants,
both
up
and
down
the
tree,
with
the
habitual
interchange
of
comment;
and
could
we
but
have
obtained
a
closer
glimpse
of
the
pine
branch
above,
we
might
certainly
have
observed
the
queer
spectacle
of
the
small
army
of
ants
interspersed
everywhere
among
the
swarm
of
aphides.
Not
in
antagonism;
indeed,
quite
the
reverse;
herders,
in
truth,
jealously
guarding
their
feeding
flock,
creeping
among
them
with
careful
tread,
caressing
them
with
their
antennae
while
they
sipped
at
the
honeyed
pipes
everywhere
upraised
in
most
expressive
and
harmonious
welcome.
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