I used to live in quite a peaceful area with lots of wildlife. I would often see deer behind my house and a huge array of funny-looking bugs under rocks. But some bugs are not funny. I am afraid of spiders and bees, as plenty of people are. I am also afraid of ants. Even the harmless ones scare me because small-minded creatures in general are unpredictable. I won‟t be talking about small creatures, though. No, my encounter is a bit more frightening than that. My whole family loved to rollerblade in Atlanta, Georgia. My brother and I would ride around our house and the cul-de-sac at the end of our driveway. All of our neighbors connected to the cul-de-sac had very steep driveways. There were small patches of grass and/or flowers lining the driveways in a circle that formed the cul-de-sac. I didn‟t like that grass. Heaps of fire ants would build their nests there and wander out in all directions looking for building materials. Though bites from those pesky ants were common, I never got used to them. But there was another „ant‟ lurking in the safety of the tall grass. We call him the Cow Killer. You may have heard of this large insect before. They are better known as the Velvet Ant, but they aren‟t really ants at all. Velvet Ants are just big, wingless wasps with a sting rumored painful enough to kill a cow (hence the name Cow Killer). My brother had told me of these bugs years ago, while we were in our living room. “Hey Jackson, you ever heard of a Cow Killer?” my brother had said. “No I haven‟t. Is it a machine?” I asked, hearing something similar to „calculator‟. “No, Cow Killers are deadly ants. They can kill any cow and maybe a human.” “What? What are you talking about? Ryan, what?” “Jeez, Jack, you always do this. There are some bad ants living close to our house outside. I‟m just sayin‟.” “Oh.” Why did he always have to do that? I don‟t see the fun in tormenting a 7-year old kid with stories of scary things that give you nightmares. Teenagers are weird. Then, of course, he offered to show me one from his collection. But he didn‟t wait for an answer. In just a couple seconds he had run to our garage to grab his box of dead, dried bugs and sprinted back to the beige leather couch I was resting on. He shoved the big, fuzzy ant-of-awasp in my face, and natural instincts kicked in. I was flying up the stairs before he‟d even been able to pull the plastic box back, and I was in my room. So my first experience with a Cow Killer was brief, and frightening.
It was a late Sunday afternoon, the sun just passing the edge of visibility on the horizon; comfortably warm weather, not very common in Atlanta. And I was excited. The sleek new blue rollerblades my parents had just bought were waiting for me to move. It was pretty difficult stay on my feet though. I never do a very good job with that anyway, especially if I get startled. I wasn‟t thinking about those big ants lurking around because they were quite rare, and I entered a small grassy area. I was stumbling around on the dirt trying to get some traction, but the surface was too rough. I had hit the ground already several times, but it wasn‟t too bad with the elbow and knee pads I wore when rollerblading. I got off the grass and slowly rolled onto a sidewalk lining part of the cul-de-sac, but my rollerblades spun me towards the grass again. Then, just a meter away, I saw a blur of red in front of me. I was hardly moving, but when I saw that bug, I my body and mind panicked. I was baffled by the fact that I would even see a live Cow Killer, but worse was I couldn‟t control myself. I felt my feet give, and I was suddenly getting a lot closer to that fluff of red and black fuzz that was a Cow Killer.
My face fell just a few centimeters away from the ants. What was I going to do? There’s no way I could get away from this thing! Then the ant halted. I did not. I believe I forgot to mention before how loud these ants can be. They emit a very audible squeal almost any time they‟re moving, and hearing it up close is terrifying. The wheels of my blades were everywhere at once as I launched myself upward and ran off the curb away from the ant faster than I‟d ever gone before. My muscles slowly relaxed and I found relief when I felt that the ant was no longer in my presence. Suddenly I was aware of my surroundings once again. I‟d gained control of myself (mentally) and had stopped running. It was a difficult task to run with wheels on your feet anyway. I slowed to a stop on the cul-de-sac and tried to pace my breathing. I decided to turn back around and look at the wasp. It had sparked my interest just a little bit. As I neared it the squealing did not stop. I craned my head over its body to see what it was doing, but it wasn‟t moving. I got just a little closer. There were small lines of black fuzz around its sides, a symmetrical red hourglass pattern, and long, black, hair-width stinger at least 4 millimeters long. Suddenly, its tiny legs whirred into motion and I once again found myself skittering away with panic on my mind. But still I thanked the ant for not killing me. I rolled off, slowly making my way out of the ant‟s territory. All the detail was still fresh on my mind soon after. My encounter was traumatizing because I was just a little, inexperienced kid, and I gained a phobia of those ants from that point on. Though, it did help me learn more about the complicated world I live in.
I was baffled by the fact that I would even see a live Cow Killer, but worse was I couldn’t control myself. I felt my feet give, and I was suddenly getting a lot closer to that fluff of red and black fuzz that was a Cow Killer.
About the Author Jackson Snowden’s books are based on true stories ranging from his childhood to present day. They have been published in over 20 different languages. The author lives in Warsaw, Poland, an area he describes in some of his earlier work. More information on Jackson Snowden can be found at: www.thegreatestauthorofalltime.com/info