Moving Mountains

Last night as I went down to get my laundry from the laundry
room, I noticed a dead bug lying in the middle of the floor of
the entryway to my apartment building. It was a plump brown dead
bug, maybe five-eighths of an inch long and a quarter-inch thick,
and it was surrounded by maybe a dozen tiny black ants. I didn't
give this spectacle much attention. It seemed vaguely disgusting,
so I ignored it.

Imagine my amazement when I returned from the laundry room to
find that the ants had already moved the dead bug about a foot
and a half toward the door. If you are ants, that is a heavy
weight and a long distance. I sat down on the step leading to the
upstairs apartment, and watched as the ants hurried about their
task. Very soon they had reached the door sill. It was almost an
inch tall. They had to maneuver the dead bug this way and that in
order to get it to the top of the sill, but shortly they
accomplished this.

I had closed the door behind me when I came in, but I opened it
again.