At Tyler State Park in North Texas on the first overnight on our northward trek.
…
Ants and Bee
I was sitting in a folding camp chair. On the ground in the dappled sun nearby, there was a flash of some sort. A fly or maybe a solitary bee was flopping in the dirt. Wait… that wasn’t it — the flopping bee was in a struggle with (I could barely see it from this distance) an ant. No… two ants. Make that three. Was the number of ants growing? Were others joining the melee?
To answer this pressing question, I continued to sit in that folding chair and watched a fourth ant wandering nearby the others. It seemed to be heading toward them, but then it passed the insectoidal struggle — missed it by that much. So no. Ants were not joining forces. But wait… the passer-by ant stopped, turned, and headed back. It missed the brawl again. Then stopped, turned back and forth in several directions, and headed directly into the fray.
So yes, the ant kingdom was indeed descending upon that hapless bee, whose flailing and flashing was by now slowing. The ants were getting the upper hand, and I couldn’t stay to watch the rest.
I stood up and walked away
Summer Breeze
Some time later, I somehow found myself in that folding camp chair again — viewing the land, enjoying the summer breeze. (This camp chair thing certain is a thing.)
A hummingbird was buzzing in the canopy of Oaks and alighted on a dead branch. It swiped its beak on its perch, first one way then the other. And then it came to attention. At guard, scanning the air in the distance. On guard for rivals.
Suddenly it swopped down from its perch, flying across the campsite to inspect a red bulb in the camp lights strung between two trees. It inspected the light closely, and then finding no nectar moved on to the next red bulbs down the line. Again finding no nectar and having exhausted the possibilities (as our string of lights is mercifully short), the hummingbird flew onto a nearby perch.
And after a few moments, it flew off into the forest.