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An ant-lion, dark and mean, crawls toward me without a hint of fear.

He is not searching for anything, he is traveling, a destination clearly in mind. But as I shift so that he will not crawl on me, he senses an abrupt and disturbing change in his world. His path becomes erratic, as he searches for a place to hide from whatever he feels is threatening him.

With agility, he escapes the small piece of paper with which I attempt to scoop him up. However, he takes solace along the wall of a nearby remote control. After a second, he crawls on it. I pick it up, and moments later, transplant him outside.

I watch him for a moment until he disappears in the grass and is gone.

Freedom of Sorts
April 15, 1999
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