“Inside, now!” Owen shouted. Mary grabbed Pip’s basket while Owen sprayed a barrier across the doorway. The ants stopped at the line, twisting over one another as more poured from beneath the paving stones. From the kitchen window, Mary watched the mass spread across the patio. “There seem to be too many!” she exclaimed. Owen answered without looking up. “Yes, possibly hundreds of thousands.”
He telephoned the environmental office and warned them about an invasive colony. While they waited, he showed Mary photographs of imported fire ants. They could damage wildlife, attack pets, and spread. “But winters here should kill a colony this large,” he said. Mary remembered something odd. Snow had melted beneath the apple tree, even when the garden stayed white.
Once the ants settled, Owen returned outside in protective clothing. He pushed a thermal probe into the ground near the mound. The reading climbed as the probe went deeper. He tested beside the cottage and found the same pattern. Mary followed from the doorway. “Could the nest make that much heat?” she called. “No, that would be pretty unusual,” Owen replied. He stared at the numbers, then at the blue-streaked soil. Something beneath the garden had been keeping the colony warm for years.