I mowed a grass in a garden and I have incidentally touched a red ant hill. I watch how these poor fellows rush, like mad, shout, don't understand that to what.
"Here I swine.", - I think. "They built not one day all this".
I have walked on a garden, I have found several cobble-stones, I have fenced with them an ant hill. Then I have lifted some board under which there lived red ants (other clan) too and I have given to the victims of my insensibility. At those ants the whole stub mouldering nearby, and at mine in general anything.
I have decided that it I haven't washed away guilt yet, and I have brought to them sugar. Now periodically I go, I come to see. Restoration of an ant hill is well under way, ants are happy, wave to me short moustaches at a meeting.
Once one ungrateful ant has bitten me in skin under a knee. I have become angry and have arranged them a small penalty. That it was untempting to others. Since then I am not bitten, we live in perfect harmony.
I it to what all: people, you love brothers of smaller ours, they... I joke. Just in the village it is absolutely boring in the summer.