Field Notes of a (Very) Amateur Urban Forager
The first time I harvested a weaver ant nest I had ants in my pants. Literally. Let me assure you, that is not where you want them. Ever. Having now understood the urgency that the idiom expresses in a most visceral manner, I’ve compiled my field notes to break it down for you (presuming “you” are a fellow city dweller with no idea of how the heck one would collect biting ants to eat them), should you ever find yourself in need of this information.
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