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.
To read the story, click here.
