Sunrise on the grassland

In the early morning bush, a young boy encountered the following scenario.

He ran closer, then stood still, an inexplicable new fear bringing him to a halt. The grass around him was vibrant and whispering. He looked around wildly, then looked down. The ground was black with ants, big and strong, and they ignored him, hurrying toward something struggling, as if bright, shiny black water was flowing through the grass.

After that, he held his breath, pity and fear seized him, only to see a beast fall to the ground and stop screaming. At that moment, all he heard was a bird singing and the rustling of ants in a hurry.

He looked up at the black thing that was writhing and sometimes twitching. It was quieter than it had been a moment before. From the slight writhing mass could still be faintly seen in the shape of a small animal.

It occurred to him that he could shoot it and put it out of its misery. So he raised the gun and then lowered it again. The deer could no longer feel anything, its struggle is a mechanical reflex of nerves. But what made him put down the gun was not this, but a sense of anger pain and resistance that gradually swelled in his mind: if I had not come, it would have died like this, why should I interfere with it? Things like this are everywhere in the bush, happening all the time. What is alive dies in extreme pain, this is the evolution of life. I can't stop it, and I can't stop it. There was nothing I could do. He was glad that the deer was unconscious and no longer in pain, so he didn't have to make up his mind to kill it. At that moment, the ants at his feet were returning with pink pieces of flesh in their mouths. His nose smelled the sour smell of fresh venison. He tried desperately to control the futile jerking of his empty stomach, then reminded himself: these ants need to eat, too!

The thing had gotten smaller. Now it looked indistinguishable. He did not know how much time had passed, and then saw the dark shadow fade, and a little white emerged from it, glistening in the sunlight. Yes, the sun had just risen, and it shone on the rocks. Hey, the whole thing couldn't have taken more than a few minutes.

He stepped forward, stepping on a few ants, brushing them off his clothes until he stood in front of the skeleton. It had been cleaned of flesh. Except for the pink pieces of flesh on the white bone, as if it had been lying there for years. Around the bones, ants held the flesh in their mouths, thinning out.

The boy looked toward them - big, black, ugly ants. A few of them stood still and were staring at him with shiny little eyes. "Get out!" He said coldly to the ants, "I don't like you! No matter what, I don't like you. Get lost!" With that, he imagined the ants turning away.

He bent down by those bones and touched the holes in the skull: that's where the eyes were, and he thought of the deer's watery black eyes and found it all unbelievable.

That morning, perhaps an hour ago this little creature had walked proudly and freely through the undergrowth, feeling the coolness on his skin, feeling as excited as he himself felt. He stepped proudly over the earth, flicking his pretty white tail and sniffing the cold morning air. He walks like kings and rulers, strolling freely through this scrub. Every blade of grass grew for it, and the sparkling pure water of the river was for it to drink.

But then - what happened? Who would have thought that such an arrow-footed animal would be trapped by a swarm of ants?