Was It Termites?

Several years ago, we bit the money bullet and built a “folly,” a small outdoor, porch-like structure with four walls, screened windows, and a roof. The entrance to our folly, because of the slope in our backyard, must be reached via a wooden ramp.

Last fall, a man working in our yard knocked at our back door. He pointed to two splintery ramp boards. “Someone’s gonna fall through and break a leg,” he said, ominously. “You better have those boards replaced.”

Grateful that the man had not himself fallen through, we called a workman to replace the two boards. However, the workman advised replacing all the other wooden ramp boards because they, too, felt weak and dangerous. I had visions of unsuspecting rampees falling through, breaking crucial body parts, and holding us responsible for their misfortune. I had two related fears: would we cause innocent ramp users to need leg casts, and would we get sued for negligence?

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The two board replacements were done when it was almost winter—the season in which we don’t use our unheated folly; therefore, we decided the other ramp board work could wait until folly time in the spring.

But a visit from relatives during an unusually balmy winter Sunday found us cavalierly partying in our outdoor folly. Chubby relatives walked up and down the ramp, mentioning that they felt some “weak, shaky boards” underfoot. So, a few days after the fete, we called the repairman to come back to replace all the other old ramp boards.

Here comes the fun part: When he removed the rest of the old boards, he found that the boards were weak and buckling because of the ramp’s deteriorating supporting substructure below. He advised calling our pest control company because it looked like we were providing life-sustaining sustenance to termites that were consuming the ramp’s underlying wooden support.

In general, with few exceptions and ample bug spray, we maintain a neutral policy toward insects, and, anyway, regular termite inspection is covered in our pest control contract. So how could termites have escaped our pest controller’s detection? We demanded that a termite expert come to witness the company’s supposed dereliction of duty.

A manager came, witnessed, and declared, “You don’t have termites. You have carpenter ants eating the boards that support the ramp.” I, previously a staunch admirer of ant diligence and hierarchical sophistication, instantly became an ant hater. The manager explained that the ground under the ramp structure would have to be covered with cement, so that no carpenter ants could ever again get from their underground home to surface and dine on the wooden ramp supports. After the cementing, the whole ramp substructure needed to be rebuilt, followed by rebuilding the ramp. This required two more workman visits.

When the workman finished, upon receiving our hefty check for cement, wood, and four visits, he pointedly advised, “If you want the best solution, you should build a solid, all-cement ramp.” Here’s an aesthetic question: Would you like a massive polyhedron ramp of cement dominating your backyard? Besides, cement ain’t cheap. We stuck with wood.

That very evening, I saw a program on PBS claiming that carpenter ants are a favorite food of woodpeckers. Unfortunately, I discovered that you can’t buy hungry woodpeckers on Amazon.

Our ramp is now open for business. The ground under the ramp’s been fully cemented, and a new substructure and ramp have been built.

Many neighbors have carpenter bees, but I learned that no one in our area has carpenter ants masticating on their property; our ramp was the only carpenter ant dining facility in the neighborhood. We consulted sagacious rabbis who were doubtful whether a specific piece of land could be cursed, and, if so, whether the curse could be wood-eating ants. With no definite rabbinical directive, we prayed that the malevolent ants would relocate to somewhere where there are lots of ravenous woodpeckers.

Last week, our pest control guy checked our property and noted that we’d rebuilt the ramp. I couldn’t help asking whether he believed a specific piece of property could be carpenter ant cursed. “Dunno,” he answered. “But you better keep your eye on your wooden fence.”