Ground Support

I dropped down the front steps and paced along the driveway until a flicker of motion stopped me cold. Right across a wide crack in the asphalt, a squad of tiny black ants was wrestling a striped sunflower seed shell. They had the hustle down, but a jagged chip of gravel was pinning their cargo against the ridge. I dropped into a firm crouch, wedged my thumb right under that stone, and flicked it clean out of the way. The shell lurched forward instantly, rolling smooth over the gap. Every solid crew deserves a good spotter, and these little guys didn't waste a second marching ahead.