[anonymous]

Originally Posted by David Bailey

I would still like to know exactly what the communication with insects consisted of!

David

I didn't hear the podcast but I have read about animal communication with insects. In the book "Kinship With All Life" by J. Allen Boone the author describes how he could control a fly buzzing around the house and how he was able to get ants to leave his kitchen without having to use insecticide.

I
began silently talking across to Freddie [the fly] as a fellow being,
just as I had learned to do with Strongheart. I would ask
the little fellow in my hand a question, and then give
careful heed to all freshly arriving mental impressions,
the kind of impressions or sudden intuitive knowings I
had been learning to receive from animals, birds, snakes,
insects and various other kinds of wisdom-sharing kins-
folk.
Unexpectedly, every question that I sent across to
Freddie was followed, through the medium of these re-
turning impressions, by a silent counterquestion. I asked
Freddie what he was supposed to be doing in my world;


back almost instantly came a demand to know what I
really was supposed to be doing in his world. I asked him
why it was that flies treated us humans so badly; right
back came the question: why had we humans always
treated flies so badly. Then my inner ear suddenly caught
this: the important point to consider was not so much
what either of us was doing in the other’s world, but


what each of us was doing as a contributing factor in a
universe belonging to the Creator of it all.

Setting up an invisible bridge for two-way thought
traffic between oneself and a single animal is relatively
easy when one is ready for such an experience and goes
about it in the right way. But establishing such an inter-
communicating system with hundreds of ants all over the
house was something entirely different. I decided that
the only way it could be done was to turn myself into a
kind of broadcasting station and talk to all of the ants at
the same time. This I procecded to do.
“Listen, ants!” I said. “We seem to be living in a topsy-
turvy world. At the moment I am not entirely sure
whether you or I really belong in this house. But on one


point I am very clear: your wants have ruined a perfectly
good dinner for me. I had to go to considerable effort
and expense, and all alone, too, in order to get that food
for my dinner tonight. I have to eat to live just as much
as you fellows do. Then without any kind of a ‘May we?’
you come sneaking in here and take my dinner away
from me. That is neither right nor fair from any angle of
approach, especially in these difficult days when we all
ought to be trying to help one another.”
I paused for observation purposes. The broadcast did
not seem to be having the least effect on them. More ants
were coming in under the back door; more were appear-
ing on the walls and ceilings; and more appeared to be
working on the food. It was discouraging; nevertheless I
kept on.
“You ants may not be aware of it,” I said, “but I am in
a position to wipe most of you out of existence within
the next few minutes with this poison and this broom.
But that doesn’t seem to be the right answer. We humans
have been killing one another off in matters of this kind
for centuries and we are worse off today than we were
~vhen it started.”
Then remembering how every living thing likes to be
appreciated I began sending all the complimentary
things I could think of in their direction. I told them how
much I admired their keen intelligence . . . their zest
for living . . . their complete dedication to whatever
they happened to be doing at the moment . . . their har-
monious action in a common purpose . . . their ability
to work together without misunderstandings or the need
to be constantly told what to do.


I paused to take another look through the magnifying
glass. The situation seemed to be worse than ever. I de-
cided to bring the broadcast to a close.
“That’s all I have to say to you ants,” I said. “I have
honestly done my best in this situation. The rest is up to
you fello~vs. I am speaking to you as a gentleman to a
gentleman.”
I went into the living room and sat down in a chair.
I felt dejected. Also I began to wonder if I were not
mentally unhinged. Things did seem to be moving in that
direction. I suddenly remembered that an old friend, who

happens to be an authority on mental disorders, had told
me a few weeks before that the line between sanity and
insanity is often difficult to establish and many of us
cross it daily in the things we think and say and do. Had
I crossed the line in my broadcast to the ants? Was it
sane to try to set up a gentleman’s agreement with them?
I took my confusion to a comedy theater and tried to for-
get the entire experience.
Returning home shortly after midnight, I went out on
the back porch to see what was happening. There was
not an ant in sight! Not one! The icebox door ~vas still
wide open with the inviting food inside, and there was
some food on the near-by table, but not an ant in sight.
I went over practically every inch of floor, wall and ceil-
ing space in the house with a flashlight, hut not one ant
could I find. Those little fellows had actually kept their
part in the gentleman’s agreement.
This happened several years ago. Since then I have
never been bothered by ants in any manner, at home or
abroad.