The habitat with the highest ant diversity in Canada is not the Carolinian forest, nor the Sagebrush Desert, but a muggy room at the bottom of my basement steps. Rows of blue containers hold close to 7000 ant colonies and nearly every Canadian species. For some species, such as the Northern Vampire Ant, which drinks its young’s blood, I’ve established some of the only records of their captive breeding pattern.
It’s been five years since I started collecting and selling ants out of a brown shoebox in the corner of the living room – three queen ants in 15-cent floral picks, the only set up I could afford without an allowance. Now, after years of mistakes, failures, and more research than I could ever imagine, I earn a significant revenue by sharing my knowledge with hobbyists, zoos, universities and educators.
One night in fall 2020, a friend asked what I would do with Canada Ant Colony after I graduated from high school. Every time I thought about it over the following weeks, I couldn’t come up with an answer. I was afraid of thinking about who I might be without it. Sure, I had been successful so far, but what if that was the peak? What if I’m just a one-trick pony? I began to convince myself that Canada Ant Colony didn’t mean that much to me in the first place and that it was a “phase” I would need to forget in order to move forward.
As I contemplated giving up my business, I thought about the people I’d be leaving behind. One of the business’s most important features is the 500-member Canadian ant-keeper community I created and have managed on Facebook and Discord. On most nights (some ants only come out at night), I join #voice-chat with members hanging out in the forum. They jokingly call themselves Zeph’s (my username) Emotional-Support-Unit, since our conversations eased the fear and loneliness I felt during the first night expeditions.
I’m always surprised by how much I learn from these conversations. One night, I might listen to a Palliative caregiver talk about challenges in helping terminally ill children; on another, I might listen to an aerospace engineer describe why Boeing-737 Max crashes were so common. I’ve talked to storm chasers about hunting tornadoes and former drug addicts about their struggles to stay sober. Ants are only the starting point of our conversations; we get into debates about everything from video games, to relationships, to the death penalty.
I’ve learned that creating a great community starts with making people comfortable with being themselves. I learned that being open – “Hey, I saw your post about the visit to the vet. Do you need someone to listen?” – is as important to developing the community as the thrill of finding a Canadian population of Spider-Egg Ants.
Most importantly, my community reminds me that people – like ant colonies – are endlessly complex, and the strongest communities allow their members to express every part of that complexity. Recently, while looking into wholesaling nests and ant colonies into pet stores, I realized I needed nests which had higher margins and shorter manufacture times. Working with the members on #diy, a subcommunity where members post their creations and designs, we’ve created a nest which can be made at less than half the cost and in less than 10% of the time to stock into pet stores across the country.
Because of Canada Ant Colony, I’ve realized that I’m passionate about building innovative, diverse organizations. I’ve seen the way my community comes together to solve problems, and I believe that addressing many of the world’s most difficult challenges starts with building similarly strong communities. I want to explore the best ways to develop a strong organizational culture, investigate the psychology of deep interpersonal relationships, and understand how to ensure everyone in a community has a voice.