Seagu(ll)s but I am an ant

Making my way through the day was an easy task. I work with my bro’s Chad and Smalls to pick up some food for the colony. As a harvester ant my job is to provide the colony with grass, to grow the farm underground. The intricate tunnels were built by my ancestors through generations and have survived rainfall, raids from neighbors, and worst of all, feet. We carry our blades downstairs and drop them off where the farmers will spit on them and cultivate our delicacy, fungi. Afterwards I make my way up to the surface where I make small talk with the ladies, only to find a menacing shadow above us. A scourge of the coastal skies, a seagull. I sound the alarms and we all rush to the surface to defend our home. He’s circling above us, mocking us as if we were some insects beneath his almighty wings. Menacingly, he lands several feet away, feeding on some worms. It’s probably a distraction for us to lower our guard. We stay strong as he feasts and eventually finishes. He looks above our heads at the boardwalk, and makes his way over. We all see the path he’s taking, and brace for impact. His crooked thin feet slam upon our brethren, killing tens of ants instantly. Another step lays on the mound, collapsing the home we made into dirt piles. Devastated, we all realized our home was gone in an instant, and count our losses. One thousand? Two thousand? The losses keep racking as we attack the home invader, only to be brushed off like, well ants. After he leaves, we finally realize the extent of our situation. We are the bottom of the food chain, a pawn in life’s game.