Ginger was sitting on the back steps eating a piece of toast when she noticed an ant struggling with something enormous. At least, it was enormous for an ant. It was a crumb of bread, nearly three times the little creature's size, and the ant was determined to carry it across the patio.

Ginger leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees. The ant pushed the crumb, stopped, walked around it, and tried pulling it instead. The crumb moved about an inch before tipping over and landing directly on top of him. For a moment, nothing happened. Then two tiny legs appeared beneath the bread, followed by the rest of the ant.

"Well, that didn't go very well," Ginger observed.

The ant apparently agreed, because he spent several seconds cleaning his antennae before trying again. This time, he managed to drag the crumb across a crack in the concrete, only to discover a dried leaf blocking his path. He pushed against the leaf, climbed over it, and returned to his crumb. Then he tried pushing the crumb over the leaf, which was not nearly as successful.

Ginger watched with growing interest. She had seen ants carrying things before, but she had never paid much attention to how they managed it. This particular ant seemed to have chosen the most difficult piece of bread in the entire world.

"Why don't you just get a smaller one?" she suggested.

The ant ignored her.

He tugged the crumb sideways, pushed it backward, and finally managed to work it around the leaf. Ginger gave a little cheer. Unfortunately, the crumb immediately rolled into another crack, where it became firmly wedged.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!"

Ginger set her toast aside and got down on her hands and knees. She considered helping him, but she was curious to see what he would do next. The ant disappeared into the crack, emerged on the other side, and pulled. Nothing happened. He returned to the first side and pushed. Still nothing. Then he climbed onto the crumb, walked around in a little circle, and disappeared underneath it.

A moment later, the crumb moved.

Ginger gasped. "You did it!"

The ant dragged his prize out of the crack and continued across the patio. By now, Ginger had become quite invested in his journey. She crawled alongside him, careful not to get too close, and watched as he negotiated a pebble, a curled piece of bark, and a small hill of dirt. Each obstacle required a different approach, and the ant seemed willing to try every possible direction except the one that would take him back where he started.

Then he reached the edge of the patio.

Below him was a drop of several inches into the flower bed. Ginger thought he might abandon the crumb at last, but the ant began searching along the edge until he found a narrow place where dirt had collected against the concrete. He pulled the crumb toward it, struggled for several minutes, and finally managed to slide it down the little slope.

The crumb landed at the bottom.

So did the ant.

Ginger winced. "That looked uncomfortable."

But the little creature was already moving again. He seized his bread and headed toward a small opening in the soil beneath a clump of grass. Ginger followed, lowering herself onto her stomach to watch. The ant dragged the crumb to the entrance and tried to pull it inside.

It wouldn't fit.

Ginger stared. After everything he had been through, the crumb was too big for the hole.

The ant pushed. He pulled. He turned the bread sideways, then upside down, then sideways again. Nothing worked. Ginger could hardly bear to watch. She imagined how terrible it would be to carry an enormous sandwich all the way home, only to discover it wouldn't fit through the front door.

Then another ant appeared.

It approached the crumb, touched antennae with the first ant, and began tugging at the opposite end. Soon a third ant arrived, followed by a fourth. Ginger watched as the little group surrounded the bread, pulling and pushing in different directions. For a moment, they seemed to be accomplishing absolutely nothing.

Then a piece broke off.

One ant carried it into the hole. Another broke away a second piece, and soon the enormous crumb had become several smaller crumbs, each disappearing underground.

Ginger sat back on her heels. She had expected the ant to give up, or perhaps find another piece of bread. Instead, he had carried his enormous prize across the patio, down into the flower bed, and all the way home, only to have his friends help him take it apart.

She looked at the tiny entrance. The original ant was still outside, struggling with the last piece. It was smaller than the others, but he seemed determined to carry it himself. Ginger watched as he dragged it toward the opening, paused to adjust his grip, and finally disappeared into the earth.

"Well done," she said.

She returned to the steps and picked up her toast. There was only a little left, and she noticed several crumbs scattered beside her. She brushed them together with one finger, wondering how long it would take the ants to discover them.

It wasn't long.

Within minutes, a tiny procession appeared from the flower bed. Ants hurried across the patio, examined the crumbs, and began carrying them away. Ginger recognized absolutely none of them, but she liked to imagine that her determined little friend was among them.

Then she noticed something that made her laugh.

One ant had found a crumb considerably larger than all the others. He pushed it, turned it around, and attempted to drag it backward. The crumb tipped over and landed directly on top of him.

Two tiny legs appeared beneath the bread.

Ginger shook her head.

"Here we go again."