I haven't photographed many ants. They're easy enough to find; I know of two active anthills within a minute's walk. But they never sit for a photo. They never rest. They're always running, milling about, disappearing down cracks. Busy, busy, busy.
That doesn't stop me from trying.
A very tiny (4mm) ant hitched a ride on some Japanese knotweed sprouts that I was bringing home for supper. I rescued her (I'm assuming she's not a drone) before she went down the drain, and put her aside to calm down (Hah! Dreamer!) in a plastic container. When I looked at her again, she was energetically grooming herself.
She ran each leg and the antennae through her jaws, she combed each leg with another, she scraped at her backside with the cleaned legs, and washed the legs again, as thorough as a cat. And like a grooming cat, she tied herself up in the most amazing knots.
At times, she would bend her waist at a right angle, with the final segment (the gaster) straight up in the air. A minute later, she would be scrunched into a ball, with no waist visible.
The ants' anatomy is always a source of wonderment to me. How is it that they carry all that big weight at the end, on such a tiny support beam? But then, they carry around leaves and twigs and wasps many times their size, holding them in their jaws. A balancing act; the big butt at one end, the large square head, with cargo, at the other. But that waist does look so fragile!
The ant is now wandering around a few maple flowers in a pill bottle. Day and night; does she never sleep? When it stops raining, I'll take her back to the knotweed patch.
This thing about looking insects in the eyes: it has consequences. You can't just think of them as "bugs" any more; can't just squash them. You have to be responsible. You have to be polite.