Today we decided to take matters into our own heavily gloved hands.
This is the meat prior to the first "incision." I think it's safe to say that the ants now reign over the entire plate. Overnight their armies stabbed westward into the final major territory--the game hen--and, not surprisingly, have started covering it with sand. This whole "sanding" process is really intriguing to me. They are literally terraforming their new world! Notice the "sand bridge" on the right side of the plate, linking the cat food to the earth below. Truly impressive ingenuity.
The ants are more numerous than ever before. However, all of the items are still mostly intact. We would soon find out why they were having such a hard time breaking ground.
Poised for the operation. Our surgical instruments will consist of borrowed dining hall silverware.
The Cornish game hen was surprisingly difficult to cut. Its skin had hardened into a thick, nearly-impenetrable exoskeleton. Yet another military interest in rotting meat.
As Stinkographer 1 pushed down on the chicken, a large quantity of the white, pus-looking goop oozed out from underneath.
It made a horrendous glurping noise as my compatriot pried it from the plate. While the top of the chicken has hardened into a formidable carapace, the bottom has decayed into a semi-liquid confection. The stench was indescribable. This was the closest I've come to throwing up since the beginning of this experiment.
We discovered why the ants were having so much trouble carting off the beef--it, too, had developed a protective outer coat. When we finally managed to cut it open, it actually looked similar to a burger grilled at too high a temperature--seared on the outside, pink on the inside. Perhaps now we can get some decent rotting.
The cat food had the same consistency that it did fresh out of the can. Other than some mild discoloration, it really hasn't changed all that much! Perhaps we should e-mail this page to people at Fancy Feast. Who knows, our experiment could be featured in their next commercial, boasting long shelf life!
If you look where the red arrow is pointing, you will notice a small white line on the moistened end of the pork chop. It is alive. We saw it wiggling around. My guess is it may have been there all along, because uncooked pork is known to harbor parasites. Who knows, we may yet see a proliferation of nasty crawly things...
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the giblet sack. It was surprisingly difficult to rupture.
Another suppressed gag reflex, at both texture and smell. I'm not sure what all those organs are, but there's a greenish-brown paste at the bottom that resembles gravy. At least in texture. As for the odor, it was quite comparable to the underbelly of the chicken. The only difference was that the chicken could be returned to its upright, less-smelly state. The giblet sack, on the other hand, was now wide open, and there was little to be done to reduce the vomit-inducing stench.
We had originally planned to slice through the bacon and the pork, but the stink emanating from the giblet sack was intolerable! Coughing and wheezing uncontrollably, we opted to vacate the area as quickly as possible.
Continue to Day 15