For things like this:

The rain began. Ten, twenty tentative drops on the windshield, then whoa: angry pounding sheets. All over town, a million ant colonies suffered their own Johnstown flood. Imagine if they were capable of putting up small historical markers. There would be billions of them. They’d be so numerous as to be unremarkable, even though they were made by ants. Little kids would collect them, but they’d get bored after a while and move on to Yu-gi-Oh. Nothing ants do really impresses us, in the end; it's amazing, but they have no idea what they're doing. They're the million monkeys who typed Shakespeare, right under our feet.