My sister has had ant poison set out in the bathroom floor for a while now. It's had a consistent following of ants, taking their fill of death to their hearts' content.
They probably consider the little teaspoons of poison a miracle. A fountain of life, freely bestowed by an unseen, uncomprehended, divine hand. They drink and drink, maybe worshiping the poison as a god of inexhaustible nourishment. I saw one ant carry its dead comrade into the midst of the clear liquid - "This miraculous fount of life, possibly able even to raise the dead."
Until the bitter end, they love the poison.
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