“Hello, bees!”
I always say this in a tone suited for greeting a group of mean girls or potential muggers. My neighbor’s attack dogs received similar salutations. Perhaps the desperation and terror will be masked by the forced joviality. Maybe it will set a nice tone. It’s a beautiful day, I’m not carrying cash, and there’s no need to sting me.
Monday rolled around, and there was trouble in the kingdom. Was the Queen dead? We had reason to suspect she was, but couldn’t be sure. And why? Something was amiss. Bob was worried. I was, too. “Oh no, we’ve killed her! We’ve killed her!”
My theory? There was a honeybee version of Meghan Markle flying around, dragging an orange-tinted drone wherever she went, telling the birds that the hive didn’t really produce honey, the working conditions were abysmal, urging hornets to cancel it, etc. This would have caused the Queen bee to roll her eyes SO hard, and since two of the five are compound, they got horribly stuck, causing painful death.
The teachers told me not to project human emotions onto the tiny insects, but still…
“Hello, Bees!” The ATV whirred to a stop. A teacher herself was here to help.
Let’s call her….Jan…Molotov. (Sounds like an 80’s metal band from the UK. Then again, so does Meghan Markle.)
30,000 Dragons
Remember, folks, I’m scared of bees. With a protective suit, gloves, jeans, boots…they can’t get at much, but still…
Fear aside, “Jan Molotov” was there. I had to be a big boy.
We started the smoker. A few puffs around the hive, and then the lid was off.
“What’s wrong with this lid?”
“Uhhh…” I stared at it blankly.
“It’s on upside down!”
More smoke, careful prying…the topmost “super” (box) full of honey and bees set aside, gently buzzing.
The “brood” (main) box seemed a bit quiet. Most people, though, would have yelled and ran.
Jan Molotov instructed us to start lifting frames out. One, set aside. Two, set aside. Working with a tiny crowbar to free them from the “bee glue” (propolis), we made progress.
“They’re really starting to buzz. Are they getting mad?”
“Nah, they’re just a little ticked. Nothing serious.”
Swallowing my fear, I hoisted out a frame covered in bees.
“Lemme see that.”
I gingerly handed it to Jan.
“You got a bee brush?”
I handed her something I had used to sweep off my workbench.
“That’s not a bee brush!”
Suddenly, a violent shake of her hands.
It took me a second to register what the black wave that floated towards me with a hissing buzz was.
She sent three thousand bees airborne, clearing the frame with a deft move.
“Ah…!” I stepped back, the air thick with aggravated Italian bees. Ayyy! We’re workin’, here!
Then I leaned back in, watching Jan work. So gentle was she - brushing the bees off with her bare hands, examining the frame, looking for brood, or, as she put it, “the future of the colony.”
Something funny happened. I forgot myself, and paid attention to the bees, learning what they were doing, how they had things set up, how hard they were working. Jan’s calmness - oneness - with the bees, was striking. It was as if they knew her. She didn’t get stung once. They danced together.
Bright rays of hope appeared. There was some brood (young bees.)
A Trumpet Blast
And then….
A bee in a tiny hat crawled out of a throng of admiring workers. We knew immediately by the roses in her hat that she was special. If the wind in the hickory trees had sounded like trumpets, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
“There’s the Queen!” Jan exclaimed.
We all bowed immediately.
Just kidding!
But the Queen was there, in natural bee form. (This is a different Queen. Note how she’s longer and bigger than the workers.)
She tried to escape, but Jan was too quick for her. Grabbing her with two fingers (BAREHANDED!), Jan whipped out a special bee marker, and holding her captive, put a bright yellow dot on her back.
Then, the Queen went into a portable “Tower of London” for the paint to dry. After a few minutes, she was released, much to the relief of her daughter subjects.
They buzzed, raising in pitch, swirling through the air, but…
I wasn’t afraid anymore. It was so good to see there was a Queen. Now they could make it through the winter. Now they had a future. And they had a new subject, too. I’m such a fan. I’M TRANSFORMED!
I can’t wait for spring, and the next year in the royal kingdom!
Big thanks to “Jan Molotov” for the lesson. I’m so glad that my theory of the kingdom was wrong, and that I was overly whiny.
And uh oh…does this mean that….I’m Meghan Markle?
I’m outta here!
-Josh
" Jan’s calmness - oneness - with the bees, was striking." I read striking as stinging at first glance. Looking at the pictures alone makes me nervous.