Howdy, folks!
An update…the beehives are fixed (since this letter), and the queen is laying! We thought they were goners. Whew! And now, getting back on track, here’s this week’s Letters from Josh. (I send ‘em to my retirement home buddies, and like to repost them here.)
Letters from Josh
Don’t Lose Your Cool Letter 78 4/18/22
Howdy, folks! Happy belated Easter and Passover…and tax day. Yikes. Hopefully they didn’t get ya too bad this time. Perhaps the IRS will start accepting Cadbury eggs as legal tender. Here’s another bee story for you, with a preface. Once upon a time, many years ago, a girl described me as “calm and laid back.” Flirting is one thing, but the stunning inaccuracy of the observation made me laugh and laugh. Cut to last week’s patrol, err…inspection of the bee hive. My stepdad Bob was the crew chief this time (although I think “platoon leader” was closer to the truth.) I was more nervous and jumpy than usual as I suited up. We smoked ‘em with the little smoke can, opened the box, and warily eyed ten thousand buzzing bees. I smoked ‘em again, and this time, they got ticked. A collective “ayyyy” went up from the Italian ladies (did you know that most honeybees are Italian, although Russian bees are also popular?) Their buzzing was rising in pitch, so I cut it out. Picture the hive as a file cabinet, and each “frame” like a folder. The bees build comb on this. Well, the “folders” were sagging, necessitating the installation of rubber bands around them. Bob would hold a frame up, and I’d band it, moving over dozens of bees to keep things snug. Two, three, four frames. All good. The buzzing of the hive seemed to be rising, and suddenly, this calm pastime seemed suspenseful, a wartime patrol turning dangerous. They flew around, buzzed, Bob called for another band. “Do it!” I felt like I was deep in a jungle with the enemy lurking. “Next band!” Trying to breath calmly, I stretched the band over a mass of several hundred bees, and then I lost my cool. I just…let go. SNAP! went the rubber band. Right on the huddle of ‘em. BOOM. A swarm of angry ladies rose into the air. “BUZZZ.” “AYYY!” “Not cool!” said Sgt. Bob as they swirled around, echoing his sentiment. “Yeah yeah, I know!” I said, frantically reaching for the smoker…that had gone out. “Uh, I’d better go light this” I mumbled and fumbled, making a beeline (pun intended) for the truck to relight it. They calmed down…a bit. But the jungle still rustled with enemy unseen, the buzzing stayed up, and we wrapped up the patrol as soon as we could. Base never looked so good. On a more peaceful note, a Whip-poor-will (night bird) chanted his song under the full Pink moon this weekend. Talk about some mountain magic. Till next time! - Josh