The Bees are Back!

Last night I got back home to find Vickie sitting pensively by the window, waiting for the arrival of Susan K. "She said only an hour, I hope she's all right." Why wouldn't Susan be all right?

"It turned out to take way longer than I thought," Susan says when she finally arrives, "the bees were in an apple tree behind some apartments on 98th, a beautiful big clump of them." She pulls a big cardboard box from her yellow hatchback and carries it to the fresh beehives Vickie's put together in the community garden.

Susan opens the box. A dirty golden mass of living creatures mills in one corner, strangely uncaring about our presence, though a few bees do fly randomly away from the hive. At about this time you become aware that it's cold and you are wearing only a T-shirt.

It seems that you can't just pour a mass of bees out of a box, the little sons of guns hold on. Pretty soon Susan is shaking the large box vigorously, causing even more of the insects to take to the air. I try not to panic as a rather attractive one lands on my face and circumnavigates my eye beneath my glasses.

I don't think most bees are very aggressive in the first place, but I've heard that while swarming they are especially self-absorbed. In some sort of zen state myself, I casually nudge the workers off my clothing. They're all over.

By now Susan is pounding the bottom of the box, little ragged clumps of ten or twelve bees at a time falling into the hive. She's determined to get every one into their new home. This is about the time that with a sinking feeling I realize that the little feet I feel are inside my shirt, not outside. At the first exploratory sting what can you do except hit it, but that just turns it into a suicidal terrorist, I've got an enormous welt beneath my armpit.

All's well that ends well. The bees are back at Big Daddy's Complete Rejuvenating Community Garden.