Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Bee Kind

OK, well...after hearing from all the cat lovers out there I have decided to issue an apology.

I hereby apologize to Mom Nature for humans being so stupid as to domesticate a non social predator in the first place. Given the choice between birds and cats...I pick the dinosaurs. Even though I love my cat. I am fairly certain this one, dear Magnolia, will be the last outside cat for me. Now if I can figure out how to keep the dinosaurs from flying into the windows...It's odd to me that my house has a gazillion windows ( well fifty anyway) and the birds only conk into three of them. There's some natural science field work needed here.

I'll get on it right after I kill all the carpenter bees. Some environmentalist, me!

I may have told you guys this, but the big bumblebee with the white face doesn't have a stinger. My mom told me that 48 years ago when I was trying to get a tired junebug to fly while I held on to the string I had tied to his leg. after a couple of tries at tossing him up into the air, harder and harder, I stared at the junebug leg that was all I had left on the string as my mom tried to tell me one of those many lessons moms try to tell their unheeding children. But Moms of the world take heart. You will be pleased to know that the very lessons you tried to drill into our heads, before the testosterone ruined everything, will come back to us in those "Mom told you so!" moments, even if that moment is decades later.

No stinger...the ones with the white dot on their head can't sting and they fly way better than junebugs. Ok, so my Mom's chickenshit son had to look it up to be sure, no he didn't totally trust his mom, and he was still scared when he grabbed the bee with the white dot on its face with his bare hand. The thing just flew right up and hovered and he grabbed it even while he didn't want to...and the bee was not happy at being grabbed but did not sting, even though his hand was ready to send the ripping pain message to the brain...The bee kept trying to claw its way out of the hand and then the hand opened up and the bee sat there and didn't fly away and then it did. And the Mother's son shook his hand as if it had been stung but it hadn't and he was just shaking the bee tracks out of his mind and thinking,

Mom was right. The whitefaced bees can't sting. They are the males, by the way. The girls will kick your ass. Mom was right about that, too.

Metaphor everywhere you look.



1 comment:

  1. I keep having encounters with beasts of the field which teach me that if everyone understands everyone else is just doing his/her job, no one gets hurt. It's hysterical humans who think the whole outdoors is out to get them who suffer the most.

    I've been working around a thyme plant lately which is loaded with flowers and therefore loaded with bees. In this territory they can be "africanized" bees so one initiates contact cautiously. But the bees at the thyme plant have figured out that all the work I pour into the yard is largely for their benefit. I wouldn't be surprised if they were to go so far as to say "thank you" -- as I do to them every time we meet.

    The wild turkeys are out there this morning. Some sort of riot is planned I think. Lots of turkey noise. The brown-headed cowbirds (song like water in a drain) have taken over the bird-feeder. The same stupid wren is building her nest again in the same old work glove in the garage. The cats are biding their time, knowing that delicious tapas will be ready for them in a few weeks.