The life of a bee, according to a bee.
Fall is here, and the crops are quickly failing. We've worked them to the last drop, and now it's time to close up for the winter and prepare for the cold.
My duties as a field bee are temporarily suspended for the winter season. My job now, in these few brief weeks before the snow arrives, is to seal up the hive and insulate it to keep the cold winds out during the long months ahead.
Crops proved to be decent this year, and we have plenty of surplus honey. Disease is low, and the last bunch of bees born before the winter layover seem to be healthy. We should have a good winter.
Today is unusually warm and clear for this time of year, an Indian summer if you will, or a summer-like day in the early fall, if you won't. I'm just now on my way back to the hive. I've been out stretching my wings and getting some fresh air. Looking ahead, I see a tall, white creature approaching our hive. I fly faster now as the creature, a honey thief, breaks into the hive through the roof.
Darting through the entrance, my first concern is for the queen. Where is she? I call out, but all is confusion and chaos. As I frantically search, the food storage story above me is ripped off and the whole hive is severally shaken. Those are our winter stores; I must protect them!
I dart at the honey thief in a vain attempt to force him to release the honey. No luck, I can't find a way to get at his sensitive inner skin. I attack his face, but it too is protected.
Not to be thwarted, I search the inner folds of his throat region for an opening. Honey thieves are known to be especially vulnerable in this area. The air is thick with smoke now, and it's hard to stay oriented, but I burrow in deeper and deeper through the outer layers of skin.
And then I see it, a small opening leading to the inner pink flesh. I quickly call to the others to follow me in and then, knowing that I'm about to forfeit my life in defense of my colony, I plunge my stinger into the soft, hot flesh.
Unbearable pain is my reward, as my guts are ripped from my body. In my dying moments, I see other bees attacking this same spot, some from my colony and others from nearby colonies, and I know my sacrifice has paid off. This honey thief will suffer for his actions. My hive will be safe again. Brandi will live to see another spring. All... hail... the Queennnnnn.......
Fall is here, and the crops are quickly failing. We've worked them to the last drop, and now it's time to close up for the winter and prepare for the cold.
My duties as a field bee are temporarily suspended for the winter season. My job now, in these few brief weeks before the snow arrives, is to seal up the hive and insulate it to keep the cold winds out during the long months ahead.
Crops proved to be decent this year, and we have plenty of surplus honey. Disease is low, and the last bunch of bees born before the winter layover seem to be healthy. We should have a good winter.
Today is unusually warm and clear for this time of year, an Indian summer if you will, or a summer-like day in the early fall, if you won't. I'm just now on my way back to the hive. I've been out stretching my wings and getting some fresh air. Looking ahead, I see a tall, white creature approaching our hive. I fly faster now as the creature, a honey thief, breaks into the hive through the roof.
Darting through the entrance, my first concern is for the queen. Where is she? I call out, but all is confusion and chaos. As I frantically search, the food storage story above me is ripped off and the whole hive is severally shaken. Those are our winter stores; I must protect them!
I dart at the honey thief in a vain attempt to force him to release the honey. No luck, I can't find a way to get at his sensitive inner skin. I attack his face, but it too is protected.
Not to be thwarted, I search the inner folds of his throat region for an opening. Honey thieves are known to be especially vulnerable in this area. The air is thick with smoke now, and it's hard to stay oriented, but I burrow in deeper and deeper through the outer layers of skin.
And then I see it, a small opening leading to the inner pink flesh. I quickly call to the others to follow me in and then, knowing that I'm about to forfeit my life in defense of my colony, I plunge my stinger into the soft, hot flesh.
Unbearable pain is my reward, as my guts are ripped from my body. In my dying moments, I see other bees attacking this same spot, some from my colony and others from nearby colonies, and I know my sacrifice has paid off. This honey thief will suffer for his actions. My hive will be safe again. Brandi will live to see another spring. All... hail... the Queennnnnn.......
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