Seriously. I work with bees a lot. I get stung a lot. But from time to time a honey bee really freaks me out.
Yesterday was cold but I’ve been doing some experiments with moisture control and I wanted to check my hives for dampness before it got even colder—something it is supposed to do this weekend. I was wearing a bee jacket and veil. I normally don’t wear protective gear in the winter for quick checks, but I’ve been getting stung a lot lately and didn’t want a swollen face for the weekend. I put my bee jacket over two sweatshirts and a tee shirt and called it good enough; my winter jacket just wouldn’t fit under there.
Long about the third hive an irritated guard nailed me on the wrist. It hurt too. No, I thought, the previous last sting-of-the-year wasn’t the last one after all.
I kept working and the rest of the job was uneventful. I was really cold though, so I collected an armload of wood before I went inside. I built a fire and stood close to the wood stove hoping to thaw my fingers.
After a moment I felt something wet under my shirt. I scrooched around in my clothes hoping to dry it. A moment later I felt in again, so I pulled my shirts up from the waist. I couldn’t see anything unusual so I yanked them back down and decided it was just the cold.
As the fire got warmer I felt the wet sensation yet again. This time I pulled my shirts out from the neck and looked down there. A miasma of alarm pheromone hit my nose. It confused me at first, and then I realized I was not alone in my shirts. I bunched up the fabric in my fists. Although I am not normally a bee killer, this was getting personal.
After a moment, I pulled on the neck of my shirts again and had another look. Then I freaked. She was in my bra, right where . . . where . . . oh, never mind. Let’s just say she had no business being where she was bee-ing.
I started to think of barter, negotiation, and compromise. I was willing to sacrifice my other wrist or maybe an arm or ankle to this marauding heathen but please not there! She was equally freaked and running in a tight little circle. I realized the wood stove was warming her into a frenzy.
Fit to be tied, I pulled off the bee jacket, sweatshirt number one, sweatshirt number two, the t-shirt, and the bra. I tossed them on the floor. I could hear myself make a little whiny noise as I wriggled out of each successive garment. My cat sat a cautious distance away, watching me with his head cocked. I told him where he could stuff it.
In the end nothing happened. The bee flew off in the house somewhere. The cat circled his tail, bored once more. I got dressed. This morning I found the bee marching across a blanket, blithely unaware of her extraordinary powers of intimidation.
Rusty
The culprit, blithely unaware.
Thanks so much for the laugh and the visual. It’s funny how us beekeepers can be so nonchalant about getting stung most times then, totally freak out when a bee finds her way up your pantleg. My dad had one get up his pantleg and into his pubic hair on one trip to an apiary this past summer. He dropped trousers right there in front of God and everybody to extract her. The panicked expression on his face was legendary. My stomach hurt from laughing. Happy new year.
Cheers
Jim
ps Surely your last sting of the year can’t be far off now!
Jim,
Thanks for that. Glad I’m not the only one!
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Last June after removing some drone comb the bees were very upset with me. I had sort of forgotten about it a couple hours later when I took my dogs out to the backyard to do their business. But the bees had not forgotten-a couple of them went after me & got in my hair. I HATE that! I threw the dog leashes into the air & made a run for it into the house. I got stung in the middle of my forehead, & when I got inside my 7 year old informed me that I had a bloody nose. Self inflicted, I’m pretty sure. I’m not proud to say I made him retrieve the dogs from the yard…
Susan,
I agree that getting them in your hair is the worst! It happens to me all the time and it’s nearly impossible to get them out. They just keep burrowing through until they get you.
I’m enjoying your blog! LOL, I’m so glad to read that I’m not the only one that gets chased by angry girls! They don’t forget a face either it seems
I have to stay inside a day or two after hive inspections or wear my head gear if I need to plant or cut grass. Before inspections though you’d never know they were here, except for happily buzzzing around. I’ve had times when they’ve been up my legs as well.
When my friend I were getting my bees into my hive (a split given to me by a generous friend) I had an audience standing a distance away, and my dad was among them. My dad didn’t know drones cannot sting, so when a clueless drone was put on him he went crazy, flailing and hitting himself while the drone clumsily moseyed on his shirt, unaffected. Priceless.
I wasn’t laughing when I was running around my yard because I could here a mad buzzing coming at me. Then I realized it was stuck in my hair. Amazingly, I wasn’t stung. This is my first year, and I’ve yet to be stung.