A Honeybee’s Tale

What’s happening? Where am I?

“This is HoneyBee Heaven,” replied an elderly Queen bee stretched out on a large leaf amid a beautiful array of brightly coloured blossoms. The air was scented with nectar.

To one side, a pair of wizened old drones ogled me, as they probably did all new arrivals of working women.

Why am I here?

“My dear,” explained QueenBee, “you are — ahem — deceased, I’m afraid. Come and perch on a nice comfy leaf and tell us what happened.”

Well, I’m worker number 144 from a hive near Alvinston in Ontario. After two days of rain and thunderstorms, our Queen sent all of us girls out today to get caught up on our nectar collection.

A group of us — we call ourselves the Honey Bunch — spotted a patch of weeds beside a house in town. It looked quite messy but there were lots of blossoms on the weeds so we Bunchers settled in.

Soon, a Human arrived with a pair of shears and started cutting the weeds. He was a very old skinny geezer. His overalls were too big for him, so there were loose gaps around his waist, and stray clippings were falling into his pants. I happened to be working on a lovely white flower on a high vine when Human decided to snip it. Down I went with the clipping into the dark depths of his drawers.

I don’t like the dark so I panicked and brought out my stinger. A girl has to defend herself with the tools she was given.

“You are quite right, my dear,” agreed QueenBee.”Please continue.”

The stinger went right through into Human’s skinny old bottom and he let out a yelp. He started dancing around, while I was lost in the darkness of his overalls. He must have run into the house and dropped his drawers because suddenly there was light everywhere.

I flew out and began searching for the wide outdoors. Human quickly left the room and slammed the door behind him. I flew round and round that space but I was trapped. Then the door opened and he returned with a flappy thing I think is called a fly swatter. My panic had slowed me down, and when I landed he got me.

As my body lay on the floor, Human looked at me and said sadly, “I thought you were a wasp. I hate wasps, but I love honey and honey bees. I am very sorry.”

“You were the victim of an accident, my dear,” said QueenBee. “I’m glad Human was remorseful. But he will have trouble sitting down for a few days. Let’s hope he doesn’t lose his taste for honey.”