The Not-So-Secret Life of Bees

Does anyone have an epi-pen?
I’m happy to report that as of this afternoon, our house is bee-free. In a relatively short period of time, they came, they saw a tiny hole in the plaster of a column in the front of our house, they conquered the column, they got euthanized for $250.

As soon as we saw the large brown mass of bees gathering around the curlicues on the column I called the bee experts. By the time they were able to send a hit man out, the bees multiplied, called all their friends and acquaintances, had some people in from out of town, and were covering about a 3-foot-by-3-foot area.

And then, suddenly, they were gone. How suddenly? I looked out and saw them, vibrating all over each other, heard the clinking of margarita glasses, saw signs of a couple of Tastefully Simple parties, and then I went to WalMart and when I got back they had disappeared. There were a few late-comers buzzing about as if to say, “Where is everybody? I thought they said Monday at 6! I swear they were right here! Do I have the right column?” But the main mosh pit was history. 

The bee experts came out anyway and told me that in the time it took me to buy Gatorade, batteries and a birthday card at WalMart, the bees filed into that little hole and were now inside the column setting up housekeeping. 

He also told me I shouldn’t worry about the fact that he was going to kill them, because, although honey bees are in danger right now, about 75 percent of all the bees in our county are Africanized Killer Bees.

Oh great. 

So there was a 75 percent chance that those bees were killer bees. Jack won’t let me take that story any further. I tried. I painted scenarios where the small black dog with the cone on its head who lives next door gets stung to death, we find the body and we have to call the police. No one will help us and we have to flee in the night. They’re swarming around our heads, we jump in the car, but it won’t start because there are bees all over the engine.  

“You’ve been watching too many movies during the day,” my son said.

In real life, it was pretty undramatic. The bee killer didn’t even wear a big suit. He just put a hat with a net on his head, climbed up on a ladder and did a couple of extremely low-tech things like knock on the column and put his ear up to it. With a Browns cap and a first communion veil I could have done the same thing and I would have only charged about $125.