Products Of The Hive

I always wear protection when working with my honeybee colonies. It’s foolish not to. But this was going to be a quick and easy trip in and out of a hive, so I figured there wouldn’t be a need to fully suit up. Feeling both Humboldt County cute and too lazy to change my clothes, I decided to stay in my nicest Costco yoga pants and just throw on a veiled jacket. Black being the most triggering color to bees and skin-tight being the poorest choice a beekeeper could make, I knew going into it I wasn’t making the best wardrobe decision.  But really, who willingly goes into something knowing that it might actually be the worst decision one could ever make?

I was planning to do a simple maneuver that involves lifting up the hive cover and sliding in a plastic sheet to collect a thing called propolis. Propolis is a brown sticky substance bees create from foraged tree resins to coat the inside of the hive during the cooler seasons. It becomes somewhat of an expansion of the colony’s immune system, and with the abundance in our woody area there is more than enough to safely collect a surplus for use in human products and crafts. Behind honey and wax, I personally think it’s the third best harvestable product of the hive. But none of that actually matters for this story. It’s really just hard for me to shut up once I start talking about bee stuff. 

Anyway, I needed an inch of space to do my thing, but bees only need a quarter of an inch to get through anything.  Upon lifting up the cover just about a half an inch, bees immediately started flying out of the hive in a cloud of hundreds, protective of their area and on a mission to deter the intruder. They buzzed a distinctive irritated buzz and they pelted at me in warning. Most of my colonies are sweet and docile, but the normally feisty nature of this particular colony is what keepers call “hot.” It’s normal to get stung more than a few times doing any kind of work with a hot hive. It happens. I anticipate it. I actually don’t mind it so much.  

Lifting up the cover another half inch to get the plastic in, a new wave of bees crashed onto me with no further courtesy warning, successfully locating any exposed patch of bare skin and the entire front and length of my pants.  Not caring if I was their friendly keeper or a threatening bear, they bypassed the thin material of my yoga pants, attaching their stingers directly into the skin right below, lighting up the lower half of my body with either venom or fire. I know the difference, but for a minute it was hard to tell. But I took the hint, I put down the cover, and I started walking away slowly. 

Unfortunately for all of us, I accidentally placed the cover askew, leaving it open just enough to piss off every other worker bee still in the hive. Walking away slowly instantly turned into involuntary jumping and urgently brushing at my legs. Mere seconds later there were heats of determined bees flying right at those cursed black pants. So many I couldn’t brush them off quickly enough, or even at all. I looked down to see a literal carpet of bees gripped on to the entire lower half of my body. I made the executive decision to take off the pants entirely and get behind a closed door through any means possible. 

But the shock of so many stings and the volume of their venom became enough to override any logical reasoning, leaving me to fend for myself with only a select few and severely out of shape fight or flight skills. My most natural reactions became an impromptu spectacle in the middle of a very open and exposed yard in the middle of one of the most quiet and conservative towns in the county. 

Without further ado, it all played out; a middle-aged, overweight lady furiously stripping off her pants until she is wearing nothing but a bee jacket and underwear, cussing out bugs in every direction at the top of her lungs.  Then she begins to gallop around with fervor to nowhere like a wild horse in captivity, all the while slapping madly at her butt and crotch with primal frenzy. While a majority of the bees stayed on the pants that were now flung halfway across the yard, some bees realized the new opportunity of bare skin and went for it. Many of those little determined bugs tried their darndest to get through the panties from every single possible direction. Most, I dread to say, had success. 

I finally made it to the safety of our semi-enclosed shop, brushed the rest of the bees off my bare legs and undies, stripped them off with my bee jacket, and darted back outside to throw it all away as far as I could. It’s worth mentioning as part of all this, the shop walls are constructed from windows. Between what was visible outside in the yard and what was visible from inside the shop, it all must have been the most action packed, extensive, and complete strip show my elderly neighbors have ever seen. Because I know they already spy on me through their sheer privacy curtains on even a normal day. Good thing they already think I’m weird. 

After a brief break and a quick wardrobe change into full body protective gear, I was able to safely execute the rest of the original mission with no further casualties on the end of myself or the bees. But even some hours later I am still pumped with a pleasant amount of adrenaline, my legs feel independently exhilarated, and my full and encompassed bikini line is now hot, itchy, and alive in a way I have never felt before. And that also likely won’t soon subside. And that may even wind up swelling considerably. Bee sting reactions can be delayed and unpredictable, so we’ll just have to wait and see how things progress down there. But after eight years of marriage, I will take what I can get. 

In the end, I guess it didn’t wind up being the worst decision I could have ever made. Reflecting on it all I see a real win-win-win situation, actually. The bees taught a keeper to always dress appropriately, the neighbors now have an exciting story to tell at their next church dinner, and my entire crotch region feels tingly and invincible.  If this feeling keeps up, I may have just discovered the fourth best product of the hive.