Friday, September 3, 2010
I got two bee-stings this morning. I went messing with a hive (did I mention I'm apparently a slow learner?). Something looked a little unusual about their hive, and I decided to get nosy. Got stung on the hand. Several bees had landed on my hand and arm. I shook them off, but one little guy was persistent. No amount of shaking could release his grip. Just as I was about to pling him with my finger to dislodge him -- zzzzzt! Got me! No big deal -- didn't really hurt much at all. No swelling -- really not a big deal. (You KNOW it hurt the bee more than me, right?) Well, that bee must have been issuing a warning, which I should have heeded. The next sting came from a bee on a mission.
That thing came up from the hive at full speed and with perfect aim. Had I not closed my eyes, I probably would be blind right now. That sucker nailed me right on the eyelid. And boy did that hurt. By the time I got inside and pulled his rear end (which was attached to the stinger) out of my skin, my eyelid had already swollen up. It hurts from my nose to my ear.
Now, if that had been a wasp, I'd be madder than a wet hen about the sting. Wasp stings come unprovoked. I hate wasps. I'd just as soon squash them as look at them. But bees are a different story. I was messing with their home. I deserved to be stung. And they were "kind" enough to fire a warning before they pulled out the big guns.
Do you suppose I'll learn a lesson from this? I doubt it. I am fascinated by bees and what goes on inside their hives. I can't help but take a peek now and again.