It was 2:29 AM. I was wolfing down a steak at a truckstop diner, in between spreading pallets of bees in the pear orchards. A bee popped out of my sleeve while I was ordering and I quickly scooped her up and held her in my hand. She hadn’t stung and was intact, so she had a chance if I got her back to a hive.
But the waitress had noticed. Her eyes got large as she asked, “What was that?”
I tried to look casual and innocent: “Nothing.” But she persisted, “Was that was a bee?”
I nodded reluctantly, and she asked me to take it outside, which I did. Later, she came over and said, “Can I ask you something? If I hadn’t seen that bee, would you have just held it the whole meal?” I shrugged—I hadn’t thought that far ahead—and she said, “I’ve never seen anything like that. You must really love your bees.”
It made me tremendously happy to realize she was absolutely right, I really do love them. Then she said, “I’m going to have to look up honey bees and read about them.”
That was the honey on the hot bun!
Kat Nesbit raises bees in southern Oregon, and hosts the annual Treatmeant-free Beekeeping Conference. This post was originally published on Bliss Honeybees.