Close Encounters of the Bee Kind

I'm so glad I can provide entertainment and comic relief for my farm animals...

My husband had a long weekend off from work and also had a mile long "to do" list to go with the extra day off.  Friday started off  a little slow and he just kind of "putzed" around (not sure if putzed is a real word in anyone's dictionary but his) until the afternoon.

I noticed midday that there were some bees starting to enter my husband's work shop.  Chuck's a beekeeper and keeps his extra bee boxes and equipment in the front of his shop and a few bees will go in and check out the smell of the bee boxes then leave.  These bees didn't leave. As it was getting dark I asked my husband if the bees shouldn't be getting back to their hives before dark. They should be. Then I noticed there were even more of them trying to get out of closed windows.  He just shut the bees in for the night so they'd be safe.

The next morning he opened the building to let the bees out but they did not want to come out, they seemed to have found a new home.  By noon the bee count went from 50 to hundreds of bees going in and out of the very building he had wanted to work in all of his long weekend.

It seems one of his hives had split--taken their new queen--then found new digs in a bee box in his workshop.  The only way to enter that building now was to wear a bee suit--a hot, heavy bee suit and head gear that makes you look like an astronaut.  If I were a bee I'm thinking a giant white astronaut coming at me in a menacing way would make me pull the bee attack alarm. Nope, it doesn't. They just ignore it and go on their merry bee ways.

Night 2--my husband closes his workshop full of bees to keep them safe.  The next morning is church, then my husband comes home to get into his astronaut suit.  I literally could hear the roar of the bees from my house as soon as he opened his workshop door.  

Cats were running, dogs headed for cover--it was an all out bee frenzy as the very ticked off bees were making their ransom demands known: 1)We want this bee box 2)We want honey to eat (we're too lazy to find nectar) 3)No more astronauts--next one that comes through this door is toast. If our ransom demands are not met, Pumpkin, the only cat still in this building, will become 1 with the bees (in other words, sleep with the fishes).  What can I say? We met their demands.

Little did these little hijackers know, we had a plan too. As soon as it got almost dark (when the bees go in their box for the night) we were going to relocate the very bee box they were so enamored with to its rightful place on the farm.

Chuck donned the astronaut suit. I did not. I was already hot, sweaty, mosquito repellanted to death and was in no mood to put on an even hotter suit of clothes. Besides, the last time I got all suited up to move a hive I never saw even 1 bee.  I was not trying to be "macho"--if a woman can be--I just didn't see the need to put on a bee suit. So, we put the bee box on our farm gator and off we went to the other side of the farm.

All went well as the box was being placed on its stand.  Then the astronaut opened the bee hive entrance and all bee hell broke loose.  Chuck was covered with bees and yelled for me to head for the hills in the gator.  Not that he was going to get hurt with that astronaut suit, gloves, boots, etc--the bees wouldn't be able to touch him. 

I hesitated as I saw the bees all over him--my first instinct was to go towards him to help.  But, something I learned years ago in the beekeeping world--and something you will want to burn into your memory for all time is: If the astronaut is waving his arms at you it does not mean "Hello, glad to see you". It means, loosely translated, "Get the heck out of dodge!"

So I did...

The astronaut walked behind me and, as he did, the bees went back to their hive.  All but 5 or 6 of them.  They wanted the astronaut to die. Remember their ransom demand, "No more astronauts"! They remembered it too.

I, however, was not an astronaut. And all that sweat and bug spray did not make me smell beelike, neither did it make me invisible to bees.  Quite the opposite.  As Chuck walked past me with his 5-6 bee companions clinging mercilessly to his suit, 1 of them decided I should die too. It attacked me with a fury few humans have known, then dove under my shirt and made its, "I may not kill you but I'll die trying" high pitched sound that is unmistakeable to man or beast even if they've never heard it before.

This is where the entertainment of the farm animals began...

I'm not afraid of getting stung. I've been stung before. But there are just certain places I'd rather not be stung.  I vigorously shook my shirt out (all the while telling the bee I was its friend) hoping somehow it would understand my alien murmurings.  It didn't.  The "I want to kill you" sound was at a fever pitch so I upped my game. I did the Watusi, the Mashed Potato, the Jerk--anything I could do to get that bee out of my shirt. Yes, I did...all the while trying not to kill the bee. Remember, I can't kill things even if they want to kill me.

Within seconds the bee was safely removed and all was well.  No one had seen me, thank goodness...

Then I looked up and saw 23 sets of eyes transfixed on me: Sheep, Livestock Guard Dogs and 2 rescue Goats were standing statue still watching mom dance and "sing". 

Chuck had stayed far enough away from me as to not attract any more bees but close enough to see that I was ok.  I had just performed a "So You Think You Can Dance Routine" (that no one else could touch), for their viewing pleasure. And, it seemed to either terrify the animals so much they were afraid to move (after all, they might be the next to be "danced" with) or put them in some sort of paralyzing hypnotic trance.

I'll never know what they were thinking but I 'm pretty sure I heard the goats snickering as I took a much deserved bow and went on my way...



Jackie Deems
Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2011

Farewell to a Forever Friend

My dear little farm dog, Bear, has just taken her last breath...

I remember the first time I saw her, she was locked in a kennel at the dog pound, huddled in the far corner of  her cage, too afraid to even look at me--just thinking about it caused her to tremble.  "She's really not adoptable since she's so shy and afraid."  The pound worker informed me.  "We can keep her for a week but after that, her time will be up."

I couldn't get that little bundle of white fur out of my mind so I called the pound back the next day to ask about her status.  "Today is her last day, we had a big intake of dogs and she's first on the list to "go" now.

I called my husband at work and pleaded for Bear's life.  He said, "We don't need another dog".  My reply, "Maybe she needs us" met with no further resistance. I went and got that little dog--along with all the adult cats the pound was housing--put them in the back of my van and went straight to the vet's to have everyone neutered.  I hadn't even thought about what I was doing (I was just so glad I had them all out of the pound safely): 1 dog with 9 cats in the back of a van...but Bear just laid quietly and slept the whole trip.

When I brought her home the next day, she followed me everywhere.  She became my chore dog and constant companion--20 pounds of fur and feisty. But she would not come into the house, not even for a moment.  I soon figured out this little girl did not like to be caged, tied, or held back.  She just had to be free.

So, I finally gave in and just allowed her to roam the farm.  Our 1/3 mile long lane seemed to keep her off the road and at any given time of day or night she came immediately when I called her so I knew she remained close at hand.

My husband, I and the farm cats made up her circle of friends and she regularly scratched the farm cats' backs with her teeth (leaving them looking as if they'd been moussed) and allowed them entrance into her doghouse where they slept together. 

She was a character, her normal bark was more of a "Woo-Woo" and, if she barked as a normal dog, it was rapid fire and for a reason.  Like the time a very large dog (at least 3 times Bear's size) came out of nowhere, bearing it's teeth and menacingly coming towards me.  Rapid fire barking was followed by a streak of white fur and Bear's broadside hit on the dog knocked it off its feet. I had saved her from death, she was saving me...

In the last few years of her life, Bear began wandering from our farm.  For her own safety, I began to try and keep her contained.  During that time she dug out of barns, climbed out of enclosures and even chewed her way out of chain link fence like a furry jaws of life. I rescued her back from 2 separate Humane Societies, one she was taken to by a Good Samaritan who had found her on the road, dazed and cold.  She just had to be free...

It was determined she had Doggie Dementia and her new medications seemed to keep her content at times--at other times she would work herself up into a frenzy trying to get out of her welded wire kennel placed on stone slab so she could not dig out.  We spent so many late nights together, her head in my lap, talking about all the sunny days and adventures we'd had on our 12 year journey.

Then she developed a growth on her toe and it was determined she likely had cancer.  She quit eating and so I fed her canned dog food with a spoon.  Her tail quit wagging, her eyes were vacant, but she didn't seem to be in pain. We spent long hours together--just being together.  I did not want to let go--she hung onto life because somehow she knew I needed her to...

Until 2 days ago when she was obviously in pain.  Maybe she was just having a bad day...let's see what tomorrow brings...but the next day was much worse as she cried out in pain...

A long conversation with my dear friend, Mary Ann, and my vet/friend brought me to the best conclusion for my beloved companion, my best furry girlfriend.  She had several problems that were not going to get better and she was 12 years old.  It was time for me to give her one last final gift--loving her enough to let her go.

Even though I could have taken Bear to the vet's office I asked the vet to come to our home--Bear's home--where she wouldn't be as stressed.  I wanted her time to be as loving and comfortable as it could be.  And, as the vet approached Bear to put her to rest, my little furry friend unselfishly gave me one last gift to show her love for me; she laid down in her most comfortable sleeping position as if to say, "I'm ready, don't worry about me, I'll be ok."

She just had to be free--my little Bear is finally free...


                                                                  

                                                                     To my Furry Angel Friend

Many years ago I asked God to send me a special earthly friend, someone I could put my arms around, someone who reflected many of His attributes...

I asked for someone who would ...

Love me unconditionally, even when I wasn't loving or lovable
Forgive me, when I was angry or really made a mess of things
Listen, when no one else wanted to
Try to understand me, even if I did not always return the favor
Keep my deepest secrets and share my heartaches
Sit quietly beside me as we just enjoyed each other's company
Treat me as if I was the most special person on earth--when I was so very, very far from being that

It's not until now, that you're gone from my side, that I realize God answered my prayer the moment He brought you into my life...

I will miss you always, my Furry Angel Friend--my Precious Gift from God. I thought you needed me, but it was I who truly needed you...

Love,
Mom



by Jackie Deems copyright 2011