Two summers ago I had a lesson in respect
for the bumble bee! I didn't mean to disturb them. I was just trying to be a
good helper. Thank goodness my family was nearby to advise, help, and rescue me,
even if it wasn't necessarily the way 911 would have done it. It left me with a
phobia, but I'm getting better all the time.
My job was to pick
up the bales of hay and toss them onto the trailer as it went slowly by. When I
lifted that last bale of hay, it was like I removed the lid off of Pandora's box. I
was surrounded by a swarm of bees with a common goal, which was to make a giant pin
cushion out of me.
The fight or flight
reflex kicked in and I chose flight. However, bees fly faster than I do. I think my
grandfather thought the wild furious movements of the bees was a flame because he yelled
for me to stop and drop! I don't know why, but I did. Then, in the midst of all
the buzzing and
humming of
the bees, I heard my aunt yell, "Bees! Bees! Run! Run!" After lying there
a few seconds and getting stung, I decided to go with my aunt's idea and run.
Fortunately, my favorite blue hat stayed behind and took the brunt of the attack. I
made it to the truck and rolled up the window just in time, before that most determined
bee got in.
Coincidentally, the
very next day I was at my aunt's storage room and was stung again by a bumble bee.
Now I was convinced that all bees were out to get me. If a mosquito as much as
buzzed me, I ducked. I avoided suspicious areas that might harbor a bee. I was
on constant watch in spring and summer. I am most at ease in winter.
Since this
experience I have hauled hay, but they have to pay me a lot more to do it now. I
know that I'm on the road to recovering from the fear of bees because now I don't jump out
of the barber chair everytime I hear the buzzing of the barber's clippers.
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