Anthropomorphizing Honey Bees?

by Martine Gubernat
The weather was unusually warm during the last few days of September and the honey bees in our yard were out and flying, which made me smile that they likely found some pollen and nectar sources this late in the season.

Bee in Distress

Upon my return from an afternoon walk, I noticed a lone honey bee in a shady spot on my back deck and, concerned about her well-being, I squatted down and observed her closely for any movement that might indicate that she was still alive. Seeing nothing and assuming that she was dead, I picked her up and turned her over to check to see if she had any mites on her abdomen (we treated all the hives with a miticide in late-July/early August).

I guess that my picking her up stirred her from her stupor because I noticed a flicker of movement in her back legs. I was thrilled!

"I’ll save you, little bee!" I thought.

I immediately shifted into rescue mode, determined to reunite this honey bee with her colony (or at least one of the colonies in the yard since I certainly couldn’t determine which specific one she came from). I set her back on her feet, cupped her carefully in the palm of my hand, and then softly breathed warm air on her, like human-to-honey-bee CPR, I thought to myself.

After three or four long puffs of warm air, I could feel the slight movements of her little bee body as she warmed up and came back to life.

Rescue in Progress

I walked down the deck steps and across the yard toward the hives, careful not to drop her en route to her reunion with her sisters and her queen. I read somewhere that honey bees buzz at the same frequency as the “Ohm” used in meditation (which I guess is why being around the bees is so relaxing), so I made audible Ohm sounds as I walked, in order to relax the little bee. Yes, she’s only one honey bee in a colony of tens of thousands, I thought to myself, but I don’t want her to die on my watch, far from her home and family.

Even though the bright sun was no longer overhead, the apiary was buzzing with activity as I approached. “It’s your welcome home party, little bee!" I told her as we approached Hive 1. “All your sisters have come out to greet you!” True enough, the bees were flying all around, including directly at my face. “Aren’t you all happy that I rescued your sister?” I asked, not really expecting an answer since their flight patten directed at my head was speaking louder than any direct reply. I’ll just put her up at the top entrance, I thought to myself. She’ll walk back in and be so happy to be home.

A Whole New Danger

I uncupped my hand and very gently picked her up between my thumb and pointer finger, gingerly putting her at the edge of the upper entrance. As soon as her little bee feet touched the board, she stung me right on the very tip of my pointer finger! I was trying to save you from death outside of your hive, but now you’ve killed yourself and you’re trying to take me with you??? I thought. Did I mention that I’m allergic to honey bee stings and a few years back needed two pokes with an EpiPen in the ambulance on the way to the ER?*

I quickly scratched out the venom sack then stuck the tip of my finger in my mouth in a lame attempt to suck out the poison. Feeling ridiculous, I resorted to squeezing the tip of my finger until it bled, hoping that the venom would flow out with the blood. I walked quickly away from the hives before any of the other bees came after me, blaming me for their sister’s demise.

Crises Averted

What the heck just happened? I wondered. The answer followed in short order — anthropomorphizing honey bees is not really such a good idea. As a beekeeper, my hope is to understand and support bee biology and bee culture so that I can co-exist with my honey bees without thinking — for even a second — that they are like me, because if they were like me (or any other human), they would not be very good honey bees.

On the other hand, I thought, perhaps humans would benefit from being a little more like honey bees: create a buzz wherever you go; labor together cooperatively; mind your own beeswax; work hard at a variety of tasks, not to benefit yourself but rather for the greater good; dance when you find what makes you happy; stick close to your honey; bee yourself.

After leaving the colonies and returning to my kitchen, I brewed myself a cup of tea with the accompanied with Raw Honey for Rooibos, a dark and rich honey from the nectar of Japanese knotweed. It soothed my tastebuds and distracted me from my throbbing finger.

* Since you’re reading this, you’ve figured out that I didn’t die via anaphylaxis from this sting or the previous one that required an EpiPen and ER visit. I now get bee venom injections every five weeks under the supervision of an allergist who specializes in this type of treatment. I’m happy to report that it has been very successful for me!