I saved a bee’s life yesterday…
It was a lazy day. I was lounging on the hammock by the pool, texting Jason, and just thinkin’ about stuff. I was about to go back inside; – the day was hot, and I was in dark jeans and a dark tank – I had sat up and swung my legs over the edges of the white rope hammock, just staring at nothing… When I noticed a poor insect had gotten itself into a bit of trouble in the pool.
I watched for a bit. The water rippled in a circle around it, sometimes looking like a satin ribbon whispering in a breeze about its legs as it struggled to free itself from the clutches of its watery nightmare. I stood up, checking the most recent text I had gotten on my orange, enV phone, flipped the phone open to its qwerty keyboard (which is awesome for those that don’t care to learn how to text via number pad…), and sent my response. With a quick snap, I closed the phone and made as if to go back into the house, when I again noticed the poor bug that was struggling to survive.
It’s a strange feeling, watching something you know is about to die, and also knowing you have the capacity to save it. Like playing God. I knelt down at the edge of the pool, studying the now-confirmed bee closer. It’s transparent wings were wet… useless. Antennae barely keeping above the surface of the water. Six black legs twitching furiously, dark, orange-yellow and black striped abdomen dipping down into the water as though it would be enough thrust to free it, yet its wings hung limply down its back. It only succeeded in turning itself in a circle. Every now and again it ceased its struggle and I wondered if it had finally given up. No. A moment’s rest to calm its screaming limbs that were quite possibly burning from exertion, before frantically, futilely trying to free itself.
Maybe it knew it wanted to live. Maybe it was just a simple creature and all it was relying on was survival instincts. I can’t pretend to know what goes on in the minds of bees, but I imagine this one was crying out, “Oh shit, save me!” I took pity on it. Why? I don’t know. I glanced around behind me, knowing there had to be a dried up leaf I could use to scoop it up. I spotted one with a nice long stem, picked it up, and reached out to the poor creature. I didn’t know if the disturbance the leaf would create would cause my rescue project to swirl away from me, so I angled in from behind, dipping the leaf in and getting the bee stuck on its edge.
Success! I placed the dried leaf on the concrete walkway around the pool and continued to watch this now-fortunate bee. It seemed disorriented as it tried to grasp what just happened, and by what good fortune it was rescued. If I didn’t know better, and if bees could feel emotions, I’d like to think it was grateful to me.
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Oh… and I really… really hate my imagination. Can’t do much to alleviate that burning desire for shower sex you so kindly put into my head.
