A Lesson from the Bees

I started the summer season with three colonies of bees. Two of them were nucs – short for nucleus, five frames, half of a “box,” with a queen and larva or baby bees. One of the nucs grew and grew, new bees popping out and lots of activity. The other one was slower, smaller, not so active. The third hive was on its second year. The girls had survived the winter and were busy multiplying, coming and going, bringing back nectar and pollen. 

Yesterday, I checked on the hives. The small hive is no more. I think they just died out. Maybe the queen was not strong and did not survive. The hive from last year is empty, too. I think it may have swarmed. I’ll do a closer check in a day or so. The third hive, the one that started as a nuc, seems healthy and strong. But the honey super, the small box on top of the hive where the bees put extra honey, was bare. No honey this year. I hope they have put some down below for the winter. I’ll check on that when it is not so hot. 

And even though I was stirring around in the hive, removing the super, shaking off bees, they were calm. They have been calm all summer. We see them a lot at the swimming pool, drinking water, crawling on floats, even perching on someone’s arm. The kids have learned not to be afraid. They know that the bees generally won’t sting unless they feel attacked. And when they do have to sting, it costs them everything: they die. 

 I think of how casually people attack each other for no reason, especially on social media. Many of the attacks are unprovoked. If people don’t like something, they strike, they sting, they harm and cause pain. I wish they could learn restraint from the bees. 

 In his small book The Art of Pastoring, Bill Martin says this: 

I have often wished that martial arts were taught in seminary…. As a martial arts student, I was taught that a true artist strikes only under extreme necessity and always with the minimum force necessary to protect himself. I was also taught that if I ever have to strike, I have lost.