Aselin

I haven’t had much luck with things that fly. I find them fascinating and beautiful, but somehow they don’t return the Karma.

This beautiful spring day I’m in my kitchen, with my back door open to the splendor that is Arizona spring. I’m minding my own business (which means I wasn’t cleaning up like I should have been) when a ... I don’t know what to call it - flock? Herd? Hive? of bees flies in.

I looked it up, it’s a swarm, duh.

So, a swarm of bees flies in to the kitchen. Immediately I remember a documentary I saw about Africanized bees taking over the Southwest and I’m filled with a conflicted fight or flight instinct. Sanook the dog is no help, he lays on the floor oblivious to our imminent danger. Now to be fair, there were only eight bees, but we were still outnumbered 4 to 1, and if this gang of eight (political pun intended) are Africanized mercenaries and have plans to take dog and I hostage, there’s not much we can do.

My nine year old wanders in, and like the dog, she’s completely unaware of our peril. I resist the urge to tackle her, shielding her with my body, protecting her like a good mother should. I choose to remain frozen wondering if bees are like birds and only see movement. I learned this from the movie Jurassic Park. This knowledge saved the paleontologists and likely will save me. Oh, and my child.

After a few moments of casing the joint, the swarm is attracted to the large windows in the breakfast area. I’m sure they are attempting to signal reinforcements so they can take over the whole house. It would indeed make a nice hive, and now that they’ve checked it out they’d like to set up camp. While my monthly honey bill would certainly decrease, I don’t think they’d make good roommates. I’m trying to decide if invoking the Third Amendment will have any binding power on bees.

Clearly I need to man-up in order to save my home and family. Switching from statue-mode to stealth-mode I escape into the yard. Removing the screens from the windows I sneak back inside, and tell the bees to leave. One immediately obeys while the others ignore me, kind of like my parenting. Gently wielding a magazine in each hand I coax the intruders toward the open windows. They fight me with everything they’ve got. Stubborn bees.

As I prod the last bee out the window to the cheers of my adoring public I sigh with relief. The dog and child are mightily impressed. Locking the house up tight I press my face against the windowpane. This is the first time living in an orange grove seems not such a great idea. This showdown will likely have a repeat. Mark my words bees, I’ll be ready for you next time.