Tales From the Farm, Part 3: The Contraption

Thank you for joining me in the third installment of Tales From the Farm. As I mentioned previously, this one won't involve any gruesome goat or cat deaths so please feel free to read further without experiencing nightmares.

Although the farm can provide children with hours of entertainment, there are days when said children get bored and are forced to tap deep into the recesses of their imaginations. What resides in those recesses is usually best left alone. To bring them to the surface and act upon them almost always ends in disaster....as is the case in today's story.

It was summer....the primary season in which childhood boredom reaches a fever pitch. My brother's friend, Chris, was over at our house and the two of them were playing outside. I was sprawled out on the couch watching re-runs of The Monkees (don't judge), when they burst into the house and started pulling my dad's hunting attire and other winter gear out of the closet. I asked what they were doing and they excitedly shared their plan for the day. There was a bee hive across the street in a tree in our aunt and uncle's yard. And apparently, that bee hive needed to be destroyed. So, they hatched a plan to put on layers and layers of winter clothing (complete with boots, gloves and ski masks) and use baseball bats to eradicate the intolerable hive.

I must interject that I am a major animal lover (although I'm not a vegetarian....I know, I'm a hypocrite...so be it). This includes insects...even insects I am terrified of. This is best demonstrated by the time I used a mere newspaper to carry a wolf spider the size of my hand from our bathtub to our yard. I am TERRIFIED of spiders. And that wolf spider could have jumped from that newspaper to my face in about .7 seconds. But I knew that leaving him there would mean certain death so I did what was necessary to spare his measly spider existence. Oh, and my brother and I named him Willis....because every creature deserves a name. I wish I was joking. So, given my love of God's creatures, I was somewhat appalled at the idea of Operation Bee Removal. But I was also strangely intrigued when Jimmy and Chris mentioned they would need a safe place to escape to between hive attacks. Amongst this discussion, the contraption was born.

The contraption was brilliantly simple....Three open umbrellas hooked together at the handles and fanned out to create a shield just large enough for three small bodies: Jimmy, Chris and.....me. Yes, I was put in charge of the contraption (and we actually did name it "the contraption"...that isn't just a catchy title for this post). I took my job very seriously. Just like Jimmy and Chris, I donned layers of winter clothing in the sweltering July heat. I positioned myself on the downward slope of the side of my aunt and uncle's yard....and I waited. The first couple of blows went according to plan. The contraption seemed to be doing its job. And then, it all went horribly, horribly wrong (I know, shocking, right?) First, Chris was hit....a sting right between the eyes. And then, the bees were onto us. They found the contraption and they were NOT happy. We all scattered.

I am as scared of bees as I am of spiders, probably even more so. I was stung numerous times as a kid and I knew how badly it hurt. So, I ran. I ran so fast I felt dizzy. My first hiding place was behind a tree on the other side of the yard. But I could still hear the menacing sound in my ears...BZZZZZZZ. So I took off running again. This time I took refuge in a nearby tractor shed. Again....BZZZZZZZ. And then behind a propane tank....BZZZZZZ. I probably hid in 5 different locations and I was chased by the bees EVERY SINGLE TIME. Finally, I made it back to our house (not sure why I didn't go there to begin with). I no longer heard the buzzing sound, so I felt it was safe to shed the winter clothing and pretend like none of this ever happened. Just as I re-claimed my spot on the couch, I heard it....BZZZZZZZ. One lone bee had managed to follow me into the house and he was banging into the nearby window. I did not feel bad when I put him out of his misery....or rather, my misery.

I'm sure the three of us had a "debriefing" session at some point in which it was decided that Operation Bee Removal was an embarrassing and mildly life-threatening failure. Although we all had regrets, I think we bonded that day. We had set out on a dangerous mission and we had survived. And we learned an important lesson: Don't tangle with bees because they will MESS YOU UP. You won't learn that watching The Monkees.

Toodles,

Brooke