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When we were young, we loved to walk down the worn path that led
us into the woods. The crystalline creek tumbled among the
boulder rocks in the days we rode rope swings and dug our heels
into the cool sand of the streambed. In the spring, redbuds and
dogwoods swayed in the bracing breeze. Every fall, a blaze of
red and gold filled the forest where fallen leaves crunched
beneath our feet.
Among the billowing clouds , migrating birds headed south to a
summer land protected from winter winds. It was one of
those colorful days of late fall, that we discovered honeybees
nesting high in an old hollow hickory tree. There seemed to be a
sense of urgency in their activity. Although the meadows and
roadsides were still abloom with asters and goldenrods, these
last vestiges of the floral season were quickly disappearing.
We
admired the industry of these insects and mused as to what
treasures they had stored. A flood of excitement entered when
someone suggested we cut down the ancient tree and examine the
nest more closely. Soon, the hickory felt the bite of our
cross-cut saw. After cutting half-way into the tree, the old
hickory splintered and ejected the bees and honeycombs onto the
ground. Thousands of confused stinging insects prompted us to
scramble toward home. At dawn, on the following day, we returned
to the site.
The
bees had cleaned themselves up and assembled upon a fallen
branch. We adorned ourselves with home-made screen veils, heavy
clothing, and work gloves. The heat was terrible but protection
was considered advisable. The bees, surprisingly, did not attack
us as we slid a gunny over them and the limb. In a nearby
pasture, a sun bleached beehive was retrieved.
The
previous owner had abandoned the empty boxes. Therefore, we
considered him relieved. Many beekeepers prefer that” gray,
weathered look” to their equipment. Like the beehives they
manage, beekeepers have withstood storms, summer heat, and
howling winter winds to become nature-proof to whatever
challenge may present itself.
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