“Take time to smell the roses and eventually you’ll inhale a bee” – unknown

Some people have rainbows, or fairies, or little men with bad tempers and pointy hats at the bottom of their gardens.  We have bees.  Well, to be more precise, we have a beehive, and every garden within a two-mile radius now has bees.

It all started in the early evening a few months ago.  I was leaving the office a little later than usual and heard a deep, dull buzzing in a nearby bush.   Aha!  That’s a bee swarm!  I better call my friend Dwayne (not his real name).  As an amateur beekeeper, Dwayne is always on the lookout for these clusters of homeless Apis Mellifera (or bees to youse less educated lot).

Anyways – long story short – as expected, Dwayne collected the swarm and rehomed the little critters in a sturdy looking wooden box.  What wasn’t expected, however, was that he then proceeded to relocate said box to Chez Graham.  “It’s like this,” Dwayne explained, “I can’t fit any more hives at my place, and you have the perfect spot behind your shed.  Don’t worry, you won’t even know they’re there.”

As it turns out, we’ve quite enjoyed displaying our bees to visiting friends and family, and explaining to small children that the 40,000 bees in the hive all have names.  When they ask the obvious question, we explain “well, there’s B1, B2, B3 … oh, look – that’s B15732 over there right now!”  Some jokes just never get old!

Then, there was Friday.  The day of “The Great Hive Robbery” (or maybe better named “Close Encounters of the Forty Thousand Kind”).  Yes, it was time for Dwayne to open the hive and remove a portion of the honey, which he assures us is surplus to the bees’ requirements.

At the appointed hour, Dwayne arrives, dressed in what looks like a spacesuit for astronauts on a tight budget.  He explains that the suit is just a precaution, as he’ll relax the bees with soothing vapours from his special ‘smoker’.  I’m a little dubious, partly because the smoker appears to be held together by ancient duct tape, but more so because Dwayne also tells us he was stung five times the day before.  But, he’s the expert, so who am I to question scientific procedure.

All goes according to plan – for a while.  From what we assume is a safe distance, we gasp in awe as Dwayne lifts the lid of the hive to reveal an intricate pattern of honeycomb.  Our neighbour, who Nanette has invited to watch the momentous occasion from across the low wire fence is also looking impressed.

“Good thing I came,” calls Dwayne as he puffs around the hive with his ailing smoker. “These little guys have been really busy and …”  We don’t hear the rest.  Bzzz, Phht, Zttt, Aagh! Aagh! Ouch!  Three angry bees have flashed across the yard and attacked my ear!  I know I’m responsible for one of the “Aaghs”, but I’m sure I didn’t make the other noises.  I look back quickly as I rush towards the house.  Yep, Nanette has been stung too and is hot on my heels.  And, what’s worse, our neighbour is also dashing home with one hand clasped to his neck.  Dwayne soldiers bravely on for a bit before finally admitting defeat and retreating to his car with a small collection of frames dripping with honey.  As he brushes the last few angry bees from his suit, he calls “I’ll bring you the honey tomorrow!” then disappears down the drive in a cloud of dust and swirling, buzzing, angry insects.

Epilogue.  It’s now Sunday afternoon.  We’re all feeling much better and reckon we’ve learned some important lessons. 1 – antihistamines are great, but they’re no substitute for a really good spacesuit – preferably worn while safely locked inside your house.  2 – When you’re playing with bees, heavy ‘smoker-ing’ can actually be good for your health.  And, finally, 3 – a generous gift of fresh, home-grown honey does wonders for neighbourly relations.