Bumble Bee Thoughts

Today I saw the first bumble bee of the season and looked to see whether his face was black. Why? Because of my great uncle Charlie.



He must have given me the advice about bumble bees well before I was 5 years old since he died about the time of my fifth birthday. I remember being afraid of bumble bees when I was little and he told me I had to worry about a bumble bee stinging me only if he had a black face. Of course, I never could tell about the color of the face; they always looked yellow to me! Is it true? Are there black-faced bumble bees. I don't know, and that's not the important part of the lesson.


Bumble bees make a big boring buzzing sound and fly slowly; in some ways they remind me of helicoptors. The most memorable bumble bee experience in my life occurred about 15 months before my great uncle died. It was a hot summer day in the Shenandoah Valley. A wooden rocking chair, a favorite of uncle Charlie, was waiting for us on the back porch; I would sit and he would rock and tell stories and smoke his pipe. Of course, being a Southern child, I called him "Unk Chalie." It was years before I would learn the "correct" pronunciation of those words. It surprised me to learn his name when written contained the letter r!


The busy bumble bee started, about mid-morning, burrowing a hole into the wooden seat of uncle's favorite rocking chair. As the doy progress "Unk" and I peeked. The busy-boy bumble bee noise continued as he bored a hole deeper into the wood. The seat was a couple of inches thick and he disappeared below the surface. I was as impressed by this magic as by any trick that my amateur-magician father performed. The noise continued for hours.



Finally, my kind-hearted uncle became concerned that the bee might burrow too deeply and be unable to get out. So, he took his pocket knife and and cut into the wood to free the bumbling bumble bee.


What an experience. My uncle, who had been one of the original Forest Service employees, had been willing to let a bumble bee put a hole in his favorite rocking chair to give me a nature lesson. And he was willing to damage the chair even more to free the bee.





From my great uncle I learned to observe and respect life. How many people today would be willing to teach a child such a lesson?