Beneath the desire to keep bees there lies an even more secret… even more primal… desire. It’s the archetypal — dare I say, boyhood — desire that leaks out in the fury of a brave dream filled with rescue and danger and buxom lonely maidens.
It’s the dream to become a hero. And in this case, a bee hero.
You’ve seen it in the machismo of a bare-armed swarm rescue. Or the bravado of a bee-wrangler when the cameras are rolling.
I spied it this morning as my husband donned his bee suit on the way to capture yet another bee swarm. In his mind’s eye, he was apparently a massive, bee-eating robot off to save the world as he hummed to himself while suiting up, “Transformers… more than meets the eye. Transformers, robots in disguise.”
Indeed, from mere mortal to giant white bee-snatching robot in the zip of a zipper. Believe me, your children are all now much safer.