The day the bees won
A Memorial Day mishap that sent one of us to the ER.
I was hesitant to share this story so soon after it happened, but there is an element of community resilience in it that I think makes it worth telling.
On Monday, Frank and I had a run-in with our backyard bees.
That’s the polite way to say it.
A more accurate description: We were harvesting honey, and the bees got their revenge.
Our backyard hive had gotten fairly large over the past two years. We didn’t harvest honey last year, so we knew the supers would be full. It’s a task that takes a lot of work, and we should have done it when the weather was cooler.
Alas, if we didn’t do it this week, it wasn’t going to get done, so we made plans for Honey Day on Monday. We had a good breakfast and then suited up, each of us making sure the other’s suit didn’t have any holes in it.
We got to work carefully pulling the frames out of the boxes, keeping an eye out for the queen and the brood, or eggs, that the bees might have laid in the honeycomb.
Even though I had a great-uncle who was a beekeeper, I know very little about beekeeping. Frank’s dad kept bees, so he’s the one who started a backyard hive about eight years.
He’s the one in charge of the whole operation, but I’ve been fully supportive over the years. I know he has loved carrying on this tradition of his dad’s. Both of the kids have helped at times, and although it seemed like a somewhat risky hobby, it didn’t seem dangerous.
Things were going smoothly on Monday, but then a bee snuck into Frank’s suit, so he had to leave the area to get it out. I kept working, feeling proud of myself for staying calm in the middle of the buzzing that seemed louder than I remember it being before.
Frank returned, but by this point, I’d gotten a couple of stings through the bonnet of my suit. It seemed like even more of them were getting into my suit, so I stepped away to try to sort myself out.
I thought I was far enough away from the hive to try to get the bees out, but as soon as I opened my suit a little, they didn’t waste any time getting in. Before I knew it, I was getting stung all over my face and scalp.
By this time, Frank was trying to help me, but then he was getting stung in the chaos of it all. The situation quickly devolved. His immune system went into overdrive.
We called our neighbors and Frank’s sister for help. I was feeling OK but knew I couldn’t drive him to the hospital if he needed it. I wasn’t even sure if I could rightly assess whether or not he needed to go.
That’s when I started feeling the effects from the bee venom, mostly nausea. I rested for the next few hours under the watch of our wonderful neighbor, who supplied me with liquids and a sense of safety that if I needed further treatment, she could help me get it.
During that time, Frank’s reaction only got worse, so it was clear that he needed to go to urgent care. I found out later that they then sent him to the ER, where they stabilized him with epinephrine. His sister texted me that he was going to be OK; they just wanted to keep him for a few hours just in case.
The hours passed. His sister brought me miso soup.
By the time he got home, I was feeling like a human again. He was hyped up on the steroids. We’d already decided, independently and together, that we would be getting rid of the bees. I found the Austin Area Beekeepers Association on Facebook and posted about our need for a hive removal. Within 10 minutes, we had four people who had offered to come get the bees.
By 8 a.m. the next day, and a sweet woman showed up at our house with her bee suit to relieve us of these little pollinators we’d loved but knew it was time to relinquish.
Her enthusiasm for bees — and this incredibly generous act of taking them for free — was a salve for our souls. We’ve always been such champions of these bees, but we’d also just gone through this scary ordeal. His cheeks were still a little swollen; I was still pulling stingers out. My nervous system would take a few days to fully settle down.
It was such a relief to know that we could reach out to folks in our community to ask for help. From the neighbors who saved the day in the moment to the strangers who spent hours on Tuesday moving the bees to their new home, not to mention the medical team that took care of Frank when he was at his worst.
Our new bee friend made this video during the removal process:
All this time investing in the gift economy and building community capital, if not community karma, feels increasingly important as the years go by. We had been dreaming about what we wanted to do with all the honey we harvested this year, but in the end, we gave it all away, which was ultimately worth more than whatever value the honey — or the bees — might have held.
And on Tuesday night, when the bee heroes had come back for their second load of bees, Frank was sending them home with plates of food and his homemade wine.
It was the very least we could do to say thank you.
But they were also saying thanks to us.
Read more about the gift economy on The Invisible Thread:
Little food pantries redefine what it means to be a good neighbor
Moving is hell, but I'm in Buy Nothing heaven
Propagating abundance at one of Austin's newest plant stands
A stitch in time that almost wasn't
It’s hard to believe, but we’re on the cusp of June.
That means it’s been three years since I left my full-time newspaper job to become an independent writer (and dog-walker, PR consultant, and tarot card reader). Writing this newsletter continues to bring me so much joy, and I’m so grateful to all the folks who have supported my work over the years.
I’m getting to work on the next edition of zine, which I’m hoping to mail by the end of June. If you want to buy single copies of previous zines, you can do so here.
After issues about birthdays and fabric, this next theme is roots. (I’m sure none of you are surprised about that one. 😉 )
As I wrap up the week, some of my sting sites are still a little tender, but I’m feeling much better. Frank was doing well enough to go through with a planned hernia surgery that, once you’ve been to the ER from a bee attack, seems like a piece of cake.
Thanks for all your warm wishes. You all are an important part of my community, and I’m so grateful for each and every one of you.
Addie
Oh my gosh! What a crazy situation, so glad you both were able to survive. Glad your community came to the rescue. Austin does have a good bee tribe.
As they say here in Czech Republic, 'Ježiš Maria!' You poor babies. I'm glad the terrible effects didn't last too long. —Mel