I am a beekeeper. It’s getting close to a decade now. I was so excited when I got my first hive. I had always wanted to be a beekeeper. I have childhood memories of my great grandpa being a beekeeper. He didn’t own or wear a bee suit. I have no memory of him being stung. I think he was a bee-whisperer. I was always fascinated by his ability with the bees.

For me, I was going to take a different route. I was going to attend a bee keeping course. Before I had a chance to look into one, a great deal happened my way. The price was right and the owner was an ag teacher. He met my concerns with the reassurance he would work with me and offer guidance (fyi: never saw the guy again). So, I learned the tried and true way... by trial and error. I’m happy to say, that was the only hive I ever bought. All others were from my own splits or catching bees on my own. But, I regress… With my first hive, I decided they needed better boxes. My boxes arrived. I was at work and I had gotten hurt. I had a concussion. I didn’t want to, but they sent me home. Instead of taking it easy like a normal person, I decided to use this unexpected time to go ahead and move my bees over to the new hive.

How could that possibly be a recipe for disaster?

With my suit, my smoke, and a “can do” attitude, I walked out to start the process of transfer. I had read it was important to move slowly with bees. I took this to heart. I slowly moved frame to frame over to the new hive. During this time, the smoke also went out. More and more bees angrily surrounded me. My high-end designer industrial bee suit which promised to be 100% sting proof.. was full of crap.

I got stung on the butt, under my arms, my hands, my legs, ankles.. you name it, it was accessible. The whole time, as I am increasingly being coated in thousands of bees, I’m still trying to follow the book and move slowly and surely. I didn’t want to accidentally crush a bee in the move to their new home.

My anxiety was also increasing with the stings, noise and weight of hundreds of angry, pissed off bees coating my suit.

Somehow, I finished. There was no way I could return to the house.

I still had bees on me and buzzing around me. So, I walked across the yard, sat down and waited a good thirty minutes for them to finally leave me. I went inside. Later, I came back outside to admire my handiwork from across the yard. To my horror, I hadn’t gotten the lid on straight.

I Googled for some advice. It said if you are being attacked by bees, zig zag between trees and buildings as you run away. Obstacles will help. (I’m not making this up.) So, I decided that evening when it got dark, I would sneak back to the hive and straighten the lid.

Darkness arrived, I put on the suit. I put on Steve’s big rubber boots. Gloved up. Me and my curious canine headed for the hive. I started to straighten the lid. (Insert scary music here) Out came the bees. They didn’t give a damn that it was dark. They were still pissed to high heaven.

I ran for my life. Our dog ran for his. I remembered the advice of Google. I ran. I did loops and zig zagged around trees... no relief. I hit the back gate to the track, and under the moonlight.. I ran the whole track in Steve’s big rubber boots as fast as my legs could carry me. Some of the damn bees followed me.

By this time, I am exhausted. Ever try running in a three layered hot suit, in the summer, in ill fitting rubber boots?

I ran back across the yard headed for the back door screaming, “Open the Door! Open the Door!” My loving spouse had tears in his eyes. He was all choked up, “Are you ok?” he said.

But, his face told a different story. He was laughing so hard I thought he was going to bust a gut.

I was telling him, “kill them, Kill them, KILL them, get them off me!!” as he was turning me around swatting them. (In my opinion, he was doing a piss poor job because he was too busy laughing.)

When it was finally safe to get out of the suit, I asked him why he was laughing so hard. Don’t get me wrong, he was definitely concerned. The man was just caught between trying to show concern and being highly tickled. Steve then told me … as I was running around the track in the oversized bee suit and boots, I was moving in slow motion and I looked just like the Pillsbury DoughBoy from Ghostbusters.

Adventure … it comes in all sizes. And, I love memories.