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Writer's picturealwalsh

Buzzzz

Another Tuesday, another story. I’ve been asked to write something about the environment. A huge topic for a little story so, after much thought, I’m going to focus on one of the stars of the show, the little bumble bee. Here is a conversation ‘overheard’ in a back garden near you.

p.s. Don't forget to come back for a new story every Tuesday and, remember, you can suggest a topic via the comments or the email: tellingtalltales@outlook.com


Buzzzz


‘Oh, hello Bibi!’

‘Hi, Bell. What’s buzzing?’

‘Not much. Just busy looking for the best flowers, you know. The usual. What about you?’

‘Same. Seems to get harder every day. Fewer flowers, longer distances to cover.’

‘I hear you, sister. I hear you’.

The two bees sat, each on a clover leaf, pondering the problems of their life. It was good to take a rest between flowers. They were getting older, not quite the fresh-faced youngsters of a couple of weeks ago.

‘I hear, back in the day, it used to be easy to find lots of nectar and pollen.’

Bibi gazed wistfully around the walled garden that had been her home since she was a little nipper.

Bell nodded, taking a moment to clean her left antenna between two of her legs before answering.

‘Queenie was saying the same thing the other hour. She says it’s to do with the two-leggeders. You know, the ones who are always rushing around digging or clearing or felling.’

‘I know the ones you mean. I’m always having to avoid those. They don’t seem to like having us around too much, always swiping me away if I get too close.’

‘Well, Queenie says it’s because they think we’re going to sting them.’

‘Why on earth would we do such a thing? Don’t they know it would hurt us more than them?’

‘I blame our cousins, the wasps. They’ve given us some bad press, you know. Always angry about something or other, that lot.’

‘And they can sting anytime they like!’

‘Yea. But we die when we do so we’ve got to be careful.’

‘I wish we could tell them there’s nothing to fear. That they need us as much as we need them.’

‘Yea. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to talk to them, tell them to leave us a few more flowers, not to mow the lawn quite so often, leave us to go about our day without any worries?’

Again, the two bee-friends fell silent, each lost in deep thoughts about the challenges of inter-species communication.

‘You know, Bell, I’m going to try to get through to one of them.’

‘Really? What are you going to say? And how are you going to say it? That’s what I want to know.’

‘Eazzzy! I’m just going to go over to that one over there. You see him? Rushing around in this heat. Yea, I’m going up to him and I’m going to buzz right at him.’

‘This I’ve got to see! Off you go. Beee very careful, though. It could be dangerous, Bibi.’

Bell watched as her friend flew off in the direction of the two leggeder who’d been working in the garden all morning, digging a deep hole in the ground. Bell chuckled as she watched Bibi get closer, swerving to avoid a hand that tried to swipe her away and she laughed out loud when she caught the words Bibi buzzed out as they wafted over in the breeze. It was just one instruction, the most important in a Bee’s life. Bibi shouted with every fibre of her bee existence, buzzing right in front of the chosen two-leggeder:

‘Hey, brother, look at me! Don’t be so busy. You can JUST BEEEEE.’

Meanwhile, from inside the nearby house, Mary was watching in amazement as her husband, John, stood transfixed in the middle of the garden. It looked as if a bee had landed on his nose. Mary rushed out to see if he was alright.

‘John, what’s the matter, honey? Are you okay?’

John laughed and pointed at his new-found friend as she flew away, startled at the arrival of another two-leggeder.

‘I’m fine, Mary, never better. T’was the darndest thing. For a minute I thought I heard the tiniest little voice saying something but, see, it was just a bee.’



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