It could be properly assumed that the title of this post implies its contents are composed from the perspective of a honey bee. However, though the honey bee’s thoughts on life are intriguing, I’m sure, and no less valid, I am a poor observer of the thoughts of others, especially those of another form. Less excitingly, perhaps, then, I will speak on my perspective of the honey bee, not examining all of its tremendous traits, but only a few.
I will also speak from memory. Considering I was fascinated by a group of honey bees, too busy to say hello, no doubt, a few days ago, I do not have the “material” at hand. I find it amazing that one can draw from the well of memory, in both describing many different things, and also assigning some value to them in their storage, being either of positive value or negative–and neutral as well, though less commonly.
Anyways, less about “that” and more about “this”. My observations of the honey bee are as follows: first, that he was exceedingly busy, too busy to even say hello, as was previously mentioned; second, that he was a community worker, not excelling in isolated labor, as do the tiger and the eagle; third, that he was rather frustrated when I picked him up, since it kept him from his labor; fourth, that he didn’t mind the company of other creatures, but also did not seem very attached to them, as are the lions of a pride to one other; fifth, that he was singly-devoted to the task before him, so much so, that he would immediately return to his work each time I picked him up, not bothering to notice the threat I imposed on his life.
At the time that I began to bother his very serious work, he was passing between one wrinkleleaf goldenrod and another, gathering their rich pollen and nectar stores, in preparation for the coming winter months. He would spend a few moments scavenging the flowering head of one, then pass to another, seeking the same treasure as before. He did not seem overly burdened by his task, but seemed grateful to be part of the tending of his master’s garden.
I wondered at what may be learned from such a small creature, and what secrets he knew that I had yet to discover. Humanity is, after all, such a complex child, often rebelling against her own design. We are such clever creatures, bearing the mark of one who is greater–perhaps we are so clever as to forget who we are.
#27
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