Now that I had taken my first flight into the blue, I felt at last that
the world had truly opened for me, and that I was a real bee with duties
and responsibilities—and without hesitation I accepted them. Rushing
around in uncontrolled delight, I heard again the laden workers murmuring
about the great stores of honey they were taking. It seemed, from what I
could gather, that practically all the workers of the hive were directing
their course to this new, rich field.
I was listening as hard as ever I might to all this converse, when an
important bee cried out:
“Why don’t you get to work?”
Up to that moment I had done nothing nor had I even then thought of it,
but at the suggestion I made off, following to the entrance and then
into the air a worker bound for the unknown treasure-field. I got off a
little more slowly than he, but to my surprise I found I could easily
outfly him. We had gone but a short distance when he began to descend,
and, with no ceremony, landed at the same instant on the alighting-board
of a strange hive where a thousand bees were struggling. I discovered
immediately that many of the bees around were strangers to me and that
all acted like mad—pushing, pulling, and fighting. Some were struggling
to get in and some to get out. I saw at once that those outward bound
were heavily laden with honey, and that they had to fight the hungry
bees scrambling for a taste of the nectar. I collided with an old fellow
heavily loaded and was about to attack him, when he hurled me aside. I
was now aflame with the passion of acquisition. Honey I must have, even
if it cost my life!
I scrambled along with the rest to get in and finally succeeded. But
there the trouble began. Whether it was because I looked young or was
really ignorant of the procedure, the first thing I knew a bad-tempered,
elderly bee attacked me. I learned long afterward that he was one of the
last survivors of the colony, fighting to the end. First, he seized me by
the leg, but I kicked him off; then, undaunted, he got me by the wing in
such a way that I could not shake him, and the next thing I knew he was
about to sting me. Other bees were rushing pell-mell over us. I felt the
tiniest prick of his stinger, and then with a supreme effort I escaped
his clutches. I rushed away from the spot and soon came upon a batch
of honey over which it appeared ten thousand bees were quarreling and
fighting. Without thinking, I fell into the scrimmage and by some chance
finally landed on a half-filled cell, and into it I plunged.
Here my troubles began afresh. Hundreds of bees piled on top of me and
all but drowned me in the honey I was intent on possessing. For a minute
my head was buried in it and I began to strangle. But by a mighty effort
I escaped.
It was almost as difficult to get out of the hive as it was in; and on
my return journey a hungry, malevolent bee intercepted me and demanded
that I divide my load with him. On my refusing he seized me by a wing
and jerked me so violently that I thought he had all but torn it off.
I fought him from the start, but, he being a stalwart and I heavily
laden, he thrashed me almost into a lifeless state. To add to my terrible
mischance, another freebooter, more vicious than the first, joined
against me, and the two of them overcame me quickly and robbed me of my
load. They left me half senseless and I was only too glad to escape with
my life.
I flew as straight as an arrow to my home, feeling outraged and
exhausted. After all, I was not powerful—not important. I was
crestfallen; but I did not even have to think of the direction or the
location of my house, and you may be assured I was glad to return to it,
if only to make sure that I was alive and knew the road. At the same time
I was still under the impression that I had some honey in my sac. Nobody
had taught me how to unload it, but I went forward to a cell. Imagine
how downcast I was to find that not an atom of honey had been left me!
I was infuriated; so resolved at once to try again. Hurriedly I went
to the place for another load, but found the bees had nearly all gone.
Once inside, I discovered that not a drop of honey remained, hence the
reason for their leaving. I was wandering about when a poor crippled bee
approached. Could this be one of the rascals that robbed me and who had
suffered a worse fate?
“Won’t you have pity on me and let me go home with you?” he said,
sorrowfully. “I’m all alone in the world.”
His tone and request cut me deeply; he was clearly no robber, for I saw
that he was broken-hearted and had but five legs—one of his basket-legs
was missing. And how wretched he looked!
“Have you no home?” I asked, with compassion.
“This was my home, but you and ten thousand like you have destroyed it.
There wasn’t much left of it, though, when our Queen-Mother died.”