Flight Log of the Bumblebee
(with apologies to the original author)
There's about 35 acres of land around my pine tree that has been tied up in probate for over six years. The lawyer involved had this on his back burner so it took about four years longer than it should have. No skin off my nose (if I had one); it was none of my bees-ness, as we like to say.
The lawyer finished the probate enough that this fellow Sherrill was able to get clear title to 11 1/2 acres. He bought it. The land was originally a soy bean farm but for the last six years it grew unmolested. That was fine with me, too, of course.
Then the trouble began. Sherrill set out clearing about six acres of it because, I hear, he wanted his own dove field and might put a steer or two out there. A hog pen is also a possibility. Word around the hive is that he sold a few Smiths and bought a used Kubota and a bush hog and a disk. Me and my boys all watched from a distance while he bush hogged most of it but in the last six years trees grew up that were too big even for a mean ol' cuss like him to run over with the tractor. The remaining trees he cut with a chain saw -- including the one that I had been living in before he even thought about buying the land -- and piled up to burn. He left 'em to dry some before piling them up and this is where I decided payback was gonna bee in order.
I'm Momma Bumblebee, and I didn't take kindly to having my pine tree cut down and left out to dry. So when Sherrill went out there yesterday to put some of the trees on the burn pile, I bided my time and let him think he was doing OK for awhile until he got to one small pine tree. As he moved it I fired up my motor to let him know hell was comin' to breakfast.
He heard a buzzing noise and saw me in all my yellow and black glory flying in circles around him. Before he could take evasive action I popped him through the cotton short pants he was wearing. As he was then taking what he calls "full evasive action" (running like hell on his two knee replacements, which made me giggle a little until I got back to bees-ness) he could see me flying in circles around him looking for a good point to attack. Like many of the humaoids, he thought "these damn things had only one stinger" but as all of us know, this is deliberate misinformation generated and spread by the intelligence arm of our BIA.
Sherrill must've been reading some WWII books about naval battles in the South Pacific because for some reason in his panic he started zig-zagging like an aircraft carrier in a Kamikaze attack. I say "aircraft carrier," because Sherrill is not a small person, and his weaving abilities were more akin to slow-motion lurches than zigs and zags. So, taking the opportunity, I dived and hit him again, this time on his arm.
Sherrill kept "running," apparently thinking distance might help some but I was a momma whose home had been taken down by him, and I was relentless. Distance didn't mean anything to me. I hung in there and pursued even after Sherrill was at least 100 yards away from the original attack. I got him again on the right ear.
By now he was back near the house and for some reason he thought the garden hose might help. Before he got there, I got him right spang on the nose. Then he started to spray the hose on himself and me, which was easy because I now I was just toying with him. I made like I was gonna finally leave him alone, and I dropped back to evaluate the tactical situation while Sherrill doctored himself inside the house.
You shoulda seen him by then -- puffed up ear, puffed up nose, puffed up arm, and I'm sure his keister was puffed up inside those cotton shorts where I'd hit him on the bum on my first pass. After a few minutes he must have thought I had given up but he was wrong. I flew in with the sun at my back and hit him on the other ear, giving his face a nicely balanced puffiness that satisfied me my work was done.
Woudn't you know it, though. Today Sherrill comes back to my neighborhood wearing long pants, sleeves, insect repellant, and a mosquito net over his straw hat just in case. But you can bet that he left my tree alone to avoid another fight. I guess we know who won this round!
