Bees

06/04/08

At a whim a few months ago, I spoke with a cantankerous old beekeeper who is half Samoan but grew up in New Zealand, about my desire to take up his passion of apiary. Well today he showed up ready to deliver some buzzing beehives. Hold on a minute, Lester! Before we plop these swarming masses in the back of my garden, I had better: 1) get agreement from my host family, and 2) at least see what beekeeping is about before assuming ownership of two queens and her legends of workers. “No problem”, says Lester, as I get into his vintage pickup, don a beekeeper’s outfit, and head for his hives.

I learned a lot about bees as I stood, smoker in hand, as hundreds, least I say thousands/millions, of workers protested the taking of their labors. The first lesson learned was that it would take more than 10 minutes a month to tend to the hives as Lester said. The second lesson was that according to Lester, beekeepers are known for their longevity since honey, especially Royal Jelly, increases just about everything. The third lesson was that the venom from the bee sting is what Viagra synthetically reproduces. The fourth lesson was, “Why not?” what else am I going to do for the next 15 months.

Lester is to return next month with the hives. In the meantime I need to convince my host family and village folks that bees are harmless and beneficial, and the matai of the Village Council that bee stings make you more potent than your wife ever feared. Lester left me with a bottle of his Samoan honey and a cloud of pickup fumes.