nocturne for the bees

A bee clump appeared the other evening. A big fuzzy mass, in a perfect circle. On the ceiling of the patio corridor. I learnt of it from the building group chat. Someone sent a photo.

One neighbor flipped out. She called the manager, this being an emergency. She yelped she is allergic.

Someone else researched the shape. Turns out such a clump means a community of bees have lost their hive, so they create a makeshift protection around the queen while scout bees look for a new home. Little homeless bees! I walked by them on my way home, took a peep. A big fuzzy mass, in a perfect circle. Very sweet when you consider the context.

Saw the flipper outter by the elevator. She flipped out about the bees more. I said, walk the other way. Just go another direction. She said she was allergic again. I do understand.

I find a beekeeping organization and contact them. I don't hear back right away. Beekeeping is a slow game. Online there are a lot of organizations that take bees, but not for free--huge misconception. It's very expensive to get bees ethically removed, which is insane.

The next day there's a pile of dead bees on the ground. No bees on the ceiling. Scattered friends toward the pool. I'm sure management had the handyman spray and that was that. Devastating.

At AB's Friday her cat hopped up toward the end of our session. The kitty batted her paws around. AB cheered, "Get it!" AB explained, "Sometimes she hunts bugs! And..." she trailed off, realizing that I might have an objection to killing bugs. And UGH SHE WOULD BE RIGHT WOULDN'T SHE BE?! I explained I consider cats killing bugs the laws of nature.

When we were about a month into our partnership a bird flew straight into her window while we were writing. I was deeply disturbed because the bird would probably die. AB was deeply disturbed by the omen of a bird committing suicide in front of us while we were writing a horror movie.

She had a brief appointment stop by, so I said, casually, "I'm gonna go be with the bird." AB didn't know me well enough to say anything but, "Okay!" I sat with the bird and even stroked her little back. She closed her tiny bird eyes, and I sat chatting with her. After a few more minutes AB came outside. She looked concerned, but I got the sense she was more concerned about me than the critter.

And then! The bird blinked away, and hopped into the sky and wobbled and then bobbled and then FLEW! The bird zipped off to a tree across the back valley. We were both like, "Oh! Well look at that!" I washed my hands and we were able to get back to it.

I confessed to AB last week I'd worried that day. If the bird had died, she would have seen me react so so badly. Maybe the whole thing would have been off. I remembered/said, how in my first ever week of summer camp a girl killed a spider in front of me, and I cried all night. And I was made to feel psycho, but I still don't understand why. The joke is, cruelty is supposed to be neutral?! (Dramatic. Puhg has started calling me a new nickname lately: "Drama." He's not wrong.)

At a meeting Thursday morning the videographer suddenly clapped the air. "Fruit fly," she said. I was taken aback. I know I'm intense, but I'm also just against senseless murder--sue me I guess. What was the bee's crime while we're at it? Existing on a planet where a woman is allergic? A big fuzzy mass, in a perfect circle.