Carrol Vertrees: Farm kid’s reverie buzzes with simplicity

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Carrol Vertrees

Updated: November 11, 2011 4:46PM

I never quite caught on to the birds and bees story, but I am probably not the only one who grew up in a kind of ignorance. It is getting late, too.

Birds fascinate me, but it is the busy, buzzing bee that really stirs my imagination. Bumble bees, especially.

I think they are out there pollinating, jumping from one flower to another, but it still is a mystery to me. They aren’t mean, but they have a temper, and they don’t apologize after stinging.

One big bee starred in an unrehearsed skit back on the farm. I was searching for four-leaf clovers in the backyard and a big bumbler was checking on the flower garden. Along came a big Rhode Island Red rooster, king of the territory — he wandered and trysted wherever he wanted to. He just gobbled up this bumble bee and then the fun began.

The bee was a goner, but it went down stinging. If you can imagine doing the Hokey Pokey in really fast time, you can visualize that rooster’s performance. I wondered if he would strut as much as he did before the bee thing. I think his crowing voice lost some of its authority.

I mention this little tableau in case some others who grew up on farms can relate to the free fun we had, even without twittering or texting.

We created entertainment from simple things. We whittled out little paddles, stirred up a bumble bee nest and ran like the dickens. We meant no harm, and used the paddles to swat an attacker away. Sometimes it worked. One day an angry fellow chased me on a bee line until I veered off like a receiver avoiding a defender, and the bee headed for the porch where my kid sister was watching the show. We don’t talk about that one.

Vignettes like the bumble bee wars were big back there in our simple worlds, because they show that kids could then, and probably could now, create fun stuff if they were forced to. They are more sophisticated. We who can remember those simple games and experiences carry something of value with us.

Modern kids will remember their fun, too, but I doubt if any of them has ever seen a rooster do a panic-stricken Hokey Pokey.

I read somewhere that the queen bee — there are no kings, which may be significant — has an awesome power. After a romantic meeting, the bumble bee queen can decide whether an egg will produce a male or female. I reckon that the female right to vote was never an issue in the bumble bee world.

As far as I know, the tireless bumble bee’s main contribution to our world is the pollinating thing, and that is a major help to the Earth.

I read that the queen bumble bee finds a nesting place when winter ends and goes out on short trips for nectar. She lays eggs and some young bumblers emerge from cocoons.

Guess what those first ones do. They look for food. But the most fun is left for the drones, who spend their lives setting up romantic trysts with girl bees. The old queen and the workers die before winter, probably just worn out. Then a new cycle begins — it is orderly, maybe because the females seem to run things.

An angry bumble bee once landed in my hair and I always figured that this stinging experience left me weak in math, science and understanding British people on TV.