Catastrophe

Catastrophe. Destruction. Devastation.

It all looks so idyllic. It has taken me a whole 24 hours plus to ready myself to blog about the incident. Yesterday, I made my rounds as usual... observing new garden growth, shaking my head at my tomatoes and their disappointing blight of some kind, smelling the hillside's herbs and flowers, then noticing something I couldn't quite place... down the hill, something askew, something off... something... oh the drop in my stomach at the slow realization, at the immensity of what was already impossible to undo. no... a quiet whisper... My dad happened to be in town, and I quickly nursed the baby, handed her and my son over to grandpa, suited up and headed down the hill.

The sinking feeling overcame me... I momentarily wanted to run, didn't want to face the gruesome reality. But the moment passed and I methodically prepared to confront the carnage. Nothing, not a thing I could do now but survey and salvage as much as possible, if possible.

It was obviously a bear. Not just any bear - THE bear. The same albino blackbear that loitered here last year, that strewed the neighbor's garbage about several weeks ago. I know this only because it came back late again in the afternoon, to lick up the scraps I suppose, and my dog gave me ample warning in growls. I ran out and yelled that mangey, yellowish, LARGE (much larger than last year) creature back down the slope.

To confront such a loss is so disheartening, so sad. So many bees lost. Every single topbar scraped clean of comb. The remaining comb pieces scattered about baking in the hot June sun, the young larvae and new emerging bees already dried and shriveling. I couldn't believe the efficiency of the ants. A steady line of ants were carrying eggs, larvae, dead workers out and away, cleaning up the scene before I even knew it existed.

I carefully picked up each small fragment of comb, searched with a small glimmer of hope for the queen and placed them back in the hive. One by one. Most comb simply gone. The few bees still alive were scooped up, and gently lowered into the hive. They were so disorganized, so frenzied, so angry. I cannot even count how many stingers were on my clothes, how many bees I witnessed dying on me as I tried to rescue them. The once gentle bees fighting with their lives...

I never found the queen. I'm fairly certain she is in the belly of the albino bear.

Well, this is life in its most natural sense. I have learned so much through this process... the biggest lesson being PUT UP A WILDLIFE EXCLUSION FENCE IN BEAR COUNTRY. Its up now, thanks to my husband. Its up and ready for another colony. I will check the survivors tomorrow. Check to see if there is any sign of cohesion, any sign I could possibly requeen them this late in the game, despite the complete absence of comb, despite the great stress, despite the minimal number of bees... there is always hope, even in the greatest of losses. I know... its only bees... but the lessons are applicable in all realms, and I am strangely thankful for that.