My secret life as a beekeeper

This weekend I was looking for a book to read in my library and I picked up “A Country Year” by Sue Hubbell. This is the second time I read this book since buying it three years ago in a yard sale. The book is about the author’s life in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, living off the land as a beekeeper. Her description of the land, the people of the Ozarks, and her bees was riveting; I could not put it down. After reading the book I told myself this is the life I want.
And so it started, my fantasy of moving to the country and become a beekeeper. Of course, I did not share this fantasy with anyone because I couldn’t take what I knew would have been everyone’s reaction—probably, “You--a beekeeper. HA HA HA!!!!”

A few months later, I was working in the garden and I noticed an unusual number of bees around me. I looked up and “Oh my God,” a beehive had moved into the top corner of my roof, the bees going in and out through a small round hole in the wood on the roof overhang. “It must be a sign,” I told myself. My wife, of course, freaked out. Everyone I knew would tell me “you have to get rid of those bees” and that made sense to me but no one knew of my fantasy, my thinking that this could be the first beehive of my bee empire!
After making sure that the bees were not getting into our attic, I decided to share my garden with these hard working insects and for about a year harmony reigned at the DragonFly Garden. I was fascinated by the hive and would watch the activities at different times of the day such as the parade of worker bees hauling water from my pond to the hive: nature at its best in my garden. I would secretly take trips to the Redlands looking for land for sale where I could establish my beehive business. The Redlands is an agriculture area in extreme southern Miami where most of the winter vegetables are grown and many commercial beekeepers operate. Maybe my fantasy was not such a fantasy after all!

One day, while I was working in my tomato plants and unbeknownst to me, there had been a management change at the hive and the new queen let it be known to all her workers that she was not interested in sharing the garden with the bold guy and his dog below. She sent a squadron of her best fighters after me and it was like Pearl Harbor, unprovoked and unexpected. I made a straight line to the house while my poor dog ran in circles and tried to fight back.
For days our family could not venture outside for every time we would go anywhere near the hive, the kamikazes would come out. It was clear the bees had to go. I called several beekeepers to see if they would come out and get the hive but none were interested. The only option left was a bee exterminator. I found one near Orlando and the day he showed up, I could not bear to see the massacre. I am told the man came dressed in a full hazmat suit and equipped with an electric chain saw. By the time he finished, part of my roof was destroyed and he claimed that this had been one the biggest beehives he had ever exterminated. The hive was about 8 feet long! After all was said and done the exterminator cost me $600 and fixing the roof another $400

Today I have a newfound respect for bees but I admire them from a distance. I continue to have my fantasy of moving to the country and living a simpler life but maybe I could raise Alpacas--they are cute and furry and don’t sting!