The sting of working in the backyard
Earlier this summer, my eldest daughter came running into the house screaming and crying. She was working with a weed whacker trimming fence lines when she hit a nest of bees on the ground. When the first bee stung her, she thought she inadvertently touched a hot wire of the fence and kept trimming.
She’s a hard worker, that one.
When the second bee stung, she looked down and saw it on her leg, but swatted it away and continued working.
It was only when the third, fourth and fifth bees began stinging her that she had an actual problem.
As she told me, she would have been stung fewer times but for the fact that, after she ran toward the house, she actually ran back toward the bees so she could shut off the weed whacker.
Brave or foolish? The jury is still out.
But my first impression of the scene was when she appeared at the front door, wailing and swinging her arms. She was in obvious pain, and had several bees flying around her face and body.
I yelled for her to peel off her clothes, and as she did, more bees appeared. Apparently, they had gotten inside her jeans and tee shirt and were continuously stinging her.
My middle daughter and I swatted, slapped and stepped on a handful of bees before it appeared we had gotten them all.
After a complete inspection, my girl had nearly a dozen stings that were swelling.
I got her into the shower, made a baking soda paste and applied lavender essential oil to the sites of the stings. Once the swelling was under control, she felt better, but she slept for the rest of the day.
I relay this today because I recently read about a New Zealand man who was stung multiple times in the course of his workday.
A beekeeper, the man faces a real threat of bee stings on a daily basis, I would imagine.
These stings were not of the normal variety, however. Some acquaintances of his – I refuse to use the word “friends” here – bet him one thousand New Zealand dollars he wouldn’t sit on a beehive for thirty seconds. That is just over $700 American dollars.
Of course, there was a catch: he had to sit without pants.
After watching my daughter’s pain, I can’t fathom anyone doing something similar intentionally, but he did it.
Don’t believe me? There’s a YouTube video.
He peeled off his pants, sat on an open hive, and proceeded to swear and grimace in pain for the next thirty seconds. After the bet, he hopped away. Perhaps he was a little bit richer, but so much more sore.
My daughter agrees with my assessment the man is a bit of a fool. I didn’t even need to get stung to realize the foolhardy nature of the bet, but she has lived through the experience and said she wouldn’t repeat it for all the money in the world, let alone a measly few hundred bucks.
And if I were to make a bet, it would be that she knows what she’s talking about.