European Honey Bee (4/11)

Hymenoptera: Apidae

Apis mellifera  

When we were kids in England, our evening ablutions were carried out at the kitchen sink. It was either to save us freezing in the unheated bathroom upstairs or mum didn't trust us to actually wash anything up there, I'm not sure. Anyway, we washed our faces first and then stood on a kitchen chair to place each foot, one at a time, into the sink in order to wash it.

It was when I was engaged in this activity one evening that a bee, finding itself being squashed behind my knee as I lifted my leg, stung me. It was painful. I nearly fell off the chair. Ever since, I have had a wary and abiding respect for bees, and an aversion to any form of bathing, particularly if it involves standing on one leg on a chair.

So when I came across this swarm of bees when hiking in the Brisbane Ranges I was fascinated but apprehensive.

We'd come along as they were looking for somewhere to settle. Why they left their previous home I don't know. Maybe the landlord was extracting too high a rent in honey or something, but this was in a national park, so perhaps not.

I moved cautiously and slowly. I didn't want to upset anyone, especially me, but I wanted to get some photos and edged closer.

The sudden pain of a sting on my forearm alerted me to the fact that this was perhaps a silly idea and I moved fairly quickly in the opposite direction. When a bee stings, it releases an attack pheromone which causes other bees nearby to join in the assault. There were a lot of other bees nearby. After a bee stings too, it dies, and I didn't want any more bees' deaths on my conscience, not that if all of these bees stung me I would have had a conscience for long. The term "anaphylactic shock" came to mind, or may have if I hadn't been more concerned at that point with flight.

Sadly, the bee which stung me would have died. Luckily for me and the rest of the bees, his reinforcements didn't follow.