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Bobby’s Bee Story (From in the Hardrock Goldmine in Alaska)

Written by Guest Contributor

I had a very aggressive day, so much so that I was on foot walking…storming out the mine. The wind was strong in the tunnel I was in. Almost outside, but the wind was also warm form the heat of summer.

As I stormed, a hurricane of fury to those who wronged me. I came upon a bumblebee lying in the middle of the road. It was desperately fighting the wind. The wind was obviously far more powerful, yet the bumblebee fought.

I walked on pondering on this bee up against his impossible little task. A truck drove by me through the tunnel and I knew the bee behind me must have been crushed. I began peering for anymore insects who had flew into the wrong hole in the ground. They never survived in a mine the ones that got in. They would always die from getting stuck in the mud or perhaps thrown around by the powerful winds that rush through the tunnels.

So, I searched for another unfortunate bumblebee as I walked on. I did find about, but it was a wasp clinging this time. Except he seemed to be making head way against the wind. I watched him too for a moment. Thought about my boys coming across him on his turf and crushed him under that muddy boot of mine. This again made me think of the bee then feet back or so. I felt bad for the bee. He fought so hard but unlike the wasp, he fought a fight he could not win.

I decided to take a moment to see if his little body had caught a rock or dirt. Perhaps, he had not blown away, and I could at least take his body out of the dark and lay him on a leaf in the sun. If it were me on my death bed, I would request not to die underground. So, I searched and I found him. A little excited to find the little bumblebee. Even though he was on his back, wings covered in silica dust. If not dead, only seconds from it.

So, I put my boot on the upwind side to clock the wind from the little stinging capable bum bee. I removed two half-full, half empty cans of chewing tobacco from my pouch, and I quickly emptied one can into the other (save a little pinch). I cleaned out the can with my dirty fingers.

I move my foot and the wind threw the bee another foot or two. I rush over and placed the tin lid of the can in between the wind and the bee and the other side of the can on the other side of the bee. He frantically reached with four of his legs towards the can standing on his back two legs. He climbed into the can. I closed the lid and as gently as if I held a child sleeping, I carried the bee the rest of the way out of the mine. I knew that he was doomed. Either the pummeling of the wind, rocks and mud or the chemical overdose of the chew left over in the residue of the can.

About five or ten minutes late, I made it outside. Realizing I had moved gently but very fast in my gentlest form. All to save this little bum bee. I prepared for a dead bee or a sting as I opened the can. But when the two pieces of the little round can broke apart with my arms spreading a little bumblebee flew right at me. Stopped in the air and then flew off into the hot day, flying up towards the sun.

It was a beautiful moment in my life. One of the best and all cause of little round can and a bumble bee who never gave up.

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