It was a day just like any other day - the sun was shining, a slight breeze was in the air, and the camp was minutes away from welcoming new guests for a week's worth of ministry. I entered the office as I had done so many times throughout the summer, to check in and get things prepared. Little did I know that a mass grave of death would greet me on the other side...
I opened the door to see hundreds of dead bee bodies scattered across my desk and floor. My first thought was: "What the heck happened in here? Did our maintenance manager, we'll call him "Big John," fumigate the office while I was away for the week?" It didn't take long to figure it out, for upon entering the second door of the office, the answer was right in front of me. Bees! Lots and lots of yellow jacket menaces were flying around the office as if our base camp was their private air field and not a place where humans had worked during the previous 9 weeks of the summer. Where did they come from? How long have they been in here? Why had so many died? I didn't really care after about 20 seconds of being surrounded by the alive ones. I located their entrance point and bolted.
About 5 years ago I was stung by a yellow jacket and had to visit the Emergency Room. My face swelled up and red blotches covered my body. It was a nasty allergic reaction that was not very fun. I remember lying down as a cortisone shot was administered to me at the same time as I took some benadryl. My heart raced and then I think I passed out for awhile. Then, I had to take benadryl everyday for the next week - while I tried to work. I can't tell you how many times I almost smacked my face on my desk from all the drug taking. So, as you can imagine, I was not fond of the little sting happy pests. The only thought I had was to avoid getting stung at all costs.
I raced around the camp, alerting others to the dangerous office situation and looking for some canisters of Bee Killer. I could not find any - and time was ticking away until our guests would be arriving, expecting everything to be in perfect working order. Finally, I found a box full of killer spray - jackpot. With my brother as my wing man, we popped off the caps and went in, guns blazing. I entered the inner office and he took to the exterior. We were determined to take back our home base - to rid it of yellow and black evil on wings. The white foam plugged their point of entry and killed any who dared enter. I'm not gonna lie, it felt good to kill those things. I was a full fledged Bee Killer and I was proud of it.
We heard through a friend and co-worker that when bees die they release a pheromone that alerts other bees - which then attracts them to check things out. Translation - their dying only brought more to the scene. This made us a tad more trigger happy, trying to take bees out of the air with the white foamy spray - with little success. In the end, the bees were silenced for the day. The next hour was spent sucking up bees into the vacuum and trying to erase all signs to their infestation.
The next day only brought more discoveries of yellow jacket hide-outs. When the kids arrived, one such hide-out was uncovered, unleashing more of them onto human flesh. I eliminated the underground lair as quickly as possible. The following day another spot was detected and again the spray was uncorked and bees were killed. It seemed that in the span of just seven days off, bees had taken over the camp. This made us perturbed and angry. We remained on high alert.
As I worked in the office yesterday, I kept hearing them. They were/are in the walls of the office, still working. The hole has been cut off, but they continue to creep around inside the walls. I went out for another round of spraying, just to make sure I was safe. But to our astonishment, we kept seeing and finding bees in and around the office. They were just as determined to avoid their elimination as we were determined to eliminate. I respected them, but only grew more fierce and motivated. I typed but kept my ears and eyes on anything suspicious in the office. Then, to my utter disbelief, a fly-by. I was buzzed by one as I kept to myself on the couch, working on the lap top. I felt something land on me and I swiped it away. Fifteen minutes went by and just as I was about to click "Send" and shooting pain swept over me - I was stung. A lone bee had just accomplished the single greatest act of revenge for the entire Shores of St. Andrew Yellow Jacket colony of 2008. Scared, infuriated and shocked, I stood quickly without tossing the laptop to its destruction and tore off my shirt to get him off. I may have uttered a few words that are not camp appropriate. UnBEElievable - I had been stung.
Before I could freak out too much, my brother entered the office and saw what was going on. He helped me to remain calm and inspected the wound on my left shoulder blade. We waited and watched for another breakout...but none came. Frazzled, I retreated to my cabin and calmed the nerves. An hour after the sneak attack, I was still okay. No reaction this time other than the standard bulls-eye redness and painful-I-want-to-scratch-it-so-badly itch. I was beside myself with anger and admiration for that little yellow devil. I killed a countless number of his pals and he made sure I tasted his sweet revenge - in a summer about God's Justice not being about getting even. So that's how it's gonna bee...
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