This thing was so huge. I mean check out all those thighs! It was like a thumb with wings.
But that was me, almost. The bee landed in front of my friend, parked but at the wheel of a Modo shared truck. Retreating to the passenger seat after taking a closer look across the cab, my arm struck a lever I didn’t see – the front wiper control. Immediately, the blades leapt into action, the rubber unnecessarily wiping – and fast! – across the pristine windshield. The bee didn’t see it coming. Wham! It’s on the wiper, now it’s on the bottom of the windshield. The wiper is coming back for another hit. Boom. It can’t take another one and in the nick of time, the lever is struck, upwards. Following two strong sorties the blades are put to rest.
The big bee lay motionless, legs askew and frumpled. It’s gone from this world, I thought sadly, and yet still in astonishment over the initial notice of this absolute unit of a bee, seconds before. After such admiration and excitement on my part to get a glimpse of a true insect specimen, right there behind the glass, millimeters within touch — I killed it. There it was, taking its last tiny breath, sweet like honey I’m sure.
Wait! The bee stirs. It’s up! It’s alive and it’s flying straight away and across the street. On a level plane, not stunned at all. On a level plane, yes, but windshield height. It’s a 3-way-plus-alley kind of place, traffic can come from any direction. It’s up to luck now. The bee seems to hone in on a target across the way and, ahem, bee lines at speed. Out of sight, away from this danger and onto a new bee danger I will never know. As for me, I was amazed at this bee not once, but twice today and within seconds. But right there in between, for just a fraction of a moment in time, when a bee and a human interact through glass and mechanical device — a little hint of mortality and humbleness to be human and able to kill at will. Just to keep things interesting.
Related: You’re Gonna Get Some Hop-Ons