When I was a young girl I remember admiring my Dad as he tended to his honey bees.  He had six or seven colonies at our home in Candle Lake and then he had a couple of bee yards towards the Meath Park area.  Some of the best honey he harvested came from the hives of bees he kept near specific crops such as alfalfa.  I grew up watching the bees dance around my father as he pulled out frame after frame and gently brushed them aside so he could study the work they were doing.  And because he didn’t get stung, I came to believe the bees were my friend.  One day I saw a honey bee struggling in a deep mud puddle.  It never occurred to me that it might be scared and in distress.  I just wanted to save it.  When I dipped my finger in the water and lifted the bee out to dry ground, I remember its’ tail end curling and she stabbed me in the finger tip.  I went to my mother, crying, and she wiped the stinger away.  I still had the bee in my hand and I remember indignantly crying, “It BIT me!”  Mom replied, “That’s what bees do.”  I couldn’t accept that.  “But, bees are my friend!”  I stayed away from bees with my bare hands after that.  Any rescuing I did began with a stick or twig.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t then that I learned my lesson and kept my distance from those stinging individuals.

Fast forward to a beautiful summers day when the sun is shining brilliantly, a warm breeze has the leaves swaying in the trees and bumble bees lazily grace one flower than the next as they collect pollen.  The wildflowers in the ditch are ripe and full of blossoms.  I punch some holes in the tin lid of a large glass jar, put some flowers inside the glass and go to the ditch to capture some bees.  I just want to watch them up close and then I’ll let them go.  I had three or four bees in my jar and I decided to go and show them to my Dad.  He was visiting with a man so I waited until a break in conversation, as I’d been taught, so I wasn’t interrupting.  But the prize in my hands was just too irresistible and I had to peak into the jar.  Carefully removing the lid, I sniffed the scent of the flowers and covered the mouth of the jar with my eye.  I held the lid in my other hand, near my belly button.  My eye searched for the large bumble bee I’d captured.  The one that I was so proud of and the one who made me bring my jar of bees to my dad in the first place.  I couldn’t see the bee so I lifted the jar higher into the air so I could see better.  Maybe it was under some of the foliage.  Unfortunately, I jostled the lid against my belly and, in a split second, I found that humongous bee.  He gifted me with a stinger in my stomach that quickly became a welt.  I became sick and then dizzy.  My mother made me lie down on the sofa and she gave me a cold compress to apply to the welt.  It kept swelling and, for reasons I can’t explain to this day, she applied a cotton ball soaked in white vinegar on the bite.  After the discomfort of the initial application, it actually didn’t feel quite so painful.  And I learned another beneficial lesson; never squeeze a bee sting as it pushes the poison from the stinger into your body.  Use your fingernail or credit card to wipe it away and pull the stinger out.

Well, you would think all this bee business would have cured me but oh, no.  I wasn’t quite done yet.  I was berry picking with my family.  We were all dressed in our Sunday best but we weren’t doing anything that would ruin or dirty our clothes.  As we picked, we talked.  I had a couple inches of berries in my gallon pail when I felt something bite my bare leg.  I stepped forward and suddenly there were several painful pinches on my legs from my ankles to my upper thighs.  I cried out, unsure of what was happening.  My sister stepped forward and pushed me out of the way, distancing both of us from the underground hornets nest I’d disturbed.  It took several hours for the adrenaline to allow my body to calm down and the next morning I was still shaking and my heart beat faster than it should.  Mom had given me something for pain but I vowed I wouldn’t go near another insect again.  Now, I carry an epi-pen because it turns out I’m actually allergic to stings.  It seems almost surreal that one little insect with a slight amount of venom could potentially kill me.

Recently I read Regina is seeing an increase in the hornet population.  I put up a faux wasp nest outside my back door as the advertising promises it will warn insects away from the area.  Apparently hornets, wasps and the like are quite territorial.  My children are constantly going in or out and they often leave the screen door slightly ajar.  Just wide enough for a hornet or wasp to find its’ way inside.  We’ve already had three huge hornets in the house this week.  And a bumble bee that, when I first caught it in my peripheral vision, I thought was a hummingbird.  No such luck.  I’d know how to release a hummingbird but I had absolutely no desire to catch the bee.  I did try to escort it outside using a broom and a tea towel.  When that failed, the bee met its’ demise and I discarded it before it could sting someone.  Yes, my Dad’s dead honey bees have stung me when I inadvertently leaned against them.  But now I’m sad to see many gardening friends reporting they aren’t seeing many honey bees at all.  In fact they’ve been asking for advice from more experienced gardeners on how they can pollinate their plants so food will grow.  I’d read an article once about a pesticide company that has a number of “model” forests in the United States where the trees self pollinate, killing the insects, including bees.  And where there are no insects, there are no birds but also, there’s no fertilization of plants either.  When I learned about this I became concerned because, when a “model” tree releases pollen and seeds that are carried on the wind, it can cross pollinate with unaffected trees and create a hybrid.  Those model forests can affect the whole earth, ruin ecosystems and send an already unstable food supply into further jeopardy.  This is not the idea our ancestors had in mind when they showed us how to live off of and become stewards of the land.  We are supposed to be taking care of it, not ruining it for the next generation.  So seeing the bee population dwindle in our backyards has me feeling kind of sad.

While our bees struggle, the ants do not.  I’m killing them regularly in my bedroom and I can’t figure out how they’re coming into the house.  I was advised I should sprinkle baby talcum powder on the entry way into my home as ants don’t like the smell and won’t cross over.  Good advice.  Except for the ants who climb up the door frame and enter the house two feet above the talcum line.  Then I find them in my room.  I could understand them being in the pantry as that’s where they’d find food … but not in my bedroom, my sanctuary where I shouldn’t have to be worried about finding myself face to face with a mammoth black ant!

So I’m looking for natural ways to avoid further personal contact with anything that bites, stings or sucks blood.  I haven’t seen many dragonflies or bats yet so perhaps that’s why the mosquito population seems out of control.  As a family, we are staying hydrated and, during the heat of the day, snacks can be sweet things like bananas but by the time we’ve gone outside again water has helped make our bodies smell less appealing to help avoid bites. Coconut is a scent ticks and head lice are supposed to hate but foods such as garlic, milk, lemon and orange peel, onions and apple cider vinegar are supposed to ward off biting insects as well.  All I know is summer is going to be awfully blue if I can’t figure out a way to keep the insects out and my children safe from being bitten.  Maybe I’ll have to stick with flyswatters, rolled up newspapers and Raid!

Take care and have a great week, everyone!