The Bees

It was a Suddenlink guy who gave me the word. “You’ve got a beehive on your garage!”

There it was:  a delicate construct of paper right under the eaves.  The bees were hanging out in the flowery bush near the garage door.  They were busy but not aggressive.  The hive would require  someone standing on a ladder to remove it.  What to do?

I consulted my ‘neighbors” NextDoor and two of them referred me to the same beekeeper. The Humboldt Beekeepers website had about 100 people listed who might be approached to remove and harbor bee colonies. I didn’t want to call 100 people, so I called the fellow recommended by my Neighbors.  He was very pleasant.  We made an appointment. He didn’t show. I called him. We rescheduled. He didn’t show again. I called him a third time.  I never heard back.

Then my friend Conan Cavanaugh up in McKinleyville told me that Bob Smith was a beekeeper. Bob Smith is One Of The Best People In Humboldt,  and you know him as one of the founders of Mad River Brewing.  I reached him through the brewery and he journeyed to my place in Cutten to review the situation. “They’re not bees”, he said, although they looked for all the world like small bees. They were officially wasps,  and could be removed by hosing the hive at twilight or after dark.  I felt bad that I’d caused him to make a trip to Cutten for no reason. That’s okay, he said.  He was on his way to a practice in Eureka with his bagpipe band.

Only in Humboldt…

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