Found Bees

I'm going to write to the news outlets in Washington State that have been reporting for the last year about the missing-and-feared-dead bees in western agricultural areas. I found them! They live under a rectangular green utility cover in my front yard.

My next door neighbor knocked on my door to let me know that other neighbors were commenting and had reported our bees to the Home Owner's Association. She thinks we may have to split the cost of an exterminator, because they're smack in the middle of our property line.

Exterminator? Haven't they heard? We need bees to have food! I like food. I'm happy they're found. Of course--as the other neighbors (who apparently have nothing better to do than drive slowly down the street examining everyone's front yards) pointed out--they might be killer bees or killer bee hybrids. Sobering thought. Would they chase me into my house? Could I shoo them out and admonish them to go pollinate something?

Until this morning, I was blissfully oblivious to the the neighborhood uproar regarding my found bees. I wonder if I could just lie low and let the nattering nabobs (remember Sprio Agnew?) take care of it? Someone already put an orange traffic post on my curb in front of the commandeered underground utility hive. Sorry, bees. You've been outed. There is no hiding now.

I wonder if that's what happened to the missing bees? Did they get themselves killed by developing a fondness for underground utility hives? Ah, well. As long as fruits and vegetables continue to appear in my supermarket, I'm going to assume that somewhere, somehow, some of them survived.