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Thursday, May 08, 2008

A Beeline From the Trigo Fire

By Laura White
For the Telegraph
      I wish I were a poet. I would write an ode to spring in New Mexico, an ode to forest fires and honey bees.
       I own property near Torreon, or as friends sometimes say, it owns me. On Sunday afternoon, the Trigo Fire jumped up and took off, headed for the towns of Manzano and Torreon. Flames leaped a hundred feet high. The fire raced 20 mph down the rugged mountain canyons toward the towns. The center of the fire was hot enough to create its own environment. The wind column in the center spit flaming embers as far as a mile and a half. Smoke lay over the Estancia Valley. Maybe you heard of the fire. Many shared my angst. We watched the progress of the fire the next week. Then Bucky Too, our friendly little cat, brought panic and comic relief, along with a few hundred honey bees.
       Bucky got his “Too” when his older brother Buster got his “Boo.” Buster Boo is a bit of a scaredy cat. He wasn't always that way, and that's not how he got his name. He got Boo when he learned he could jump and scare people. My Boo couldn't settle for just jumping out from hiding places. No, my Boo had special tricks. He would come out of nowhere as I bent over the kitchen sink and give me a smart pop on the left cheek. I would spin around to see Buster's tail flying.
       Bucky was never impish. From the very beginning when he was abandoned on our street he has been friendly and trusting. He came to us after a neighbor's granddaughter rescued him inches away from the nose of a tied-up dog. At first he was so young he still wanted to suckle, so we teased him by calling him Sucky Bucky. He's never seen a stranger — animal, person or insect.
       It's afternoon, and I'm in my study at the back of the house checking on the status of the fire. I hear a great hum. It's a sound I know but can't recognize because it is so out of place. I turned in time to see Bucky break the land speed record to get from the bedroom to the front of the house. The bedroom was filled with bees.
       I called Ted to help just as Buster Boo, our more cautious cat, came in the back door fur fluffed, watchful and wary at unfamiliar sounds in the house. I got a sting on my knee when I knelt to check under the bed. Note to self: When around bees, be careful where you put bare body parts.
       Bees left as we got screens off the windows and doors opened. Bees crazily batted themselves against inoperable windows. I covered them with a swaddling cloth and gently moved them outdoors. Bucky must have been more frightened than hurt. Once Ted and I were on the job, he returned and took an active interest in the bees as they were released. Buster skirted to the whole situation, ate his dinner and left.
       As the next day broke, I experienced a psyche cringe at the sound of the bees that had escaped the roundup. One by one, sometimes two by two, I hunted them down, captured and released them. In the backyard I found a swarm low in a pomegranate bush. Our inquisitive little Bucky must have found the swarm and the bees misinterpreted his curiosity. I imagine that as Bucky dashed for the safety of home base — under the bed — the bees came with him through the cat door.
       A beekeeper agreed to pick up the swarm. One beekeeper said he has a call or two a day this spring as queen bees take off from the hive with part of the work force to create a new hive. The bees keep the queen safe in the middle of the swarm as scout bees look for a dark place to build a new home. No need to panic or attack the bees with water hoses or insecticides; give them time and space. If the scouts don't find a new place soon, within 8 to 72 hours, the swarm moves on. Although they'll stay put if it's windy. True to form, when the winds died down, the swarm buzzed away. The beekeeper who was to pick up the swarm will have to look elsewhere for his free bees.
       Yes, if I were a poet I would write an ode to spring in New Mexico:
       An ode to the Trigo Fire.
       An ode to honey bees.
       An ode to Bucky — the bee bus.
       Neighbors is a weekly column written by people in the community. Anyone interested in writing for Neighbors can contact Rory McClannahan at 823-7102 or online at editor@mvtelegraph.com.>   

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