Hive

Every bee is born with a title nailed to its back. Every bee as a predetermined role  essential to the survival of the hive. Every bee has a purpose. The male drones, the female workers, and the queen… without one, bees couldn’t survive.

Male Drone

As a male drone, my one purpose in life is to mate with the queen. Once I fulfill that purpose, my endophallus rips from my abdomen and my body is torn open. When winter comes, the time when the queen doesn’t mate, the worker bees first starve all of the males which weakens us and we are kicked out of the hive. Hypothermia and starvation kill us off slowly. Without stingers, we are hopeless against the merciless tide of nature. We keep our hive strong in our own way.

Female Worker

The sounds of buzzing like a swarm of birds trapped in a car is unbearable. I am a female worker and the work never stops. I am responsible for every job except reproduction. The drones get to do that, they’re more harm than good when our queen can’t mate. Some of my friends are scouts, some are guards, some care for the queen, some produce honey, but most are pollinators. All of these jobs help keep the hive safe and powerful. I get the not-so-lucky job of pollinating. Every plant I see gets pollinated, which not only helps the hive, but helps the planet as well. Back and forth, back and forth. The days fuse together in a molten ball of boring. Other animals fear my sting and try to hurt me. I have to make sure nothing looms over me when I pollinate. Flying and buzzing through the sky. Getting back to the hive at the end of the night is a relief, knowing that I survived another day of work.

Queen

I am the queen of the hive, groomed since birth to replace my mother. Given special treatment by my brothers and sisters until I’m ready to claim my throne. There is something I must do first. I strike, sounding off my war cry as I slaughter each new female that challenges me. I make my way to the queen. My mother… the last head I must take to rise to power. I kill her too. My siblings treat me with unending respect, like a goddess despite the merciless genocide I orchestrated. I don’t get the adventurous life of my sisters, I get a life of motherhood. I’ll make new hopeful females, who will fight and kill me as I did my mother.

Bees are not pests. Like humans, we are complicated creatures. Stop knocking down our hives and spraying your poison. We aren’t only important to our hive, but we are also important to yours. Think about that next time you swat at our family.