As I sat in the outdoor hotbath, a bee flew into the pool.
It madly beat its wings in a desperate attempt to escape back in to the sky.
As the only witness to the bee’s life and death struggle, I had a choice to make: I could do nothing and watch it die, or I could rescue it.
I chose to rescue it.
I carefully scooped it out of the water and lay it in the sun.
It dried itself, flew into the next hotbath pool, and died shortly after.
It really is a question of “to bee or not to bee” for all living things.
For this bee, it was “not to bee”.
note: Being a native in an old Tarzan movie really is Shakespeare!
double note: Who bee’d in the pool?
triple note: I hope in its last few seconds of consciousness the bee thought, “I don’t think that guy is going to come over here.”
quadruple note: What a has been!