I've always had dogs. They're an important addition to my life. This is something that I wrote about my old bee dog...sort of. Charlotte was one smart dog.
So, I'm always short on help. I'll hire just about anyone. And I've had all kinds.
The year was 2000, referred to by some at the time as Y2K. I was trying to do harvest alone...700 colonies. Anybody willing to carry full supers to the truck looked good, and got the job. There was this one guy, Jamie. Nice enough: Dyslexic as could be, but not a drunk or a drug addict. Played classical piano as a teenager. Interesting enough to talk to, he came from the same area of the Neversink River valley in New York State that my ancestors settled, early in the eighteenth century. Bit of a kook Jamie was. Every time we drove past a cemetery, he'd hold up his hand, putting it down after we had passed by. A few times of that, and I gave him a look, as if to say, “What gives”?
“Oh says Jamie, I'm just saying hi”. As I said...just about any help looked good at that point.
First yard, I show him what to do. I Bee-Go the bees and he carries the super to the truck. I show him how to stack and cover the supers so the robbers don't get going. He's in full suit, and I'm in a tee shirt. My Hound Charlotte is on the front seat of the truck...not allowed out in that yard...traffic problems.
So Jamie can't figure which side of the super is up. Don't ask how he flips them, but needless to say, the supers aren't being sacked squarely. And the robbers are starting. I straighten the stacks, and show him again. But he just doesn't get it. It ain’t easy when you don't know which end is up.
And now the robbers are really going wild. And he's in a full suit and I'm in a tee shirt with no veil. And the bees are on me like flies on some stinky thing. And they're after him in a cloud. And he's opening the truck door, and my poor Charlotte is covered with stinging bees. And she's out of that truck like a shot.
Jamie tries to hold her, but she bites him a good one and out onto state route 7 she goes. A pickup drives past with the tailgate down, and Charlotte says, "Enough is enough." She jumps in as the truck goes past, and is gone down the road. Jamie runs off, too, leaving Mike to pick up the yard and cover the hives and get heck out of Dodge.
I found Charlotte down the road on someone's front lawn, licking her wounds, frothing at the mouth. Jamie was a bit further away...still not knowing which end was up.
And I finished the year by myself...well...with Charlotte, anyway; My Best Friend. She spent ten good years with me in the bees, and after ten years with her gone, I still miss her companionship. Someone once said that heaven is where we go to be with all the dogs we ever loved. I hope so.
