Apiary Addition

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been a little under the weather. For those that might not know an Apiary is what beekeepers call their bee colonies. My mother wrote a version of this and, of course i embellished it for her. This is my Dad’s favorite story so far!

APIARY ADDITION

My Father kept bees for many years. Once in a while he would add to his apiary new hives. Sometimes he would get new queens from existing hives and populate a new hive or get new swarms from other locations. This particular time he decided to buy some from a mail order catalog. They would be shipped to him through the post office. He was concerned that the bees would be too stressed if they had to endure the carrier route so he called the post office and asked if they would call him when the bees arrived so he could pick them up. As it turned out, that was a prudent call.

Dad went about the task of readying the hive for his new apiary arrivals. When the postmaster called a few days later, there was a sense of urgency in her voice. “Mister Fulton?’ She asked. “Would you PLEASE come and get your shipment of bees as soon as possible!” Dad dropped what he was doing and immediately left for town and the small Post Office. He and Mom lived about four miles from the Post Office and arrived minutes later. They parked in front of the building and he entered the front doors. It was a typical small town Post Office with rows of substantial looking brass PO boxes where local town patrons picked up their own mail lining the walls. A counter was located to the left where a postal worker or even the postmaster herself would wait on customers that needed stamps or to send a package. Behind the counter was a small area with scales, stamps, a cash register, forms and everything the Post Office needed to serve its customers. Behind that area was a wall and door that said EMPLOYEES ONLY. This is where the mail arrived to be sorted and delivered. Dad walked up to the counter and announced who he was. He looked around the counter area but didn’t see his bees.

The Postmaster herself motioned him to follow her. She unlocked and lifted the section of counter top that allowed entry and exit for the postal workers. She seemed extremely agitated, like someone going for a root canal that was deathly afraid of the dentist. He followed her through the counter door.  She opened the EMPLOYEES ONLY door and stepped through motioning him to follow. She stopped abruptly and pointed to the area where the bees were. Dad shrugged compliance and set out to retrieve his bees. He knew he shouldn’t be there, especially un-escorted. She had stayed by the door watching him. Then it dawned on him, she was so afraid of the bees she wouldn’t go near them! No amount of persuasion would change HER mind! No matter that bees pollinate our world and plants and flowers wouldn’t grow without them. No matter that the honey was delicious and the beeswax beneficial! She was terrified of bees! Dad made his way past the myriad if postal sacks and packages to the area she had indicated. There by the dock where the mail had been dropped were his babies in a small screen wire box.

Now, most people that know Dad might consider him stoic or serious by nature, but anyone that really knows Dad is aware of a vein of mischief that runs close to the surface. When this vein is nicked it spews fourth like an uncapped oil well and this poor lady had just nicked it! He bent over, picked up his screen wire package, and cradled it under his arm as if he was carrying a small dog. As he picked up the box a muffled buzz like a beehive caught the attention of the Postmaster. The twinkle in his eye and the suppressed grin threatened to give him away. As he got closer she tried to melt into the door. She was visibly shaking and almost fell backward in her attempt to put as much room between her and the box as possible. As he passed he reached over to the box with his free hand and placed it so it looked like he was petting his small dog! She almost made water right there! He passed through the door back into the front area, proceeded to lift the counter and walked out to where the patrons were supposed to be. He turned and calmly waited to sign the paperwork as he placed his precious cargo on the counter. The Postmaster was trying to maintain some professionalism although by this time a primal scream, like a person terrified of spiders might emit after being surprised by one, was just about to her lips. She practically threw the paper at the counter for him to sign. He looked the paper over slowly, all the while drumming his fingers on the bee box so they would stay slightly agitated. He finally signed and tried to hand the paper back to her.

“Just tear off the top copy and leave it on the counter please!” she managed to tremble out. Dad swears the tension and fear and anxiety that filled that poor woman gushed out with such force that the door took an extra-long time closing behind him! He opened the car door and placed the package in the middle of the seat between himself and Mom. She looked at him puzzled.  She asked him, “What took you so long!”

‘I had to go to the back of the building to pick up the bees.” He replied. He started the car and pulled away. She knew something was up and kept after him until he finally confessed. She scolded him for laughing at that poor woman’s reaction as she attempted to suppress a giggle. Little did she know that that nicked vein hadn’t healed yet. When they got home they set about the task of making their new apiary arrivals feel at home. The weather was gloomy and rainy, not suited to establishing a new hive so they decided to keep them in the house. Now, a thousand bees can’t survive long in such cramped quarters without food so Mom set about the task of feeding them. The instructions said to mix slurry of sugar water and paint it on the screen.  She had just painted the screen when the phone rang. She was engrossed in the wonder of watching thousands of bees climb over each other clamoring over the food and her hands were sticky from the sugar so she let Dad answer the phone. He was in the other room working on the hive. She washed her hands and grabbed a towel to dry with while walking in the other room. She stopped in the doorway and listened to the one sided conversation.

“Hello,” He said; unaware that Mom was listening. “Yes she’s home but she can’t come to the phone right now, She’s feeding bees. We just got a queen and the hive through the mail in a screen wire box.” The puzzled reaction almost came through the phone line. After a pause he continued, “Well, you take thousands of tiny bottles and fill them with sugar water and put them up to the screen wire.” He explained in the same serious tone he had answered the phone with.” There was another pause on the other end. “That’s not the hard part. The hard part is trying to burp them!” Silence on the other end. By this time Mom had hurried into the room. She grabbed the phone and started apologizing profusely, all the while hitting him with the towel. He ducked the towel tirade and, with the twinkle in his eye and the suppressed grin on his face, gave her the “WHAT?” look. As he moved out of towel range and went back to his work. Such was life on the Fulton Funny Farm!

Rosalee Fulton
Dan Fulton 09-20-02