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My childhood memories of bumblebees are vivid. They were big, bright and booming creatures I encountered in meadows, underfoot and once in the backseat of a car. An early encounter with a bumblebee set the scene for melissophobia (fear of bees) that plagued me for decades.
I remember the occasion clearly. In the back seat of my uncle’s car, the window was wound down to let in some fresh air. A bumblebee flew in and was buzzing loudly at the back window, trapped. The bee looked so pretty with its striped and furry body, and I was fascinated. My mother’s voice boomed from the front seat.
‘Don’t touch!’
This was enough to make me want to do just that. I was a contrary child who could never follow orders, especially not those given by my parents. So, I did exactly the opposite to what I was told. I reached out to touch the bee and was stung on my hand. I wailed in pain and tears flowed freely. I probably received a few ‘I told you sos,’ and nothing could console me. I grew weary of these gentle giants that fly awkwardly from flower-to-flower pollinating as they go. I also developed a fear of all insects in flight
Bumblebees are considered a pest in Australia, and I have only ever encountered them in Tasmania. Like so many imported species, they compete with native species and they also compete with honeybees. An interesting fact about bumblebees is that they do not produce honey. Due to their size, they can damage flowers which makes them unusable for other pollinators that come along.
I have only overcome my fear of bees in the last few years after learning more about their importance to the ecosystem. Somehow, understanding their vital role in our own survival has changed my attitude towards these creatures and my fear has subsided. I treat bees with respect and keep my distance, but I am no longer afraid. I appreciate all that they do and now watch in awe as they engage in their complex ritual dances to let other bees know where the best nectar can be found.
From Quill to Quote 