A mystery

Around two weeks ago I noticed that I could clearly see the hive from the top of the meadow. The apple tree that once blocked my view of the hive was drastically thinner, and the weeds that grew tall around the tree had seemingly disappeared. It had been so hot that, not wanting to put on my bee suit and head net, I did not venture down to the hive. I have read that in that kind of heat it is best to leave the bees alone, and I did just that. Periodically I would look down the meadow and make sure the hive was still standing upright, that a bear had not knocked it over. All seemed fine from the house. Meanwhile I built and painted a honey super and put the frames together. Then, a few days ago, I was told by a neighbor that the electric fence had clearly been pulled away from the hive. A bear or something very large had gotten in to the area. But the hive still stood upright.
Today was the day I set aside to "super" the hive and to fix the electric fence. But first I had to light the smoker, a difficult new experience. Until today, I had never smoked the bees. Instead I used a mixture of water and sugar to calm them down. Now the numbers are too high, and I had been told that now is the time to use some smoke for my safety. The smoker was a bit hard for me to light, and my fear was that I would get to the hive, open it, and my fire would be out. It didn't happen like that at first, but my smoke certainly didn't last for the duration of my visit. Another thing to practice. At the hive, my adrenaline was certainly pumping today, nervous energy and a sense of fear as there are now two hive bodies full of bees and many of them clung to the front porch. The adrenaline is a good feeling for me though, a combination of awe and fear that feels quite healthy- time to be aware of nature, fearful and engaged, without ego.
And here is the mystery: the fence tape was off of the frame- stretched out about 10 feet on both sides but the hive was still standing. If a bear had gotten in surely it would have knocked the hive over and stolen its sweet reward. And when i went to turn the fence off I noticed that it was in pieces- the battery broken in two, the frame in pieces, the circuit five feet away. Had a bear destroyed the charger too? Why was the hive still standing?
And one possible answer came today that would account for the thinning tree, the broken fence and the deadened weeds, (and maybe readers of this have a different thought): that lightening hit the apple tree in the last storm, frying the roots, burning the leaves, and that the charge ran through the ground and blew the electric fence to pieces, including sending the fence tape off of the mounts. A better story than a bear, though an expensive one to fix.
Tonight my hive sits unprotected- it has for weeks I gather. Our local bears have gotten to the bee keepers around me. Tomorrow I attempt to find a small charger. Tonight I ask the fates to protect my bees and the honey stored.

Bearding

The average daily temperature in Western Massachusetts has been above 95 for weeks now, air from which one can drink the moisture; there are no breezes and no relief. Thickness and heat-drunkedness abounds- people move slowly and slur their words, laugh uncontrollably and become argumentative quickly. Or they hide in cold shops drinking iced beverages, watching summer remakes in frigid movie theaters or wile away the hours at the public library. I have been so hot that I have not made the walk down the meadow to check on the bees. Two nights ago though, I realized it had been too long and I ventured down, too hot to wear my bee suit or much coverage, and therefore could only observe my bees from a safe distance away. What I saw was brilliant- it is called "bearding"- thousands of bees intermeshed to make beard-shaped solid mound outside of the hive entrance. This is how bees stay cool on a humid summer night- they hang out with each other on their front porch. And while the sight of thousands of bees crawling over each other might make some squirm, to me it was nothing short of miraculous. Despite the movement of the bees as they crawled around, they remained one mass, one colony dedicated to the whole, one bee working for all bees. There was indeed a gentle beauty there that took me for a moment from the summer heat.