Three beehives were not enough for the Englishman. Five hives were perfect. Five hives would make his life complete, so he drove two hours each way to pick up the last package bees of the season.
We weren’t ready for them. So, the bees remained in their boxes while the Englishman built two bases. Time was of the essence so it was decided to install the hives temporarily on the deck until the weekend. We donned hats and gloves and within minutes the bees were buzzing about their new homes. With great satisfaction, we put away our bee protective gear and grabbed a beer to share.
The Englishman sat in a nearby chair, sipping his lager and smugly admiring his efforts. I took the second chair and watched him. A lone bee aggressively flew about his head. The Englishman put down his beer bottle and swatted at it. Several more bees joined the first. The Englishman continued swatting. Backup arrived in the form of twelve angry bees. The Englishman screamed, flailed his arms in the air and ran from the deck into the driveway and out of my view. I picked up his abandoned bottle of beer but was unable to drink it as each shriek from the driveway made me laugh harder. Soon the cries faded and I sat back to continue to observe our gentle Italian honeybees.