How to bee-proof yourself

How to bee-proof yourself

‘Raise(rāz) your shirt,’ Andrew said and with tweezers(ˈtwēzərz) he applied two bee-stings(stiNG) to my back.

By Aidan Hartley

First comes a distant(ˈdistənt) hum(həm), rising(ˈrīziNG) in volume(-ˌyo͞om,ˈvälyəm) until I hear it coming straight(strāt) at me like Niki Lauda behind the wheel((h)wēl
) of his Ferrari. The blue sky darkens. I duck as swarming bees zoom overhead, trailing(trāl) their queen. They are gone again in a second, coiling(koil) off in a shadowy(ˈSHadōē) murmuration(ˌmərməˈrāSHən) across the veldt(velt). After the rains, several swarms hurtle(ˈhərtl) over us daily looking for homes, criss-crossing in the air.

When bees nest(nest) in our farmstead(ˈfärmˌsted) walls we leave them be. Anybody who has had bees live under the eaves(ēvz) will know how cosy(ˈkōzē) it is to lie in bed at night, listening to the soporific(ˌsäpəˈrifik) thrum(THrəm) of countless(ˈkountləs) beating wings. When bees swarm in the kitchen(ˈkiCHən) or chimney(ˈCHimnē), burning(ˈbərniNG) two or three large turds(tərd) of desiccated(ˈdesiˌkāt) elephant(ˈeləfənt) dung(dəNG) produces a cloud of smoke with the aroma(əˈrōmə) of incense(inˈsens), Montecristo(ˌmäntē ˈkristō) and pachyderm(ˈpakəˌdərm) bowel(ˈbou(ə)l) — and the insects(ˈinˌsekt) swiftly vacate(ˈvāˌkāt).

Laikipia is honey(ˈhənē) country. Honey from grass(gras) blossom(ˈbläsəm) is clear as water, honey from forest(ˈfär-,ˈfôrəst) flowers(ˈflou(-ə)r) reaches almost black, but the finest is honey from jasmine(ˈjazmən)-scented(ˈsentid) wait-a-bit thorn(THôrn), which blossoms in the driest weeks before the rains, making the landscape(ˈlan(d)ˌskāp) resemble(riˈzembəl) a peach(pēCH) orchard(ˈôrCHərd) in spring, or a forest after snowfall. For years I have bought honey from our neighbour(ˈnābər) Gilfrid Powys(ˈpōis). He tended hundreds of beehives(ˈbēˌhīv) on his ranch(ranCH) and on Christmas Eve he kindly gave me a present of two large pots of his best honey. Three days later an elephant killed Gilfrid and this signals(ˈsignəl) the passing of an era(ˈerə,ˈi(ə)rə). He was a giant(ˈjīənt) figure in Kenya(ˈkenyə,ˈkēnyə), a great Boran cattle(ˈkatl) rancher, aviator(ˈāvēˌātər), conservationist(ˌkänsərˈvāSHənist), aficionado(əˌfiSH(ē)əˈnädō,əˌfisyə-) of camels(ˈkaməl) and rare(re(ə)r) aloes(ˈalō). Among his many attributes that his neighbours will miss, he was a beekeeper.

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https://www.spectator.co.uk/2018/01/how-to-bee-proof-yourself/