Chapter 1

On the inside, she felt so sad, so lonely.

Sure, she had lots of friends in her hive. Everyone had lots of friends. If you were hungry, well, just watch your friend dance, to the left, wiggle, to the right giggle, all around twice, now jiggle your hiney. Oh, it’s over there. Fly away, and drink up the nectar on a honeysuckle, or Queen Anne’s Lace, or orchid, or rose, or cowslip. Mmmmmmm. They taste so good.

But, she was tired of all the congestion, the crowded hive, with bees bumping into bees, and walking on bees, bump, bump, oops, sorry. Just way too much contact, meaningless, accidental, unintentional contact. No hugs for a close friend, oh I missed you, glad to see you, are you okay? No deep commitment between friends. It was all just “Hi. How are you? Can’t talk. Gotta go. Bye.”

She wanted a true friend, someone that she could sit next to at a park, and talk about her feelings. She wanted one close friend that would listen to her cry, and pat her on the back, and say, “That’s okay, my friend.”

But, nope, everything was busy, busy, busy. Go here. Do this. Do that. Don’t stop. Keep going. She was tired of being a busy bee, and wanted to spend some time thinking, alone, about what she really wanted to do in life.

You see, she was a teacher, at her hive. She really liked to help the little bees, cute lil’ things, so new to the world of buzzing and flying. And, she was a good teacher, showing them how to dry their wings when they got rained on, and how to fly into the wind by leaning the head downward, and how to escape from hungry praying mantises, and lots more practical things that every little bee should know. But, she never had time for herself, to sit, and think, or read, and relax.

It was all going so fast around her that she felt that her brain was about to explode. She couldn’t take the cacophony, the noise. She couldn’t take the constant motion. She couldn’t stand not having a best friend. So, she ran away from home, her hive, flying off into the distance, without telling anyone where she was going.

 

Chapter 2

On and on she flew, not certain where she was going, or what she would find. She flew for hours, until the sun disappeared over the distant mountains. On most nights, she knew to be in by dark, at the hive, for the night was a dangerous time for bees, and bugs, and all small critters. That’s when bats roamed the skies, and other insectivores looked for something to eat.

In her sadness and despair, she wasn’t watching where she was going, focused only on the thought of another day with no true friend, when SPLAT!

She hit something that stopped her movement. It wasn’t a wall, because there was enough light to see that. It wasn’t a glass window, as she’d run into them before, and they hurt quite badly. No, it was soft, and springy, and…sticky.

OMG! I’ve flown into a spider’s web! What will I do? She wiggled, and jiggled, and even twiggled, but it didn’t help. She was stuck. And, I don’t mean stuck, like the kind of “stuck” when you say that you’re “stuck inside” cuz’ it’s raining, and it’s boring, and you‘d rather be outside playing. Nope, her wings were stuck, her six legs were stuck, and her two antennae were stuck. She wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon.

That’s when she started to cry. Not a soft whimper, boo-hoo, so sad for me. Nope, she started raining large drops of tears, down her cheeks, and sobbing, great, big, loud cries of sadness overwhelming her, and causing her to shake and rumble.

Off to the side, at the edge of the web, sat an old, wizened spider. He knew how to play this game. An insect would fly into his web, wiggle a lot, and then escape. Then, he’d have to go repair that part of the web, and return here, to wait for another dinner guest. Another would arrive, get tangled up, wiggle and jiggle, and get themselves further stuck. Once they were tired from all that movement, he’d walk over there, on the non-sticky parts of his web, and wrap up his dinner super fast, wrap, wrap, using his eight spinnerets. Sure, he knew which lines were sticky, and which weren’t. Every spider could see them quite easily, but not the silly, speedy, fast-talking flyers who frequented his dinner table. He’d just wait for this bee to get still, stop moving, and then…mmmmm.

But, he heard something that he had not heard before.

 

Chapter 3

Sometimes, he’d heard insects angry at him, cursing, and yelling at him to come and get him. Wasps liked to do that, daring him to attack them. “Come and get it, you eight-legged beast!” mean words that he paid no mind to. He’d learned to ignore the taunts of others.

Other times, he’d heard panicked voices, scared, aware of the danger, and fretting over just where the spider was, and how long it would take to die, and would it be painful, and what happens after you die.

But, now he heard something different. He heard the sadness that comes from intense pain, inside. Deep hurt. Incredible sorrow. A terrible loneliness that grew, and grew, until it burst forth. This is something he knew a lot about.

Long ago, he’d been abandoned by his mother. One day, he was inside a sac, with a thousand brothers and sisters, scrambling over each other, eager to exit and explore the world outside. The next day, he found himself an orphan, with no one to show him how to hunt, how to avoid danger, no home, no mother, no friends, and no family, as all of his siblings shot streams of silk into the air, and drifted away, never to be seen or heard from again.

He was alone, and it hurt. He had no one to talk to, no one to tell him that it was okay, no one to be a friend.

Well, at this moment, on this night, while clouds slowly drifted across the full moon, creating gray shadows along the ground, and eerie images in the trees, he chose to change all of that. He decided to take a chance. He wanted a friend, and it sounded like this flyer wanted one too.

“Hello” he ventured, hoping to hear a reply, but none came, only sobs and intense pain.

“Don’t cry, my friend. Tell me what is wrong.”

Well, that one word, that one magic word, caused the struggling bee to stop her crying, stop her whimpering, and wonder just who had called her “friend.” Who?

 

Chapter 4

For the first time, ever, she had hope.

For the first time, ever, he fought the urge to bite a flyer. Hanging upside down, he could see her easily, black and yellow, like him, a warning sign to predators to watch out, and a bit on the small side, like him. For years, he had been intimidated by the larger female spiders, in their beautiful webs. He’d climbed up to say hello so many times, only to be turned on, grrrrr, fangs exposed, venom dripping, and had to drop to the ground on an emergency thread and scoot back home as fast as his eight legs could carry him, laughter and insults raining down on him from above for his hasty retreat. He knew what it was like to be smaller than everyone else, and picked on by bullies.

He wandered across his web, slowly, keeping a careful watch on the stinger that was shooting in and out, in and out, a natural reflex of a threatened bee. Would she sting him, and end his life? He didn’t want to find out.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Caught in the web, she wondered how to respond. Should she answer his question, and bare her feelings, tender as they were, to HIM, and risk rejection? Or should she answer his question with one of her own, as a teacher often does when encouraging students to think for themselves?

Down below, under a pile of leaves, sat an old centipede, slow with age, and curious about this little conversation going on above him, among the upper dwellers. He wriggled a bit, sniggled his claws, triggled his twenty-six legs, and moved out from under his resting place.

“Who goes there, and wakes me, up above?” he queried.

“Go back to sleep, Centipede, for our conversation has nothing to do with you!” shouted the annoyed spider. He really didn’t like centipedes, and ignored them whenever possible.

Bee realized that another critter was speaking, from down below this time, and ventured, “Do I have a friend among the crawlers? Speak to me, please, for I am alone, and wish not to be so. I seek friendship, and happiness. Am I to find it here, among you kind folks?”

“Kind folks? Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the old centipede, thinking the flyer a bit naïve with so many stingers and fangs in the area. “Friendship?” he asked. “What is that?”

Sitting still, stuck on the web, she began to wonder what the answer to that question was herself. Just what is friendship? She had never had a true friend, and so, she didn’t really know how to respond to his question.

“Well,” she started. “Friends don’t eat each other. I‘m pretty sure of that.”

“True,” replied Centipede, having been around for many winters, keeping warm in the moist leaf piles and under fallen trees, their decaying trunks home to lots of other critters, as well as centipedes. “I don’t think that friendship would last too long if one of you ate the other. It would be like, “Hi, friend. How about coming over for dinner tonight? Gulp! Oh, tasty. Ummmm, where did you go, friend?”

They both laughed at his humor, and so stirred the comedian inside him, from the days of his youth, when he‘d entertain the locals for hours with his silliness, and funny stories. Yes, he used to be real popular, but not so much now that he was so old. The youngsters didn‘t seem to want to listen to his crackly voice, and got impatient when he‘d ask them to speak louder, cuz’ he was having hearing problems.

“Okay,” he began. “What is the difference between a bee and a bean? Give up? Okay, one has a stinger and can fly in the air, and the other one can often linger and float in the air. Get it? A bee has a stinger. A bean can give you gas and it can linger in the air.”

“Ummm, that was a bit gross,” Spider stated.

“Okay,” he responded. “What did the bee say to the spider? Ahhhhhhh! What did the spider say to the bee? Gulp! Ha, ha, ha. That was a funny one, yes? Wait, neither of you is a bee? or a spider? Are you? Tell me you’re not. OMG! This is so awkward. I’m always telling that joke to the wrong crowd.”

Spider focused on Bee, looking directly into her eyes, and asked, “Do you trust me? You see, trust is essential in a relationship. Without trust, it won’t go anywhere. I must trust you not to attack me with your stinger, and well, you must trust me not to attack you with my fangs. Otherwise, one of us dies. Or, both of us. What shall it be?”

 

Chapter 5

Bee thought for a moment. Since childhood, she’d been taught to NEVER trust a spider. They’ll say anything to get near you. And then, when your guard is down, you suddenly feel two piercing sensations, and the poison slowly drips into your system. You feel your senses slowing, eyesight losing its focus, and sleep coming upon you at breakneck speed. Then, you’re dead and somebody is eating you for dinner, and your friends talk about how nice you USED to be, and how much they miss you now that you’re gone.

“Do you trust me?” he asked again.

So often, when asked a serious question, she’d pause, think for a minute, then answer, after having considered other possibilities. She always thought about what she was going to say first, instead of just blurting out an answer. That was the teacher in her. But, not this time. She knew what she wanted, and she was willing to take a chance to find it.

“Yes! Emphatically YES! I trust you to be my friend, to take my thoughts and feelings into consideration, to do me no harm, and to honor our friendship. Of course I trust you. Do you trust me?”

Did he? He wondered that very question. She was a flyer…with a stinger. Could he trust her to do him no harm? Well, there was only one way to find the answer. He walked closer to her, raised his fangs, pressed his pedipalps, his “extra arms” that help in the eating process, close to her body, and…

He began to eat away at the cords that bound her tight, one silk thread at a time, careful not to touch her with the tips of his fangs. Though they contained no venom at the moment, they could puncture her skin, which could do her serious harm, or lead to her death. He was gentle and precise, as all spiders can be, and quickly made a meal of what used to be his web.

She fell with a “thud” to the ground, many body lengths away, dizzy, but happy to be untangled. She breathed a sigh of relief, “Wheh!”

“Hello, little friend, a voice beamed at her from above, just above her face, a stinger‘s-length away.

“Ahhhhhh!” she screamed, forgetting the happiness and relief that was here just a moment ago, as a hideous monster stood poised over her.

“Don’t be alarmed, for we are already acquainted. I am Centipede. And you are the flyer who was stuck in Spider’s web. I see that you are no longer a captive, and now OFF the dinner menu. Get it? Off the menu. Anyways, such a wonderful feeling, isn’t it, to be free? Once a prisoner, bound by silken chains, and now…NOT. So, how do you feel?”

Free, she thought. Never before had freedom tasted so good, with possibilities, and friendships, available for the asking. Friendships. That’s two, and just ten minutes earlier, she had none. She righted herself, buzzed her wings to make sure they worked, and settled back onto the leaf pile, glad that it cushioned her landing in the fall. “I am Bee. I seek friendship. What do you seek?”

Quick to answer, short to think, he laughed, “Soft bellies. I seek soft bellies to fill my hungry belly. Earthworms are the softest, for they have no weapons, like these,” waving his poisonous claws in her face. “My stomach growls, and I growl back. Ha! No really, I’m pretty simple. I seek food, and well, you’re NOT the kind of food I normally seek, so I guess that we could come to an agreement between ourselves, to avoid the sharp parts of each other’s bodies, and maybe see if our friendship takes. See if we become friends, or just annoy each other. Some say that I can be a bit annoying.”

“Hey, I believe that her question was originally directed towards me, crawler,” snorted a little peeved Spider, as he dropped down to the earth on a silken thread.

“Well, hello there, Spider. I’d like you to meet a very nice flyer. Do you have a name?” Centipede asked.

“Call me Bee.”

“Ah, Bee, Spider, and Centipede, all down here among the crawlers. Now, isn’t that just special? I wonder what my neighbors are thinking now,” pondered Centipede, often focused on public opinion and what others thought of him and his shiny red carapace. Then, he felt a tremble, just light enough for him to sense danger, a furry predator maybe, looking for a tasty snack…

“Ummm, you two might want to seek a safer spot to continue this conversation,” warned Centipede, as he disappeared silently underneath the leaf pile.

 

Chapter 6

Back at the hive, high up in an oak tree, the bees did as they always do.

As the night air cooled, they slowed their buzzing, and settled down to rest for the evening. Little ones stopped their games of tag, and loop-ti-loop, and follow the leader. Older ones rested their aching joints from a long day‘s work.

No one noticed that one bee was not there. No one realized that she was gone. They were all too busy doing what bees always do.

A thousand bee-lengths below, another tree sat in the creek, a victim of a severe rain storm. It was no longer alive, no longer full of birds, or squirrels, or bees. It had been their home, a wonderful place to live, for so many generations, until that fateful night when they were all awoken by a sudden “BOOM!”

“What was that?” a bee asked another, then another, and then the hive was abuzz, as the lightning flashed and the ensuing thunder roared through the valley. They all felt the energy in the air, making flight impossible. Something horrible was happening, and they knew it. The children had heard stories of the end of all that is. It would come in a giant light-storm, with flashes, and booms, and danger, and all would end, the bees, the hive, the tree. Everything. Was this it? Was this the end?

Another “BOOM!” while rain poured from the sky, flowing down the edges of the hill, picking up dirt, and rocks, and sending them tumbling into the creek below, tumble, tumble, crash!

Huddled tightly in their hive, protected from the rain, they felt a massive CRACK! Then movement, unfamiliar twisting, twirling, and rolling, and then SPLASH! The tree and their hive was now in the creek, once so far away, now a torrent, flowing over and under them, threatening to drown them all.

“Out! Out! To the skies, everyone!” shouted the older bees to the youngsters. “Now! Go! Go! Go!” But they couldn’t fly, not with the pouring rain, and the lightning, and the intense fear that gripped all of them and kept them rooted to the ground, crawling and crawling.

That night, most of their hive drowned, washed downstream, never to be heard from again, workers, drones, and little ones.

Those who survived the disaster, few in number, fled to the tree that stood silently up on the hillside the next morning, once the rain let up, and their wings dried, to start again, a new hive. There was no time for tears, for sorrow, for sadness. They had work to do. They were bees, and bees worked. They didn’t stop to reflect on the past or dwell on their losses.

A generation later, in that new home, perched high along the cliff-face, the little ones settled down, resting, for another day would begin at sunrise, and they wanted to be ready for that, to buzz, and fly, and zoom.

Someone was missing, but no one noticed that night. No one.

 

Chapter 7

“A safer spot?” queried Bee. “What was he…?”

“Shhh!” Spider warned, as he pointed toward the waving sagebrush just a few yards upriver. Something was causing the branches to move, to wiggle, to separate. Something big. And out here, something “big” means something “dangerous.”

Silently, Spider crawled back up his dragline, eight legs all working to hoist him away from noisy critter in the bushes, up to his web, while Bee looked around with curiosity and interest. Is this another friend? she wondered. She’d met two critters so far this night, but being new to this part of the canyon, she had no idea of the danger that was inching its way towards her.

Badger was on the prowl. He was still hungry. Still, yes, for he’d found several earthworms and one grub. He was a big fella, and needed lots of wigglers to cease the rumbling in his belly. He loved grubs the best, fat, juicy, with no stingers or claws. Mmmmm. The best place to find them was in fallen trees, soft and easily torn apart from years of decaying brought about by rain. He’d sniff around, now where is my dinner? Sniff, I smell something. Sniff, over here, on the edge of this log. Dig, dig, with his sharp claws, watching the porous, water-soaked log rip apart from his digging. “There it is, little white six-legged wiggler. Would you like to have dinner with me? Wait, let me phrase that properly. Would you like to BE dinner for me? Ha, ha, ha. I crack myself up sometimes.”

Badger was still very hungry, and he smelled something. What was it? His nose wiggled to the left, and right, and left. He stopped, confused. This was not a wiggler he smelled. Nope. This was something else. Although he had an excellent nose, so cute, yes, and really good at sniffing out dinner, he needed more information.

Shhh! Don’t move. Listen carefully, for those critters who scurried away on clawed feet always gave themselves away, so noisy, click, click, their feetsies making so much racket. He could always track their scared departure on rocks, logs, and leaves. It was so easy, with his amazing hearing skills. But, this critter wasn’t moving any feet. Instead, there was a slight buzzing sound, a rippling of the air, at super fast speed.

Okay, well, I’ll just have to track this meal by sight, he decided, so off he lumbered through the sagebrush, parting it easily with his wide girth. He looked left, and right, and, wait! There it is, a flyer. He paused, nose pointed straight at his dinner, uncertain if he should venture forward, for he knew about this type of airborne critter. Not only would they fly to the trees at his approach, they were also notorious for swarming, and stinging, any soft-nosed critter like himself who dared to seek the delights of their hive. Ouch, he thought. Do I want to chance a sore nose for the sake of food?

He thought for a moment, and decided to just wait, to see where this flyer flew off to. Which tree? He knew all the local flyer hangouts in this canyon. None were nearby. The nearest was quite a ways up river, in a tree perched high on the side of the hill. He had tried many times to climb this hill, but always came tumbling down after just a few steps. It was way too steep for a chubby badger. Well, maybe a FAT badger is the more accurate description, hee, hee. Where did this flyer live? The yellow and black color pattern told him that she lived in a colony, with lots of other stinging flyers. She would probably head home now that he was there, and then he could sneak in, and quickly make a lunge for the soft, and very tasty, wigglers who lived deep inside the flyers home. Mmmmm. This could turn out to be a rather grand dinner after all, if only he wasn’t worried about his nose.

 

Chapter 8

This valley was never quiet. There was always something buzzing, clicking, snapping, crooning, or chirping. Bee loved the sounds of the dark, far away, and so mysterious. She’d often sit at the edge of the hive, late at night, while the others bees were resting, listening, and wondering what was out there. She was a curious bee. She wanted to know.

As a young bee, she could only hear vibrations, the essence of what communication with sound involves, buzz, buzz. With time, she learned to decode these vibrations, to learn where flowers were located, buzz, over to the left, buzz, fly past the grove of trees. Then, she began to understand the other words that her hive-mates were trying to tell her, such typical things as “Hello,” and “How are you?” and “Watch out! There’s a spider on that flower.” She used her antennae and feet to decode the messages, and got very good at it. In fact, she got so good, that she realized that she was also hearing the sounds, and words, of other critters outside of her hive, especially at night, when the other bees got silent and rested.

Tonight, as she sat there alone on the leafy carpet covering the canyon floor, she began to listen again. She relaxed, ceased her buzzing wings, and focused, diverting her attention from seeing, to hearing. And that is when the magic happened.

Off to the right, about two hundred bee-lengths away, was the gurgling of the water as it rushed downhill. And, there, somewhere near the shoreline, she heard a croak, croak. Far above her, in the tree that cast its eerie shadow across the land, was a chorus of chirp-chirping. And, behind her, far, far away, she heard the crick, cricking of hoppers.

She could hear, and feel, the swaying of the giant tree above her as the wind rushed down the valley, and pushed the leaves and branches back and forth in its wake. As it swayed left, she felt that. As it swayed right, she felt that.

And, just upstream, about a hundred bee-lengths away, she heard the low breathing of a very large critter, followed by the parting of a bush, as it leaped forward in a burst of speed. That woke her from her game, as she realized that the sound of paws on dirt was coming directly toward her, and she had only seconds to escape.

 

Chapter 9

He was minding his own business. That’s what he always did. He didn’t care about what other critters were doing. Their life, their problems, their worries, well, he just couldn’t care less. He was entirely focused on filling up his belly when he was hungry, and avoiding danger when it was near, and sleeping through the winter, and staying out of the hot, hot sunshine.

Danger? Blah! He did not like big critters, or noisy critters, or slithering critters. That was why he was so quiet. He hadn’t spoken a word, or peep, or squeak, to anyone since, well, since that big tree fell into the creek ages ago. He kept to himself.

Poke, poke, he used his snout to move the leaves away. Poke, poke, where are the critters hiding? This was how he worked best. And today, well, he’d come across an ant trail, black ones, BIG, with hairy abdomens. He didn’t really like these crawlers, as they had VERY large pinchers on the front, and sometimes, they’d get his lip, and ouchie. But, mostly, it was gobble, gobble, mmmmm.

He’d eaten about fifty ants, when he tired of their bitter taste, so he went for a short walk, up past the pointy bush, over the smooth rock, around the poofy-leaf tree, and to the soft log. Up he climbed, and looked around, wondering if there might be some grubs somewhere nearby. He loved grubs, soft, juicy, so easy on the stomach. If you ate too many ants, well, your stomach kinda burned. But, just one or two grubs, and well, your stomach was sooooo happy, full, but not too much.

As he stood there, thinking about where to look first, he heard a sound, something behind him. It sounded like a bunch of feet, running at once. Ah, there it is. He saw the final segments of a centipede disappear under the leaf-pile. Centipedes were NOT part of his diet. They fought too much when you tried to eat them. Plus, they gave him indigestion.

He also saw a spider, crawling up a web. Nope, definitely not a part of his diet.

And, a buzzing bee, off to the side. It was looking straight at him. Hmph! What should he do? He didn’t eat bees, and he certainly never spoke to one. They were always too busy, working, working, working. Nope, that’s a strict no-no. He’d learned the hard way not to mess with bees when he was younger. But wait, it wasn’t looking directly at him. It was looking just past him, behind him. What was it looking at?

He turned his head, slowly, and that’s when he saw the most terrifying sight ever, the scariest thing a lizard could see coming straight out of his nightmares. OMG! This was it! The end is now! My life is over, he thought.

A badger stood there, having snuck up behind him quickly, so fast, that he’d not noticed, and was bending his head toward him, with gaping jaws open.

With no time to lose, Lizard turned his head, bent his knees, and leaped for safety. But, it was too late, as he found himself in the jaws of Badger, his mortal enemy. This was it. Goodbye cruel world, goodbye.

He felt Badger’s teeth tear into his skin.

 

Chapter 10

Escape! Escape! Fly away to safety! That’s what all flyers thought as danger approached. They’d been warned of that as little ones. When danger is near, to the sky you must go, as the old ones had taught.

She arose in fear, legs shaking, wings beating feverishly, and flew up towards safety. Rising, rising, she found herself above the fray, and saw the one who shook the earth with his approach. It was Badger. She’d seen him on several occasions, digging for dinner on cool evenings, searching for wigglers and crawlers. Once, she’d seen him below her hive, watching, watching, for what reason she was unsure.

Although his footsteps thundered in her body, she realized that another critter had been nearby, but had NOT sensed his approach…a lizard. He sat on a stump, oblivious to the approaching danger, bloated belly, staring in wonder at what was around him.

Her eyes saw it all. She wanted to turn away, but couldn’t. Badger arrived, less than a body length away from the lizard, who turned, too late, only to see teeth glistening in hungry anticipation. He tried to flee, jumping to the right, but it was too late. Badger’s jaws closed around the striped lizard, and bit down.

It was almost too much for Bee to endure. She’d been taught to protect the hive from intruders at all costs. Always help in time of need. And, well, here was a time of need, for one individual, and her natural instincts were to help, but how? She had one weapon, her stinger, but every bee knew that to sting a foe was to give up your life. She didn’t want to die, yet there was a lizard, losing his life in a most horrific way, and it hurt her to hover there in safety while he was in mortal danger.

She heard the crunch, of teeth, grinding into flesh, and saw the badger shaking his head, back and forth, back and forth, intending to break the spine of the lizard, and cease its movements. That’s when she saw it, saw the lizard’s body torn in two, one piece flying in one direction, and the other piece flying in the other. It was such a sad thing to see.

The piece that landed on the hill-side of the badger lay still, unmoving, while the piece that landed on the creek-side of the badger wiggled, and jumped, and moved back and forth. The badger pounced on the moving part, intent on killing it, and ending its struggles. He bit, and chewed, and shook that little piece with ferocity and vengeance, until it ceased its movement. Bee watched it slide past the teeth, and into the throat of the badger, now gone. Gone. Lizard was no more.

Tears of sadness clouded her eyes, knowing that another critter had ended his journey on this place we call home, and his last thoughts were of horrifying fear, and his final sensations were of intense pain. It hurt her too much on the inside, and so she turned away, ashamed of herself for not helping the lizard. She’d been taught to help, but in that moment of crisis, all she had done was to fly away, to protect only herself, leaving him to face Badger alone.

She flew up to a low branch in the tree, lighted upon it, and looked down again to see Badger slowly ambling away, his hunger satiated, and a grin on his face. Oh, wicked Badger, she thought. How could you? How could you?

That’s when she noticed the other body part, forgotten by Badger, left alone. It was off to one side, lying there in a pile of leaves, still. Very still.

She knew what to do, what she had to do. She flew down to the torn carnage, and landed nearby. Mustering her courage, she began a prayer for the dead, to honor their life, to honor their contributions to others, and to honor their death.

She buzzed softly, her wings beating a melodious tune, quickly, then slowly, loudly, then softly, a tune she’d heard others perform for fallen bees. The chirping ceased. The twittering stopped. All critters nearby ended their nightly chatter, as Bee gave of herself to this fallen critter, a song of love, a song of life, and a song of hopes and dreams.

Silence greeted her when she finished. Tears once held back now began to flow, as the pain of what she saw gripped her so strongly. It just wasn’t fair, she thought. Why?

Then, she saw a movement, just a tiny movement, maybe of a claw, a twitching claw, on the carcass of the lizard. No, she must’ve imagined it, she thought. Dead critters don’t move.

Twitch. Twitch. There it was again.
 

Chapter 11

Lizard lay still. Not one leg moved. Not one claw. This was his only hope. Lie still, absolutely still, while the tail wiggled, attracting the attention of the beast.

His eyes closed, his body rigid, he heard the hungry attack of Badger, the grinding of teeth on tail, and the slow walk of this beast…away from here. Away. He waited, and waited, intent on continuing his ruse, and living. Ha, the old beast had fallen for his trick, the greatest trick each lizard has in his back of tricks.

As a little one, each lizard had been warned to avoid the hairy beasts. Stay away from them. Run from them. But, if bitten, then drop your tail. Let it do the wiggling while you remain absolutely still. He’d spent his whole life with that tail, never facing such a danger, until tonight. And, WOW! He’d done it. He’d survived at attack of the hairy beast. The other lizards would be so impressed with his story. Just wait until I tell them, he thought.

He could hear the buzzing of a flyer nearby. Slowly, he wiggled his toes, to make sure they still worked. Then, he wiggled his back legs, then front legs, then his snout. Opening his eyes, he saw a VERY surprised bee sitting right next to him. “Surprise,” he whispered.

Bee nearly fell over in shock. “What? What?” she stammered. “I, I thought that you were d-dead.”

“Well, as you can see, little buzzing flyer, I am most certainly NOT dead.”

“How? What? Explain, please.” she asked in complete confusion, unable to put words together into sentences.

And so, Lizard explained how lizards are born with a secret defense mechanism. Some critters have sharp teeth, to bite with. Others have stingers, to inject poison with. A few have very quick feet, and can run away from danger. And some, well, they fly away from attackers, off into the trees. The lizard drops its tail, to misdirect the predator, who sees it, and focuses its energy on the tail instead of the body of the lizard. Bye-bye tail, hello more days to live.

Bee was impressed. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “I, I thought that you were dead.”

“Ha! So did I,” breathed Lizard quietly. “So, now that we’ve gotten that settled, who are you, and what are you doing here, and what was that melodious tune I heard just a moment ago?”

Bee buzzed softly, thinking of how to begin. “Okay,” she started. She’d have to explain how things worked in a bee community.

“A life that is lived helping others, is a life worthwhile, and it should be praised, and honored, when it ends. Bees work for the good of the hive, not for themselves. They’re not selfish. They help others, feeding the young, building the hive, always thinking and doing for others. Some critters that live alone focus only on themselves. They look for food for themselves. They live by themselves. They never think of someone other than themselves. Not bees. We live with others, and take care of others. So, when one of us dies, we honor them for their unselfish work. When you died, or when I thought you died, I honored you with a song of praise and glory.”

Others, hearing her words, came out of hiding. A spider. A centipede. And a few others who’d not dared to speak up yet. Her words intrigued them.

Spider sat on his web, and guilt came over him, realizing that Bee was speaking of him. He lived alone. He ate alone. He never shared his dinner with anyone. He spent his entire life focusing only on his own wants, his own needs. Suddenly, he felt a bit of shame. When he died one day, what would others say about him? They’d say that he was a selfish, killing machine, and that’s it.

Centipede crawled out from under the leaf pile, guilt pushing at his conscience, wondering about her words. Was he selfish, or did he help others? He’d lived a long life, and was quite past his youth. Would others say that he was kind, helpful, or giving? Or not?

Lizard had not spoken with such a wise, and kind, critter…ever. Yes, he’d learned a lot from older lizards, about how to avoid danger, and how to find food, and which crawlers you should NOT eat. But, none had spoken of kindness to others. None had taught him to help others. Her words hurt him, as he stood next to her.

He turned, and walked off into the brush, his mind focused on answering that question. Did he help others?

Chapter 12

Distant coyotes began their lonely howling, calling to others to join the pack, or seeking a companion, for their nightly hunt. They could often be seen in pairs, or small groups, wandering the night, seeking hairy meals, mice, rats, moles, or lizards, if caught unawares.

Birds were settled in their nests, high above, in the trees, or hidden away on the surrounding cliffs, in nooks and crannies, safe from hungry predators, waiting for the sun to rise and the night hunters to seek refuge.

The night hunters were about, looking, listening, feeling, hungry for something to eat, while the moon crawled across the sky, sending its reflected light for those who walked about.

Spider sat on his web, waiting for dinner to fly accidentally into his trap.

Centipede snuggled in among the leaves, waiting for morning to arrive.

And Bee sat on a branch, moving slowly in the wind, observing it all. What was to become of her? She thought of tomorrow, and the rising sun, and what she would do.

Yesterday, she gathered pollen for the young ones at the hive, collecting it on her hind leg, in a large ball, at a spot with longer hairs. Yes, it made flight a bit unstable, but she‘d mastered this skill at a young age, and did it out of a deep commitment to helping the others in her hive, the wiggling larvae. Days and days of working for them, for them. That’s all she’d ever known. Well, she was not with her hive-mates tonight, and so she wondered what she might do tomorrow.

Maybe she could spend the morning seeking delicious nectar, probing with her long tongue, into the center of each flower. This was her primary source of food, and a tasty one at that. She could travel from flower to flower, lighting softly on each, and tasting, and enjoying, and doing something just for her. For her. Instead of doing for others, she might seek out her own happiness. It was easy, as so many flowers had markers, or colorful lines, showing the way.

Maybe, she thought, as she settled down, to rest, and relax, tomorrow would be about her.

 

Chapter 13

Dawn arrived. The light of the sun began to chase away the darkness. Little by little, the grays and shadows of the night began to disappear, and the reds, and blues, and greens, and yellows of the valley began to show themselves in the approaching light. Trees awakened in the gentle breeze, branches creaking, leaves waving. Flowers turned themselves toward the approaching sun, eager for warmth, and the life-giving power of light. Grass waved and sprung erect with the rising sun and life was ready for a new day.

And, so was Bee. Today would be a new day for her, a day in which she lived, truly lived.

She could feel the wind ruffling her sensitive hairs along her legs, her abdomen, her thorax. It felt good. She liked it, be it gentle, or powerful. Feeling the wind gave her a rush, a feeling that only flight could match. Buzz, buzz, she pushed and pulled the muscles that controlled her wings, and off into the air she flew, lifting her body, and finally, her hind legs from the branch. She was airborne.

Below her, she saw Spider, his web a mess, due to his nightly meals. And, farther away crawled Centipede, looking up at her, as he crawled out from beneath the leaves. “Good morning!” he called to her, as she sped off into the sky.

Faster and faster her wings beat, reaching almost 200 beats per second, carrying her upwards, past the lower tree branches, past the crown of the tree, up, up, above the valley and into the upper reaches, where hawks built their nests, along the edges of the canyon walls.

She was hungry, and longed for the delicious nectar found in the distant meadow. For many days, she had flown to this feeding ground, looking for the tasty delight. There were several varieties here, and she looked for one kind this morning, a blue flower, five petals, drawing her attention with its dark hues that only certain flyers could see. Where are they? Where are they? She flew over the tops of the sharp blades of grass, her legs dangling below her abdomen, ready to alight on a flower. Keep flying.

There. She approached a flower, slowed down her forward movement, and hovered for a few seconds. First, she had to carefully inspect the flower, the petals, the dangling pollen receptors & receivers, the stem, the lower leaves. She had been taught to look first, before you land. Why? Once, when she was very hungry, on a foggy morning, she’d hovered over a yellow flower, only to notice something a bit odd, something a big lumpy, over in one corner. She backed away, hovered, and saw, to her horror, a fat, yellow spider, waiting to make a meal of an unsuspecting bee. She knew better now. And, assassin bugs, OMG! They’ll hide under a flower, along the stem, and smear sticky resin on their forelegs. When a bee lands on the flower, the assassin bug will grab them, and hold them with their sticky legs, stab them with their sharp proboscis, and suck out their innards. It’s a painful way to die. She had never been attacked by one, and didn’t want to. That’s why you ALWAYS look first before landing.

No enemies here, so she landed on the blue flower, wandering across the waving tendrils using her claws to stay atop the waving flower. Deep inside the flower, she burrowed, poking, seeking, and finding this morning’s breakfast. She slurped up what she wanted, using her proboscis as a straw. Such a delight, so sweet, and satisfying.

On she moved to another flower, and another, and another. She sampled the reds, and the purples, and the whites, and the yellows too, but found the blues to be most delightful.

This was fun. Yesterday, she ate a little for herself, and carried the rest back to the hive, to prepare honey for the cold, winter-time in which few flowers bloomed. Work, work, work. Not today. This was a day for her, to enjoy, to have fun, to play. And play she did.

Off into the air she flew, slowly at first, building up speed, then quickly. She soared above the meadow, higher, higher, then dropped down at a terrific speed, catching herself at the last minute before hitting the ground. “Wow! That was scary!” she exclaimed.

Then, zooming off into the distance, barely above the ground level, a mere body-length from the dirt, zooming past patches of grass, and flower stalks, small rocks and crushed plants. It was an obstacle course, turning left, then right, around this bush, around that stalk, then left, angling over here, then there, a roller-coaster ride of fun. Oh, how she loved to fly.

She lighted on a large boulder, to rest and clean herself. Pollen stuck to her legs, accidentally gathered during her foraging. She used her forelegs to clean her antenna, and her middle legs to clean her abdomen. Her hind legs? Whoa! What a mess. They were covered with gobs of sticky pollen, as they had ten rows of stiff hairs designed for such a thing. Today, she did NOT plan on taking pollen back to the hive, and so she discarded the pollen, leaving it scattered on the rock. Once clean, she danced about on the rock, doing a little figure-eight, pretending to tell others where the fun was. Oh, she’d told them many times…where tasty nectar was, or loads of pollen, but today, it was all about having fun. So, she danced, and vibrated, and hummed out the directions for this valley, to no one. She laughed, then decided to try something new.

She walked to the edge of the boulder, leaped, then when barely a few body lengths away from crashing to the ground, she beat her wings, and landed, sending dust flying in an arc around her body. “That was fun!” she exclaimed. So, she did it again, yelling “Yee-hah!” as she plummeted to the ground, catching herself in a hover barely above the dust. Again, and again she dropped. Such fun!

She flew over to a large flower, atop a single stalk, landing at the base in the dirt. How fast am I, she wondered? And, can I climb this? I am a flyer, yes. But, am I also a climber? Today, I am. Up she climbed, six legs working together, pinch and move, pinch and move, claws and legs carrying her up, up the stem. Reaching the top, she stood there, six legs planted on the petals, and she looked off into the distance. This is what life is about, she thought to herself, doing, and being, and jumping, and climbing, and flying. It’s not all just about others. It’s also about me and living for me.

Her life had always been about helping others, gathering nectar & pollen for others, keeping the hive warm in the winter for others, caring for the little ones. Others, others, others.

“Today is about me,” she repeated aloud. 

Chapter 14

Spider awoke to see Bee flying upwards and away. She was gone. Her words had stirred feelings inside him that he hadn’t had in so long. The loneliness of his solitary life had become “normal”. He was accustomed to feeling sad, to having no friends, no one to talk to. The pain had been there for so long that he didn’t feel any other emotion. Now, he wanted to feel something good, something fun.

Today, his life would change.

The first thing he had to do was to get rid of this web. It had served its purpose overnight, catching food for him. Now, it was a mess, with several holes where flyers had flown into the web, struggled, then freed themselves. There were also several dry husks that had once been full of delicious juices, so tasty, but now gone, as he’d already had his fill.

He wandered over to the middle of his web, and started eating, one thread at a time. Around and around he went, eating the silk that was designed to capture prey. Once the spiral was done, he went to work on the spokes that angled outward. What was left was only a few strands, joining two branches of the tree, in a triangular shape.

Okay, he thought. What would I like to do? What would be fun? I could rebuild my web. No, I do that every day. I want to do something different. Think, think, he told himself.

He saw a rollie pollie walking directly under his web. Ah, food. He wasn’t a hunter, like the jumping spiders. And, he didn’t use a sticky line, like some of his cousins. He laughed at the thought of so many legs, walking, walking. Wait, he had an idea.

Spider shot down on his drag-line, grabbed the round little crawler, and lifted him high into the sky in such a quick motion that Rollie had no time to form himself into a ball. He screamed in terror, as his fourteen legs were left dangling in the air, clawing and reaching for something to hold onto.

“Ahhhhh!” he screamed. “Ahhhhh! Let me go!”

Spider let him go, sending him flying up into the air. Rollie had not expected that, and now feared for his life. He quickly rolled into a ball, and prepared for the impact of crashing down to the earth. Forming a ball was his way of staying alive, avoiding danger.

Spider saw the round critter fly up, and then return back down, landing in his arms. He descended down to the ground, placed Rollie down, and waited for him to open back up. He waited, and waited. Spiders were very patient critters. He could wait.

Finally, the ball cracked open, and fourteen legs started wiggling, and moving, and Rollie righted himself. He was a bit dizzy, and wondered just what had happened to him. He looked around, to the left, and to the right, then heard someone say, “I’m up here.”

Craning his neck, he saw Spider, the maker of webs. Oh, how he hated that web-maker. So many of his family had been snared by Spider, some becoming dinner, others just stuck until they wasted away in hunger, pleading for help, only to become a dry husk after many days.

“Wanna try that again?” Spider asked.

Rollie looked at him like he was insane. “What? Are you crazy? Why would I want to fly into the air, and be tossed around like garbage, then crash down to the earth and die?”

“Ummm, you did notice that you didn’t CRASH into anything, and you didn’t DIE,” replied Spider. “Wanna try that again?”

He was right, Rollie thought. I didn’t die. I flew through the air, like a flyer, and, most importantly, Spider did NOT eat me. “What is going on?” Rollie asked. “Why didn’t you eat me?”

Spider just laughed, “Ha, ha, okay, okay. Look, today is a special day. I’m not eating anything today. Today is my day to play…with others. I’ve spent my whole life eating anything that got close to me. Everyone is scared of me. They don’t like me. I have no friends. And, well, I’m tired of it. I want to play. So, how about it? Wanna try that again?”

Rollie wasn’t so sure about this. Was it a trick? a mean trick?

As if he could read his mind, Spider said, “Trust me. I won’t eat you. I just wanna play. Are you ready?”

Rollie was curious, and wandered closer to Spider. “Okay, but don’t let me fall,” he begged. “I bruise easily and sometimes my feet get sore and…”

This time, Spider pulled on the drag-line, making it tight, tight, very tight. He wanted to bungee up as fast as he could, like a sling-shot, and see how high he could make Rollie go. He grabbed hold of Rollie. “Don’t curl up into a ball. And, don’t close your eyes. Ready, one, two…”

And, on the count of three, he sprang into the air, pulling the scared little crawler with him, all of his legs a-wiggling, his antennae twitching, and a blood-curling scream escaping his mouth, “Ahhhhh!”
He flew through the air, rising high above Spider’s home, and in among the lower branches of the tree. Then, down he fell, legs wiggling, though he forced himself to face his fear, and NOT roll into a ball.

“Oomph!” he landed in Spider’s arms, and was carried back down to the ground, safely, almost as quickly as he rose.

“OMG! That was awesome! That was so cool. I flew. I actually flew. I can’t believe it. At one moment, I was on the ground, just walking around, and then WHOOSH! I flew. Wow! Can I do it again?”

Spider smiled, for he knew that he’d begun a day that would be like no other day. He’d opened himself to others, and helped another critter find happiness. Yes, today would be a grand day, a day he could be proud of.

As the morning wore along, dozens of Rollie’s family and friends came out and joined in the fun, doing somersaults, and back-flips, and sometimes going up in pairs, two at a time. Spider was ever careful with his new friends, encouraging those who were afraid, and complimenting those who did the best tricks. Yep, this was a truly majestic day, and he owed it all to the sad musings of a lonely flyer.

And, just off to the side, in among the damp leaves, lay Centipede, watching quietly, and smiling. 

Chapter 15

Centipede was quite the happy runner. He sat under a pile of leaves, listening to the world above, critters waking, and wandering, enjoying the delights of the day. Undetected by others, he was safe from predators, for above him was a blanket of red and black flyers, six-legged creatures, waking from their nightly rest. He laughed at the thought, to have only six legs, while he had thirteen pairs of them, to move him quickly to the next meal, or away from a hungry eater.

The sun sent its warmth through the leafy canopy, down to the ground below, where hundreds of ladybugs rested. They were eager to begin their day, of foraging for food, soft, green plant-eaters called aphids. Mmmm, tasty. Each beetle had one thing on their mind, after a night-long fast…breakfast.

But, they had to be careful, for there were always predators out there, birds that hadn’t yet learned to avoid the foul-tasting spotted beetles. Red, a warning to stay away. And, crawlers, like the assassin bug, the lightning fast attacker. Or, the dragonfly, noisy in its hover, with powerful jaws to end a ladybug’s search for food.

Fifty aphids. Mmmm. That would be a good day’s food. But, ladybugs had to watch out for the ants, for they protected the aphids. And ants have powerful mandibles, to tear, and rip, and kill. They protected aphids, and in return, they received the tasty honeydew that aphids secreted from tubes at the rear of their bodies, a sweet delight for the ant willing to stand guard.

Centipede watched the ladybugs, moving, walking, stepping on each other, lifting off in flight, and returning. His eyes settled on one, crawling across a fallen branch, up the near side, then atop, and over. He thought of Bee’s words, of helping others. What had he done for his whole life? Was it meaningful to others? Had he helped anyone find their own happiness?

As quick as lightning, he sprinted toward the fallen branch, then up, and over. Grabbing the ladybug with his claws, he carried him to an empty patch of dirt, and set him down. Ladybugs knew how to stay alive when facing imminent death. Feign death. Pretend to be dead. She flipped over on her back, stuck her legs straight up, and secreted a pungent smelling liquid from her knee joints.

Wheh! The smell was horrible, like a rotting carcass. Typically, predators would get one sniff, and off they’d go, unwilling to eat carrion, or a dead critter. That could make you sick.

“You’re NOT dead. I know that you’re faking it,” Centipede laughed. He took his front leg on the right, gave the beetle a flick, and watched him spin, and spin, and spin, legs twirling around and around. It was so funny to see, and he laughed, and laughed.

As the ladybug slowed down, his head kept spinning. He tried to right himself, but it wasn’t easy, for his brain kept turning around, and around. His little legs wiggled, and twiggled, but didn’t do much to right himself, so Centipede gave him a flick, and over he went.

He tried to fly, to escape from this crazy centipede, but he just crashed down to earth. Up, he’d try to fly, then down he’d crash onto the ground. He had no balance. His equilibrium was tipsy-topsy.

Finally, his world stopped spinning, and he was able to focus on the centipede, standing right beside him, smiling and laughing.

“Was that fun?” Centipede asked.

“It was terrifying! I was scared to death! I thought I was going to die!” screamed the ladybug.

“But, you didn’t die,” answered the smiling centipede. “You were perfectly safe. I wouldn’t harm you, but I did want to play.”

The ladybug realized that his words were true. This game was terrifying, but it was safe. Ladybugs were NOT known for taking chances, or risks. They played it safe, all the time, every day. He was tired of playing it safe. He wanted to take risks. He wanted to play this game.

“Let’s do it again, please,” requested the ladybug.

Around and around and around he spun, until he was too dizzy to think or fly or crawl. He screamed in delight, “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” as Centipede brought happiness to another creature.

Other ladybugs gathered around him, watching, wondering, waiting, for their turn at this game. Centipede obliged them all, for hours and hours, never losing his energy or his desire to please.

“Get on my back!” he ordered, and six ladybugs quickly got atop his skinny frame. “Now, hold on, tightly, and we’ll go for a little ride.” They did so, not knowing what awaited them atop this runner.

Off he ran, at full speed, losing the entire load of riders on the first turn.

“Hold on!” he yelled, allowing the ladybugs to climb atop again.

Zoom, he went, along the ground at full speed, under a fallen leaf, across a lengthy twig, into a hollow log, around the inside, to the top, and back down again, then out, in a wild, zig-zagging race among the underbrush, losing no one this time, and all the while hearing the excited yells of ladybugs in delight. They had never done this before. They had never ridden such a roller-coaster. They had never had this much fun.

Centipede made a lot of friends that day, hour after hour, entertaining, playing, helping. And he smiled as he realized the impact that a lonely flyer could have on the critters it came across one night.
 

A lonely bee,
getting caught in a spider’s web,
hoping to find a friend,
hoping to find happiness.

It was just one day.

What would tomorrow bring?

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.12.2010

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