bumblebee, kindred spirits and, not so
appreciative others
© 2025 Iony Smith
Falling upside down, its tiny, setae and plump belly, plopped
before my reclined body with gazing eyes drawn to this clearly
(obviously), distressed bumblebee.
I watched its leg-lift disturbance and became saddened as its
slowing motions suggested terminal, culmination was near.
Such a surmise made many times before and likely again, through
witnessing the final throes of a depleting wellspring, having no
idea how it graced upon the scene so intimately, in a space now
sharing together.
With this smallish figure struggling yet with the outcome
presumptuously determined, a tear trickled down my cheek. To end
its convulsions using a screwdriver as a compassionate guillotine,
a quick off with its head concluded the
turmoil (mine as much as the insect). The separation was (I
hoped) painless, yet I was not the recipient of such force however
succor in my intent.
On a chisel I had been using to clean lawn mower blades, I
gingerly lifted the parts and walked them to a grassy knoll just a
few feet from the concrete floor of my workshop. There, into
the wind went the bumblebee along with my goodby. Weeping
silently. to such happenstance interactions provided a momentary,
yet needed pause.
Whether such acts of mercy were (and are) misguided and contrary
to some cosmological balance, rather than allowing this modest imp
to (and for) itself, control its last breath without pious
intervention, I know not. Might the devise of control
be more of an accommodating appeasement of/for ultimate
submission?
The certainty of inevitability whether resisting or surrendering,
be it within anthropomorphic prose or conjuring up a rhythmic and
upbeat form of ontological reflection, is how such endings resolve
for all living organisms, I guess softly.
My similar connection or reverence to the sucking female mosquito
upon piercing the skin and consuming the blood (part of their
reproductive necessity), would be a profound falsehood - swatting
and squashing this invading vector, for me, is a dry eye event
with little remorse.
No remorse at all, however, is extended to the tick, that lowly,
parasitic arachnid. A most recent encounter with its
burrowing and extraction from my arm, and taking several days for
the itchy swelling to subside, is not an attachment based on
empathy nor a salubrious and coveted joining although, a tick
might click its tiny feet at such perceived delectable delights.
Irrespective of its service in the food chain (birds, lizards,
vermin, etc.) and, its impressive universally earned odium that
must surely rival the mythic attributes of the all mighty
cockroach, the scurrying and skating roaches for my two cents, is
preferable to the stealth and subterfuge of that nasty,
inconsiderate tick.
In most cases, can't even feel them bite as they first inject an
analgesic to prevent detection, thus allowing their feast (on my
blood) to last longer, nah, ticks you can plainly see, are not for
me.
