Spreading mulch in my garden, I felt a sharp sting on my wrist.
Guessing correctly, a small bee tumbled out of my sleeve when I shook my arm.
As my skin reddened, the bee crawled on the ground and twisted on its wing near wet grass. I carefully relocated it to a dry wood chip. The movement of the bee slowed as it tried to crawl and got nowhere. I watched it move one direction or the other, not straying from the flat chip.
The bee’s only defense took its life. A terrible cost for a moment of fear, even if instinctual.
For humans, most of the time, a mistake made in fear does not usually spell death.
I forgot the pain, but not the bee. I checked on it a few minutes later and it lay still. Ten minutes later though, it was gone.
It was apparently not a honeybee, the only kind that die after stinging, a fortunate turn after an unfortunate meeting.
Shouldn't...but Do 