Haylock
patreon
33 - Pollen
🕑 Added 2023-10-25 09:36:42 +0000 UTCThe morning sun filtered through the gap in the canopy above the clearing, and the fish frame made a wet slap as its tail smacked the ground.
Corporal Claws let out a loud chirp that, if spoken in common, would have roughly translated to: “what the frack?”
Each day since the tree spirit had somehow incorporated the lemon trees into its being, the saplings had grown a little in size. Today was no different in that regard. What was different, however, was the carpet of white flowers covering each sapling. The clearing was abuzz with insects, and they darted around chaotically, pausing only to collect the yellow pollen peppering each flower.
She recollected the fish and crept forward, not wanting to spook the bees away from their task. As she walked between two of the saplings, the insects’ movement engulfed her vision, and she paused, transfixed by the sight. The buzz of so many individual pollinators combined became a cacophony, and he stood there for a long moment, happily losing her sense of self—until a root slapped her across the face.
She darted her head toward the blue-barked tree, chirping with indignation. The root that had struck her was wrapped around the fallen fish frame, dragging it back towards its trunk. Claws glared her annoyance at the impatient tree. There was no response, so walked up to it. Reluctantly, she patted its bark, praising it for a job well done.
After all, her master had planted the seeds to try and grow lemons.
She gave a toothy grin as she continued petting the tree, looking back at the flowers and wondering if they would fruit.
***
With sleep still fogging my mind and a rather cute bunny cradled to my chest, I gazed out at the ocean.
The sun hadn’t breached the horizon, yet its yellow and orange glow already tinted the world. A fitful breeze kicked up as Cinnamon lifted her head and sniffed the air, her little nose twitching away. I rubbed between her ears with one hand, delighting in the velvety fur I found there.
Together, we watched the sun rise. With our position at the end of the rock wall, it was as if we stood on the ocean; small waves peaked all around us, reflecting the sun’s light from countless undulating points. I inhaled through my nose, smiling at the world as the scents of salt and fresh air assaulted me.
“It’s a beautiful day,” I said, still rubbing Cinnamon’s head.
She squeaked her agreement and wiggled backward, settling further into the crook of my arm.
“Did you want to hide in my shirt while I get a coffee and some brekkie? I can take you to Maria’s if you wanna spend the day with her in the fields again.”
In response, she crawled up my torso, planted a tiny peck on my chin, then crawled into my open collar. I patted her through my shirt as I set off, lured on by the promise of caffeine, a fantasy croissant, and Maria.
***
“G’day, Fischer!” Sue called.
“’G’day?’” I repeated. “Where did a lovely young lady like yourself hear such a barbaric word?”
“Lovely?” Sturgill, her husband, called from the back of the bakery. “You should hear the words she uses in private. You’d never look at her the same—whoa!”
He cut off as he dodged—or was struck by—the pair of tongs Sue hurled at him from around the corner.
She turned back to me with a venomous grin as Sturgill cackled with laughter from the back.
“The poor man has an odd sense of humor. I took pity on him, which is why I agreed to marry him—isn’t that right, husband?”
“Yes, dear!” he called back, still laughing.
She rolled her eyes, but a smile had firmly taken root on her features.
“What did you want today, Fischer?”
“Has Roger been by yet?”
“I’m sorry to say he has—he came before dawn.” Her smile turned conspiratorial. “If I were a betting woman, I’d guess he was trying to stop a certain fisherman from buying his comely daughter a coffee.”
“Hmm. This fisherman sounds like an intelligent and proactive fella.”
“And humble,” she added.
“Naturally.” Our eyes locked and the twinkle in hers reflected my own. “I suppose I’ll just grab a coffee and croissant for me, then.”
“Won’t be a moment!”
I stepped back as she became a coffee-slinging blur, and as I spun to take in the sun’s beauty, an unexpected visitor approached.
“Good morning, Fischer,” George said.
“G’day, mate!” I turned to the woman beside him. “Geraldine, right? How’s it going?”
She gave me a tight smile.
“I am well this morning, thank you.”
No one spoke for an awkward moment, and their body language grew slightly agitated.
Oh, no, I thought. She gets social anxiety too, the poor thing.
Hoping to make the interaction as carefree for them as possible, I let my mouth do its thing.
“Lovely day today, isn’t it?” I asked, smiling up at the still-rising sun.
“Y-yes,” George replied. “Quite pleasant.”
“So,” I continued, not leaving a second of downtime for them to overthink. “What are you two up to? Have you come to try Sue’s famous coffee and croissant combo?”
“Yes.” Geraldine nodded, her features firming. “We have, actually.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“You have?”
“You have?” Sue repeated from behind the coffee machine, her eyes wide.
“Whoa, Sue!” I shot her a smirk. “I didn’t take you for the eavesdropping sort.”
“Oh, shush.” She threw a coffee bean at me. “I can’t help but overhear with your annoying voice prattling away. I was just surprised—the lord and lady of the village have never paid my little bakery a visit.”
Geraldine set her jaw.
“We mean to rectify that. Is that the line?”
The two farmers in the queue blanched as Geraldine pointed their way.
“It is,” I answered.
The married couple shared a glance, nodded, and made their way forward.
“Good seeing you, Fischer,” George said.
Geraldine nodded.
“Farewell, Fischer.”
It was my turn to feel awkward—they took two steps past me before reaching the end of the line, still very much within arm’s length.
“Er, yeah. See you guys.... later?”
Blessedly, Sue came to my rescue.
“Coffee and croissant up, Fischer!”
As I collected my brekkie treats, Sue arched an eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged.
“No clue...” I whispered, then shot her a wink. “Good luck.”
As I walked past George and Geraldine, I noted the resolute set to their jaws, and when I stepped between the first set of fields, realization struck me.
“Ohhh! They’re trying to push past their social anxiety!”
I shook my head, feeling a fool for not realizing sooner.
“Good for them. I hope it helps them feel more comfortable around people.”
Cinnamon’s head popped up from my collar. She nodded sagely, agreeing with my assessment.
***
In a sea of common honeybees, a lone bumblebee flew from flower to flower.
The beats of his wings were slow and sporadic, a far cry from his usually steady wingbeats. The simplest answer to his state of being was that he was a long way from home. There was a complicated tale, too: one of a tasty treat, an accidental bee-napping, and a fight for life and death. The bumble bee, being an insect with little to no cognition, was aware of almost none of this, of course.
With a shaky and halting flight, he had been on the verge of his final rest when he caught the scent of something downright delicious in the air—honey. Though the scent of another hive’s honey had initially lured him along, something even more enticing soon caught his attention—something that wouldn’t require a fight to the death.
Pollen.
Blessed, harvestable pollen. It smelled of home, and following its scent, the bumblebee found a reserve of strength he wasn’t aware he possessed. There was a carpet of white flowers spread out before him, and a sea of other bees harvesting pollen from them. Unlike the ground wasps he had encountered, the common honeybees didn’t bother him—they were busy collecting the means to feed their hive.
That first sip of nectar had been the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted—better even than the honey he had eaten while confined in the wooden prison. He buzzed with delight, a large portion of his exhaustion falling away like flower petals after pollination.
When his rear legs were filled to the brim with pollen and both his stomachs were filled with nectar, he looked for a nook to create a hive. Once he could create some royal jelly, the bumblebee could recover from his wounded state. More importantly, the royal jelly could attract a mate. Of course, the bumblebee was too far away for the scent of his creation to reach a female of his kind. As always, he was but a bee, so he was blissfully unaware of this tragic detail.
With the promise of survival and the prospect of creating a hive that would attract a mate, the bumblebee took flight, his movement even slower now that his legs were full of blessed pollen. He followed the path of the honeybees, knowing that if he found a nook near their hive, the other colony could serve as a natural defense.
A more devious creature would also consider that the smell of their honey would be much more enticing should a predator come knocking, but this just bumblebee wasn’t that sort of insect. Or perhaps he didn’t have the requisite brain for devious planning, but the result was ostensibly the same.
The honeybees he followed streamed into a thick trunk, and as he watched their comings and goings, something caught the bumble bee’s attention.
Right next to the beehive, set on the grass beside the trunk, was a white box with a tiny hole. No honeybees entered or left the box as the bumblebee made his ponderous approach. The moment he landed on the hole and crawled inside, he knew he had found his new home.
He ambled forward on faltering legs, climbed onto a sheet he could make wax chambers on, and, tapping into his last reserve of strength, began creating his first ever batch of royal jelly.
***
Beneath the midday sun, I took a deep breath.
The fishing club had returned in the morning, and after a couple days of working with her father, Maria had asked for the day off to come fishing. I’d been impressed with Roger’s lack of a blow up—he only called me a fool twice during the entire interaction. Well, he had implied it a couple more times, but that was progress.
By our combined efforts, we’d caught four more fish to have for lunch, along with a bunch of undersized ones we let go. The smell of them roasting over the fire made my mouth water.
I’d kept a single juvenile shore fish; it had been bitten by something while Theo reeled it in, and I doubted it would survive. Because of its small size, it had cooked faster than the rest of the fish, and it now sat cooling on the campfire’s edge.
Returning my attention to the task at hand, I pressed the head of my small axe down against the tip of some bamboo I’d harvested, and with one last push, a sliver of fibrous material flew off. I glanced down at the bamboo’s sharpened end, nodding.
“Excuse me, Fischer,” Ellis said.
“What’s up?” I asked, peering back at him.
“What exactly are you doing?”
I poked the sharpened end of a bamboo pole into a raw, unscaled fish on the sand before me and lifted it up.
“I’m fishing, mate.”
He blinked at me for a long moment, and just when I thought he was going to ask another question, he shrugged.
“That’s it?” I asked. “You’re not going to enquire further?”
Maria snorted.
“He’s already worked out that asking questions is just going to lead to a frustrating answer, and that he’s better off just waiting to see what happens.”
“Quite,” Ellis agreed, reading his pocketbook.
I leveled a glare at them.
“You guys aren’t any fun at all.”
“In our defense,” Theo said. “Your idea of fun is just confusing the frack out of everyone.”
“I thought that was everyone’s idea of a good time? It’s not my fault you guys have terrible taste.”
I planted the unsharpened end of bamboo into the sand and started waving it around slowly with the fish high above.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Keith’s eyes shot between me and the top of the pole. “What on Kallis are you doing?”
“I told you, Keith—fishing.”
“Right. What are you fishing for?”
“Birds—well, a bird, I guess.”
Danny rubbed his chin.
“Wouldn’t that be called birding?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, mate—that’s...” I cocked my head. “Huh. Yeah, that might actually be correct.”
Maria rubbed her temples, and when she looked back up at me, I shot her a wink.
Her eyes moved past me, narrowing on something in the distance.
“Is that...?”
I turned, and the moment I spied it, a grin split my face.
“Here it comes...”
Comments
Haylock Jobson
I took some creative freedom with the bumblebee for future narrative reasons; I'm not sure if such a bumblebee exists IRL.
Eidetic Eidolon
I know. Can you imagine that poor, pitiful bee? He's just churning out honey and royal jelly forever and ever, just praying for a mate... By the way is there actually a type of bumblebee that works like this? Because my cursory look around the interwebs didn't find one.
Beeees!
Hungry hungry pelican is on thier way haha. Also now imagining this bee ascending and tirelessly creating a one bee hive full of honey
