As I sit here by the bay window overlooking our lawn and the river, I am seeing a new and unique power shift take place. My dear bride is a lover of hummingbirds, and as such, always has a feeder for them hanging on the front porch from spring through fall. They are … mean. I know, I know, those unfamiliar with them think their wings are powered by unicorns and fairy dust, but trust me when I tell you that if God allowed them to grow to the size of crows, they would impale everyone and wipe out all life on the planet except for themselves.
And then they would turn on each other. These are the greediest, most selfish creatures I have ever seen. One will guard the feeder at all times and ruthlessly chase away any others who come near it until a stronger one dethrones them. There are multiple feeding ports, but there is no sharing.
Enter the honeybees.
Earlier this year, we set up two hives and purchased two colonies of bees. This is our first foray into the apiary world, and we are absolutely loving it. The bees themselves are amazingly docile. I can walk right up to the hives and change out the sugar water with no protective gear at all, and they do not bother me in the least. They do get a bit antsy whenever we open the hive to check on them, but you would too if some creature 100,000 times your size casually lifted the entire roof off your home and started pulling rooms out.
Back to the current power shift, though. At this moment, the bees are in sole possession of the hummingbird feeder and are teaming up by twos and threes to chase away any hummingbird that attempts to access it. Those razor-sharp beaks are not helping the birds in any way. The bees are wielding the threat of their stings to devastating effect.