Bees and Stings

I have discovered that I do not know enough about bees.

The phone call came yesterday, from Ivan's father, to say that Ivan had stepped on and been stung by a bee while on vacation at the shore. Ivan's father was talking hospital, Benadryl, infection. I told him that the good news was that we would shortly know whether or not Ivan is allergic to bee stings - a useful thing to know, I believe. Ivan, similarly practical, had screamed bloody murder upon being stung, but all he had to say about it when I spoke to him on the phone was, "Now I feel better."

And the good news is that he is not, in fact, allergic to bee stings. Good news, since one day I would like to keep some bees.

I was asked if the sting could really have been perpetrated by a simple honeybee - rather than a wasp, or a hornet. How did I know it was a bee? Well, I didn't. I hadn't been there. But I have stepped on plenty of bees - plain, unsuspecting honeybees - in my lifetime, and been stung. People do not like to believe that kindly, useful creatures like honeybees can inflict such sharp pain. But we all have our defenses, and the most docile among us will sting if provoked.

Ivan and I took a walk around our town just a few days ago, and discovered hundreds of honeybees working a large lavender bush. We were transfixed. Ivan said, "I've never seen so many bees before!" And, "Mommy, they're not stinging me!" Of course not. They are far too busy gathering nectar and pollen, and in any case honeybees don't sting unless they are very scared, or we do something to hurt them, I told him. He understood, and understood days later why the bee at the shore had stung him. Even for a three-year-old - maybe especially for a three-year-old - the logic of nature is simple and fully comprehensible.

But what about these bees? In southern New Jersey, where I live and where Ivan is on vacation with his father, who are these bees? What species? Are they different from honeybees elsewhere?

Stay tuned.