Yesterday I was driving to see a friend, and about halfway there, a bee landed outside next to me on the window. I thought it would fly off right away, but it just hung on.
My first impulse was to shoo it away somehow, because otherwise it would end up miles away from hive and hearth. The problem was, there is no good way to dislodge a bee from the outside of your window while you’re driving. I tried tapping on the glass, and when that didn’t work — I was out of ideas. I considered opening the window, but I really didn’t want an agitated bee inside the car with me.
So I just kept going, watching the little bee cling to the glass and rubber. I tried to go slowly whenever traffic allowed, because one of its wings seemed to be caught in the wind and was vibrating like crazy; I kept thinking it might get torn off, which would be awful.
All this was very sad to me at first, this poor bee who had just happened to alight on my vehicle and was now traveling what may as well have been light-years from the life it previously knew.
But then it occurred to me that maybe the bee was actually On a Great Adventure. Maybe this Madison bee had been chosen by the Bee Gods to carry some message to its unknown kin in Fitchburg. Maybe it would end up mating with some other bee whom it otherwise would never have met, thereby strengthening an atrophying gene pool, sending ripples of change down through the Future History of Bee Kind, helping to bring about a great set of possibilities and potential that would otherwise have lain forever untapped.
I mean, probably it got eaten after it flew off my car in the parking lot. But maybe not. And even if it didn’t survive, at least — if only for a few minutes — it lived.