Bee all, bite none

THE lime tree is laden with blossoms. From one of them a bee falls on the brown hard-packed earth. Stunned, it remains motionless for a few seconds, its wings spread out in pathetic and ungainly surrender. With a convulsive effort it crouches, its wings moving spasmodically and feebly up and down while its abdomen twitches. It humps and arches its thorax, its rear legs working rhythmically, its front legs flexing.

Suddenly it rolls over onto its back, all six legs bending and unbending rapidly while it squirms around blindly. Surprisingly, this strange gyration yields positive results for, quite unpredictably, it is now back on its legs and is beginning to crawl towards a dead, curled up gray leaf lying nearby.

Before it can reach the leaf, an ant appears from nowhere and makes a pass at it. What actually happens is impossible to say, but the consequences are spectacular. The antennae wave convulsively while the ant scurries away in a wide sweep, seemingly routed. The bee limps around in two tight circles as if in its death throes, its wings dropping forlornly, its legs moving in jerks and tremors.

A few seconds later the ant returns to attack, this time with a companion who approaches from the opposite side. From where exactly the second ant appears is a mystery for the surrounding surface is completely barren and no other ants are visible in the vicinity. Now both ants converge on the bee simultaneously and in coordinated unison and, once again, something inexplicable happens in that swift encounter. The bee gives a galvanic spasm which is followed by writhing and wriggling. As before, both ants are repulsed and scurry away in two large semicircles.

Watching the bee, I lose track of the ants and when I once again scan the surrounding surface they are nowhere to be seen. As mysteriously as they came, have they vanished. The bee resumes its laborious journey towards the dry leaf.  On reaching it, all movement ceases: no twitching, no fibrillation of the wings. I stoop over it and conclude that it is dead, that the ants have dealt it a death blow. I wait for them to reappear and claim their prey. The wait is futile because the ants never returned. If the ants assumed that the bee was as dangerous in death as when alive then why the earlier confrontation in the first place? Probably the buzz of the bee permanently scared them, yet another incident to remind us of the adage that barking dogs don’t bite!