On a sunny morning in the middle of a blossoming meadow, Bea the Bee hummed happily to herself. Today was a special day—the day when bees gathered honey from the prettiest flowers.
“Oh, how my little legs tickle with excitement!” twinkled Bea. But she soon felt a droop inside her when she remembered that the other bees of her hive were too busy at home processing what they had already gathered. They could not help her. “Oh, dear!” she sighed.
But quickly putting such thoughts away, she put her sting upon the soft petals of a nearby flower, and gently swung herself about. She held out her legs to gather a store of good yellow powder, which she would take home: for honey is really nothing but a special nectar from the prettiest flowers, in which has been mixed the fine yellow powder from their hearts.
Then, with her legs laden, she gently thrust her head into the tiny fountain of sweetness that flowed from the flower, and began to sip it. Very soon it filled all her little crop, or honey-bag, where the nectar is kept. Taking her tongue out of the open flower, she saw some pollen drops on it, and tucked them in the useful storehouse. Then off she went to another flower, where the same process took place again and again.
“Soon,” thought she, “I shall have to go home. It is so lonely with no one to talk to.” She was just tired enough of working alone to wish for her company, when she heard a buzzing overhead. up flew same shyal Buzzy the Fly, who stopped before her, and said cheerily: “May I come with you, Bea? It looks such fun gathering honey. I wish to learn how.”
“Oh, yes, do come!” replied Bea joyfully. “Only be careful not to scratch your legs against the rough petals, and remember to take off the pollen rubbed off on them in some dainty flower’s mouth. It is very bad for flies, the doctor says,” she smiled.
“Well, if it is bad for me, with respect, Bea,” said Buzzy quaintly, “I don’t see why it should not also be bad for you! It’s a pity, now, that bees will be so wilful sometimes,” he continued, bobbing his head forward reassuringly.
When Bea heard this, she laughed merrily, and flew on, taking her new friend with her. He learned everything in a trice, and with his help the honey-bag began to increase rapidly in size. But all at once, just as Bea had filled it to its utmost, she said, “Now I must go home!” Buzzy looked up incredulously, and said, “But it will take hours for us to empty the honey-bags. You must give me a ride, and let us get most of the work over first, before we go for more honey.”
So Bea bent down, and Buzzy climbed onto her back and held on tightly with his legs. Away they zipped through the sunny air, flashing their pretty stripes all over the daisies.
When the bee-hive was reached, what a commotion there was! All the bees in their yellow homes came swarming out to hear Buzzy tell how cleverly he had been taught by Bea, and so polite was he that he landed just outside their door, and never in the very doorway, as many flies are. And while he cleaned their legs, the others unpacked the honey-bags and flew gaily back for more.
Soon the hive was filled with honey, and the bees all gave three ringing cheers for Bea and her little helping friend.
“I see now,” said Buzzy reflectively, “how silly it is ever to work alone if you can get a companion.”
The moral is the more we work together, the more we can get done.