Swarm

I have kept bees for more than five decades and understand Rose Whitmore’s fascination with the whirling vortex of winged insects in flight. Even to the seasoned beekeeper a swarm is an awesome sight — and a frightening one, I’m sure, to those unfamiliar with honeybees. Whitmore’s essay about the loss of a parent reminded me of a connection I formed with a fellow beekeeper.

My neighbor, whose seven colonies of bees were visible from my apartment window, was old enough to be my grandfather. One afternoon a swarm left one of his hives and swirled over my apartment. I followed it down the street, where it disappeared into a hole in the side of a house. I told the beekeeper, and thus began a relationship that lasted nearly ten years.

My friend eventually began to need help lifting the bee boxes and managing the bees’ seasonal care, and I assisted him whenever I could, especially after he was hospitalized and bedridden. It is part of beekeeping lore that when a beekeeper passes, the bees sense their keeper’s demise and fly away. Superstition or not, the day after my friend passed, a swarm issued from his backyard and left for parts unknown.