I am swimming in Lake Temescal, a gemmed oasis flanked by meadows, trees, including Redwoods and local Manzanitas, and hiking paths smack in the city of Oakland. But even before this, at Temescal Pool just down the street from Oakland Tech High School, I had the
occasion to rescue swamped bees who had, I hope inadvertently, landed in the water.
My strategy is to power the lads with a wave propelled from my held-out hand either to the pool's edge, where I would carefully get them up onto the cement to dry, or, in the back forty of the lap lane in the lake, over to a rising segment of rope near a buoy to dry off.
After an early-season rescue, I had a fly over by a bee, sweeping down low, but not so close, to my head. I wondered then if I would get a rep - from the bees, of course.
So here I am now, moved on to the season at the Lake, and I wonder as I swim: if bees communicate about direction to the new hive, or other things they need to dance to communicate about, might they be communicating about this guardian angel with red hair?
Given that I had four rescues today, some of visibly different-sized bodies, I am thinking the bees need to step it up a bit and quit their kamikazi into the water!