I was surprised - though I had been informed of it - at the distance to which the village bees go for flowers. The tiny bee which we thought lived far away there in a flower-bell in that remote vale, he is a great voyager, and anon he rises up over the top of the wood and sets sail with his sweet cargo straight for his distant haven.
How well they know the woods and fields and the haunt of every flower!
If there are any sweet flowers still lingering on the hillside, it is known to the bees both of the forest and the village.
The rambler in the most remote woods and pastures little thinks that the bees which are humming so industriously on the rare wild flowers he is plucking for his herbarium, in some out-of-the-way nook, are, like himself, ramblers from the village, perhaps from his own yard, come to get their honey for his hives.
I feel the richer for this experience. It taught me that even the insects in my path are not loafers, but have their special errands. Not merely and vaguely in this world, but in this hour, each is about its business.
The flowers, perchance, are widely dispersed, because the sweet which they collect from the atmosphere is rare but also widely dispersed, and the bees are enabled to travel far to find it.
It is not in vain that the flowers bloom, and bloom late too, in favored spots.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 30, 1852
No comments:
Post a Comment