Who would have thought bee catching could be so hard? - Susan Morrison
Last week, in a tatty perspex railway shelter in Glasgow, I found myself responsible for the rescue of a bee. Said bee was like a huge furry Hindenburg and blimplike, it bounced against the perspex trying to get out. Clever this bee was not. There were only three sides to the shelter for a start.
I was equal to the challenge. In my house, I am the bee whisperer. My family isn’t keen on getting up close and personal with our buzzing friends, but I don’t mind gearing up with a glass and a bit of card to catch and release.
Pro tip - Christmas and birthday cards are great for trapping bees in whatever handy bit of drinkware comes to hand. Once, in a swift Ninja move, I seized a wine glass with the dregs of a rather nice Chardonnay at the bottom and accidentally freed my bee buzzing.
Here, however, I had neither glass nor greetings card. Time to get creative.
The only thing I could find in my backpack which would be of any use were two pages of A4 paper. Right. Channelling my inner McGiver, I managed to fold one into something resembling a small paper hat and the other into a stiff square to slide under and trap my bee.
First, catch your bee. Not as easy as it sounded, since the bee seemed to be aware that I was on the hunt and suddenly came over all Red Arrows. There were some impressive acrobatics and a lot of annoyed noises, mainly from me.
Despite the dodge and weave, I finally trapped my prey under my pokey hat, slid my stiff square into place and ignoring the outraged buzzing, raced for the big open spaces and then, released the bee.
I felt like Joy Adamson in ‘Born Free’ when Elsa the lioness bounds away across the savannah. I could practically hear Matt Munro swelling to a crescendo.
The 12.41 to Glasgow Central was running on time that day, which was unfortunate, since it barrelled slap bang into my presumably grateful friend.
Remember, there has never been a situation I cannot make worse.