Bees, Smoke & Sticky Pads: Hidden Camera Catches Hive Drama! Report #003 “The Shed of Secrets”

Hive One, hero of the story, survivor of the Great Mite War 20 days ago—has been thriving since undergoing chemical treatment. Mite casualties: significant. Half-sister satisfaction: high. Half-brother effort: still nonexistent.

But the peace was short-lived.
Today... he returned.

Erik enters, holding a canister. Burlap and paper? Check. Glowing stick of fire? Double check. The smoker awakens, sending confusion pheromones into the air and smothering our coordinated defense mechanisms like a wet towel on a dance party.

He approaches Hive One.

There’s always one human who thinks setting things on fire before visiting is a friendly gesture.

He lifts the lid. No gloves. No face net. No protective headgear. Just raw skin and unwarranted confidence.

A red metal tool appears. Scraping commences.

He removes the two sticky mite pads—battle-worn, covered in the squished remnants of parasitic invaders. But instead of respectfully disposing of them, he… taps them on the hive?!

Sir. This is not a percussive instrument. These are my sisters you’re tapping.

Several disoriented bees fall off. No casualties, but definitely some bruised egos.

He inspects the frames.. He's fixated with the brood.

He wasn’t looking for honey. He was looking at our babies. WHY, Erik? What secrets do you seek from the next generation? Are you training them to do taxes? Or just checking if we’re behind on our pollen quotas?”

Still no gloves. And strangely… the sisters didn’t mind. In fact, they seemed calmer. No flailing. No stingers. Just… curiosity.

Could it be? The gloves were the real enemy all along? Have we been misjudging the goofy-hatted, padded-fingered menace?”

He finishes up, replaces the frames like he’s tucking in old friends for a nap, and closes the hive.

We may never know why Erik checks the larva with such interest. Or why he insists on wearing paper and burlap to smoke us out like ribs on a barbecue. But today, one thing is clear:

Sometimes, the absence of gloves reveals the heart beneath the hands.

I’m Beatrix Buzzwing. Stay safe, stay sticky, and always question anyone carrying both fire and a smile."