Honey, it’s Hot in the Hive.
It was hot, very hot, and had been since the early hours. Despite the oppressive heat, Queen Beatrice was doing her duty whilst gently singing her favourite hymn, ‘I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, till all pollination is complete, in England's green and pleasant land.’
Pausing, she summoned her trusted confidante, Drononimus.
Drononimus was loyal and his only wish, indeed his clear purpose in life, was to keep Queen Beatrice happy.
‘One is very hot and tired.’ As if swooning, Queen Beatrice closed her eyes and added meekly, ‘Be so kind as to fix the air conditioning.’
‘Leave it to me Ma’am,’ was Drononimus’ only reply. Withdrawing backward in the normal way after addressing the Queen he summoned the Head of Air Conditioning.
‘Zzir, you zzent for me.’ The Head of Air Conditioning sounded like the gently whir of a fan. He bowed gently and waited for his master to speak.
‘Yes, I did.’ Drononimus drawled rather pompously, which was a characteristic he had when addressing any worker. ‘Please improve the air conditioning. The Queen is very hot and tired and we need Her Majesty to be a lot cooler.’
‘Zzir, the workerz are doing what they can. Speed is at the maximum and it would be dangerous to go any higher.’ The Head of Air Conditioning made the point by wiping a front leg across his droopy antenna.
‘Hmmmmm…then get more workers up here now.’ Drononimus said with an impatient edge to his voice.
‘But Zzir, I have no more resourceezz at my disposal, all the other workerzzz are out on collection dutiezz.’
Exasperated, Drononimus rolled his big eyes and then waived the Head of Air Conditioning away. He thought for a while. Here was a problem - a big one at that. Too much heat, less eggs, less eggs would mean less workers, less workers, less honey, less honey - well that wasn’t worth thinking about.
If Drononimus had learnt one thing, then it was how to say things that others wanted to hear. Moving back into the Queen’s presence, he caught her eye and the Queen summoned him to speak.
‘The Head of Air Conditioning says that his workers will create maximum thrust to produce a pleasant current of air,’ Drononimus informed the Queen. He knew that the sun was already well over the highest point and the temperature would naturally drop. ‘Maybe tomorrow would be cooler anyway’, he thought, but just in case the heat was here to stay, Drononimus realised that he had to come up with a plan and fast.
As the evening came and temperatures cooled, Drononimus congregated with his fellow Drones in their favourite section that they called the Gentlemen’s Club.
As was characteristic, each of the Drones went on and on about a topic and this evening’s one was the incessant heat. They all agreed that so early on in the season they had never experienced anything like it. Drononimus felt drowsy but he could not help dwelling on how he was going to keep the Queen cool if the temperature continued to rise. He posed the question to those around him and was met with blank looks.
He was irritated by the constant drone of complaints and the lack of ideas as to how the hive could be cooled. Then he softened his attitude as he thought, ‘What have we experienced? We have never even been away from the Queen. How are we supposed to come up with bright ideas?
In thinking about the lack of experience of his fellow Drones, Drononimus suddenly had, what seemed to him, a rather brilliant idea and immediately informed the Drones, ‘Let’s talk to those that have been outside, let’s talk to the Consultantz. Tomorrow, I am going to give the ants a call and ask for their advice.’ The Drones looked at him with their big eyes and he took their silence for consent.
As was customary at the end of the day, two guard bees, Milly and Flor chatted on the landing strip of the hive. Milly asked Flor, ‘Have you ever heard the Queen burp? I am interested because I want to know whether she gives a royal pardon.’
