A bee or not a bee?

I have some catching up to do, so bear with me. Two weeks ago, Werty and I were having a discussion. Because we live near a big park, we have a lot of bees around. Werty is happy about this fact, because when we lived in Provo, he hadn't seen a non-yellow jacket bee for years. And you hear about the cataclysmic effects to food production if bee were to die out. Then there was the study that showed how cell phone frequencies are sometimes close to the same frequency bees use, which cause the bees to become confused and fly in an adrenaline-like rage until they fall over dead. So, this discussion was about what a hornet really is. I remember some other child during outside play pointing to one of those big, fat oversize bees that are sometimes white and black instead of yellow, and telling me it was white because it was called a hornet, not a honey bee, and they were something to be feared because they could sting you multiple times. Someone later told me that yellow jackets could also sting multiple times, but they weren't as big a "hornet" so the sting wasn't as bad. Honey bees (as Werty calls them) or "bumblebees" (as I was raised to call them) on the other hand, die after they sting you. We have all come across a dying bee at some time in our childhood which has lost it's stinger, so all evidence seemed to suggest that my information was accurate. Well, Werty tells me, no, those are just big, fat, fuzzy honey bees, and that hornets have smooth bodies with long thin abdomens. I knew what he was referring to, after all, hadn't I just removed one of those brands of hornets from my kitchen the day before? I had just assumed there were too types of hornets, just like there are two types of bumblebees.

So, my sister and I take our kids to the park on Friday, two days after Werty and I had this discussion about hornets and whether or not big, fat, fuzzy bees can sting more than once. We are chatting, and I feel something on my leg, just below my knee. I doesn't shake out, so I reach up my pant leg to investigate, and it's definitely something alive, some kind of bug. Please be a junebug, please be a junebug, I say in my head as I lift up my pant leg to reveal one of the biggest, fattest, fuzziest and ANGRY bumblebees I have ever seen. One of those bees I was incorrectly taught to call a "hornet." It was about an inch and a half long. Once I got it removed from my leg, it crawled around for a few seconds and then flew away, a very healthy creature. It left behind a small tingling, burning sensation and a number of red spots.

That afternoon I got to call my sweetie and tell him, guess what honey? They may not be real hornets, but I have proof that those big, fat, fuzzy bees can sting multiple times and live to sting again! The next day I counted 5 different sting sites, starting at where I first felt the bee near my knee, and ending 4-5 inches lower where I had finally extricated it. I am guessing it crawled up the boot cut pant leg of my jeans, and then crawled on to my skin only when it couldn't go any further. My sister felt like some good came of this, other than me being right about bees, because her daughter is scared of bees. She thought that seeing someone else getting stung and surviving it with very little drama might help her overcome her fear. Let's hope so.