This summer, I went to Italy for almost four weeks. Oh man, it was freakin hot there, like 40ºC every day, so I mostly stuck to the coasts. After five days of roasting in Rome and a day in Napoli, I took the overnight ferry to Sicily, and then I travelled around by regional train. This brought me around to Catania, from which I took a day trip to Mt. Etna, an active volcano.

I didn’t book a tour, but took the early-morning bus from the train station to the foot of the mountain, where you had the choice of hiking or taking the funicular in either (or both) directions. A tour at the top was mandatory. I chose to take the funicular up, and then hike back down.

A mountain rescue

An interesting thing happened while we were at the top. One of the women I was with noticed a bumblebee lying on one of the volcanic rocks. It was cold, so cold that my shorts and shawl seemed like an unwise choice (though thankfully I didn’t suffer for it). The bees that try to fly over Mt. Etna could succumb to the sulfide gas that the volcano emits in cloudy little puffs. Or it could be the long flight up, and the terrible atmospheric cold. And then there’s a complete lack of available fuel once you’re out of the foothills. In any case, there was a bumblebee on the ground, and it needed help.

So I swooped in with what I had on hand: a dessert container, a napkin, the pit of a plum (for hydration and fructose), and water. I bundled the poor creature into the napkin and into the container, adding a little water to make it damp, if that’s what it needed. Then, as we were done the tour, we took the bus back down to the top of the funicular.

Once there, we were guided into the gift shop, where we were fortunate to have samples of Italian honey on offer. I took a sample stick, and went to sit outside on the terrasse to give the bee some sustenance. And the creature, who I must say seemed unimpressed with its imprisonment, and yet unable to protest, was quite hungry for the honey on offer. I sat there with it for about 45 minutes, even getting seconds from the honey-sample girl (who ironically was allergic to bees and so panicked at the sight of this one. Italians, they’re so dramatic).

Hiking with a passenger

The morning having thus passed pleasantly, it was time to take the hike back down the hill. We had plenty of time, but there was more to explore. So I set off down the hill holding the container in my hand with its lid ajar. The little creature didn’t want to be sequestered. It carefully climbed out and explored my available hand. And so I, now with a passenger to take care of, had the brilliant idea of taking the honey-sample stick and inserting it into my watch band. That way the bee would have a good place to perch on the walk down the hill.

Eventually we made it to the bottom and I visited the calderas around the visitor centre. It was there – it had been a couple of hours now, and the descent saw an increase in ambient temperature – that the bumblebee thought it might be time to test its wings. I crouched down behind a boulder, while it walked around my arm, buzzing its wings, until it took off. It flew in circles around me, landing on my lunch bag and on me a few times, and then it returned to the napkin “housing complex” I’d assembled for it. I could tell it was still hungry, and wanted to rest a while more.

So I continued carrying it with me through landscapes like these.

A post-hike meal, and time to relax

Again, to our great fortune, a honey kiosk was parked on the road back to the funicular building. I showed the bee to the attendant and asked for another honey sample for it, and he graciously complied. I was getting hungry myself, so I was going to have to find an outdoor place to dine.

Back at the centre, it took some quick work to get in to use the bathroom and line up at the cafeteria for my own meal (at least there was no actual line). I made haste to return. Little Bee cooperated in this endeavour by attending to its honey sample. I’d used the contents of my bag as obstructions on the table, and put the bee under a napkin tent for safety and privacy. My pasta with funghi was not very palatable, which was too bad, but fuel is fuel… 

So I sat back and relaxed and waited for the bee to make its full recovery. The charming thing is, the bee was interested in exploring me, walking up my arm to explore my shirt. And for the better part of an hour, it seemed to really prefer settling down to rest over my heart. It was like I was wearing a brooch of a very large bumblebee.

Time to depart

When the hour was up, I became a little anxious that my new friend was good enough to go. We were meeting the bus at 4 o’clock, and I didn’t want to take the bee on back to Catania, probably 50 kilometers away. I also didn’t want to just deposit it somewhere in the wild and run away. I didn’t know what to do! So I took it for another walk, and told it I was going to have to leave very soon, and I hoped that it felt good enough to fly away home. “You have to go, now, and so do I!”

That’s when the bee started flying its test flights around me again. It flew around, then landed on me a few times… and then it landed on my ankle and tried to crawl down into my shoe (bumblebees sleep in burrows in the ground). In a bit of a panic about that, I squatted down – “Hey, git outta there–!”  

And maybe I scared it with that sudden move, because that’s what it did. It flew away before I even saw in which direction it went.

So that was a very special day, spent in the company of a very large bumblebee. I learned that not only do they know when you’re helping them, they definitely have the faculties of recognition and trust.

I hope that this became a story in the bumblebee culture of a time when one of them flew too high on a too-cold day over a big volcano, and fell to earth, only for a giantess to rescue it and give it honey and carry it back down to where it would find familiar plants and landscapes.

Then again, perhaps they’ve been telling each other this story for thousands of years. It’s conceivable that some of the ancients did the same sort of thing, when they had a reason to go walking with the gods on Mt. Etna.