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Did you know that bees in a hive operate with a “swarm mentality” or “hive mind”? It’s this fascinating group thought process that happens among social insects, like bees and ants, in a colony. I’m not exactly David Attenborough, but after a quick dive into this, it’s clear that their collective behavior is as synchronized and unified as if they had a single mind guiding them. It can get unnerving if you think about it too much, especially if you’re not fond of bees.
I’ve always felt more comfortable around bees, probably because I was taught from a young age to see wasps as the bad guys and bees as the good guys, like Dumbledore in Harry Potter—essential, kind, and unlikely to sting unless provoked. Swatting wasps was okay, but a fallen bee needed rescue, complete with a yogurt cup and a bit of sugar water.
Still, seeing many bees together can be unsettling. If you’re into quirky novels, “The Bees” by Laline Paull is a great read from a bee’s perspective. The idea that their shared purpose forms a mega-mind is intriguing. But things could fall apart if they didn’t have a common goal. Imagine if bees acted like humans do, just doing their own thing, living in tiny hives instead of one big one. The chaos would be unimaginable.
Picture it: “Where have you been, Brian?” Geoff asks indignantly. Brian strolls in, covered in pollen. “Here and there, Geoff,” he nonchalantly replies. Geoff scolds him for slacking off, but Brian, free of the hive mentality, couldn’t care less. He’s been up to mischief with the Queen Bee against all norms. He’s a rogue bee with a unique mindset.
Imagine if ants didn’t have a swarm mentality either—it would be chaos. They’re like little precision machines, working together seamlessly. But if one ant decided to break free of the norm, it could cause havoc. The rest would quickly put him in his place.
So, what if all these insects had complete free will? Would they just wander around aimlessly? Would bees see a flower like we see a nice hotel room—just a place to relax and take it easy? Would freelance bees work as hard as those tied to the hive mind? Or would they procrastinate through the morning only to crunch all their work into the afternoon?
If I were a freelance bee, free from the hive’s influence, my day might look something like this:
5 am: Peek out of my little hive. Too early. Still dewy. I hate getting wet—it takes forever to dry.
6:30 am: Dew still present. More bees are heading off to work, but I’m still grooming in my mini-hive.
8 am: Dew levels acceptable. A sudden pollen breeze drifts in, a perk of living near a wildflower meadow. I dive right in.
9 am: I get a call from work about my absence. Not in the mood. I’m enjoying my pollen high too much to care.
10 am: Bored. Can’t go outside without being spotted by the hardworking bees. Disguises aren’t really effective, so I just watch them work.
10:10 am: Regret kicks in.
10:30 am: Try connecting with the hive mind. It’s fuzzy today. There’s some drama in the rose garden, but mostly silence. Time for a nap.
11 am: Do a little workout to trim my growing belly and clean my pollen baskets, awkwardly placed on my legs.
11:45 am: Disguised as a bumblebee, I clumsily squeeze into a flower. It’s more like trying to shove a cat into a trumpet. The disguise is hot and cumbersome.
11:53 am: Struggling, I feel like I’m overheating. These bees use heat to deal with threats, and now I get why.
11:56 am: Spotted by Pieter from management. Not a good look, especially as I’m overheating from the disguise. He calls me out on my absence with a rhetorical question.
Noon: I finally head to work.
Next week: What the life of ants looks like.