Tofu and the Bumblebee

The bees’ knees were clattering noisily as they leaped from one flower to the next. So noisy were they that Tofu, the inimitable squirrel, who was the king of all he surveyed, was distracted in his search for acorns and nuts.

“Silly Bees,” he scoffed impatiently.

“What’s wit’ you, squirrel?” asked Darvon, a bumblebee, annoyed. He had appeared as if by magic.

“Why do you bees have to make such a racket?” Tofu wanted to know. “I was getting along splendidly until…”

“You’re looking for food in this garden,” Darvon interrupted him. “Without bees, you wouldn’t have trees and plants and things. You should be glad we still show up and do our work, in spite of climate change, the destruction of our habitat and pesticides and all the rest!”

At this, Tofu frowned unhappily. “There have always been just skads of bees,” he pointed out. “So, what if there weren’t any bees? How would that change things?” he wanted to know.

“Bumblebees pollinate 70% of plants, accounting for one third of the trees, flowers and foliage used by man — and squirrels,” revealed Darvon.

Tofu was impressed. “I didn’t know that,” he admitted. “Bees have always just been around, and I didn’t know that what they did was so — profound! I don’t think I could live without my Japanese maples,” said the little squirrel, staring back at his favorite deciduous tree. “What can I do to help youse?” he asked with concern.

“Well,” said Darvon, “the next time you see a human bean spraying pesticides, drop an acorn on their head. We got to get the word out there, Tofu. We ain’t got much time left before there’s no going back.”

Tofu nodded, in the way that squirrels do.

“It’s like anything else,” said Darvon, warming to his subject. “Take democracy: you take democracy from one group, then next take it from another, and before you know it, nobody’s safe? You know what I mean?”

Tofu, who understood little of deep concepts such as democracy, only nodded. “You think we should form a committee?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s a little late for that,” said Darvon. “The end is nigh,” he remarked.

So, Darvon went back to pollinating plants, and Tofu resumed harvesting his future winter stash of loot, their mutual dilemma just on the edge of their minds.

Bill Tope