A few months ago, when the virus hit, I had just moved from a large suburban home in Minnesota to a small one in a small town in California.
I was working at home, on the weekends, doing research, and I’d just gotten off the phone with a beekeeper.
He told me about his flock of yellow jackets that were trying to return to the hive when the plague struck.
The beekeepers were in the middle of their brood-shedding season and had already started putting the chicks in the hives so that they could get rid of them if needed.
But I didn’t care for it, as long as the hive was still functioning, so I stayed at home.
The following week, my husband and I went to visit the hive again.
I knew we were going to need to get back to work as soon as possible.
We left my husband’s car, my phone, and the rest of my things at home and walked around the hive.
I picked up a few yellow jackets and a hive bucket and started collecting them.
I put them in the bucket and got ready to feed them.
But then the hive started to smoke.
The smoke was thick, and it was hard to see through it.
I couldn’t get my head around that smoke coming from the hive, and so I just started to panic.
I had no idea what was going on.
What if I missed an egg?
What if the hive didn’t get all the chicks back?
Would the bees die?
What would happen to the bees?
It was the worst thing I’d ever seen, and as soon I realized what was happening, I began to panic again.
So I called my husband.
We waited for about five minutes and then we drove away.
But, of course, I’m a person who is sensitive to the world around me, so it was still very difficult to process what I was seeing.
So when I got home that night, I went through my files and started to see what was wrong.
The honeybees I was feeding were doing well, but I couldn.
I hadn’t realized that the virus had killed them off, and that meant that the colony was dead.
What was going wrong?
How did this happen?
What can I do now?
How can I get them back?
My husband and his wife and their four kids were still at work, so they hadn’t seen anything.
I started to look around my house and my garage, but they were still there.
I went out the front door and called the beekeepers to see if they could come to my house.
They didn’t have the time or the inclination.
I called the local health department.
It was Friday night, and we were in a busy neighborhood.
I wanted to get in contact with the beekeeper and ask if there was anything I could do to help him and the other beekeepers.
The next day, I called again.
This time I was in my home office, and they called me back to see how they could help.
They had already done their own hatching on the hive bucket, and now they were looking for me to do the same thing on their hive bucket.
I took them up on the offer, and after a couple hours of conversation, they told me that I could send some bees back to the beekeeping company that had just finished their hive-sheding season.
I got back the yellow jackets, and started putting them in their hives.
That was the last time I heard from them.
The bees, of the bees that were left, were fine.
But what about the other bees?
I sent some more yellow jackets to the honeybee cooperative in San Diego and they returned them to me.
That’s how I learned about the yellow jacket crisis in the first place.
After the yellow-hued jacket crisis, I continued my research, asking other bee-keepers if they had seen any yellow jackets returned.
And I found out that at least 20% of the yellow hives in California and at least 30% of those in New York had been returned.
I also found out some more information about the virus, and what happened to all the bees from that colony that had been infected.
What the virus did to the yellow hawks It infected all of the hatching larvae of the bee that produced the yellowish-orange eggs, the most common form of yellow-jacket.
The yellow jackets themselves were the ones that produced yellow eggs.
But it also infected the homing female yellow-jackets that produced blue eggs.
That means that the yellowjacket eggs had to be laid in the right place and in the correct order to reach the male yellow-jeans, which lay blue eggs, but not yellow eggs because they can’t lay them in an appropriate order.
This was the most complicated part of the