Requiem for a Bumblebee

"To live in the hearts of those we leave behind is not to die." - Joseph Campbell

~ about the photo ~

We found a deceased bumblebee this morning, and of course a ceremony of some kind was called for. Something small, not too ostentatious.

So we wrapped him in a pretty flower, said a few quiet words thanking him for his pollination efforts and commending him to glory, then interred his earthly remains in the butterfly garden.

The pall-bearers, needless to say, were small and green, each holding up one corner of the flower we wrapped him in.

~ more thoughts on death and dying ~

Something they don't tell you when you buy a property - and possibly especially more so a property in the country - is that occasionally some small creature will come to your property in distress, possibly sick or dying, and you will be called upon to render aid. And that once in a while, you will find a dead creature and become accountable for making suitable arrangements.

When I bought my house in 2004, there was a female white-tailed deer whom we frequently encountered walking along the deck path and hanging out in the woods and yard. I closed on the house in late May, and moved in gradually over a series of summer weekends; we saw the doe quite a few times.

By the way, as a sidebar, I have talked a lot on blip about Dexter the gray tabby with white paws, who is my current beloved cat. But I have not yet spoken of Gremlin, the big orange tabby who preceded him, who lived a good long life (17 years) and died in my arms on the second day of summer in 2004. I have talked a lot about what I've planted in my yard and garden, but I haven't told you the saddest part: that the very first thing I planted in my yard was Gremlin, the cat of my young adulthood years, and the creature in this world that I loved most of all.

I am not sure I ever have loved or ever could love anyone or anything more than I loved Gremlin. When he died, I thought I might die too. My heart was truly broken. I cried every day for several years. My husband (boyfriend at the time) was also heartbroken, and he grieved fully alongside me; we took a few years off having cats, just to recover. We talked about Gremlin endlessly, my husband wrote a poem for him, we cried over breakfast. I thought long and hard before getting another cat, afraid I'd never love him as much as I loved Gremlin; and maybe even more afraid that I might. How many broken hearts can a girl sustain over a lifetime? I guess I'll find out.

Anyway, I digress: the first day of summer approaches and with it the anniversary of Gremlin's death; I admit my thoughts return to him and to our last days together every year in mid-June.

But back to the doe who roamed my property. I finished moving in in early August. On the very day that we completed the move, bringing the last of my things from the little rented house in town to the bigger house "all my own" in the country, while walking around the house, we found the reason for the doe's presence: the remains of a small fawn by the area that has since become my butterfly garden. It was obvious the poor thing had been there for some time; there was nothing we could do but move the remains into the woods (via garbage bag and shovel) - and so I cried a little and we placed the remains where the mother could still visit her baby and grieve.

Perhaps this is a somewhat depressing topic for some, but here are several of the creatures whom I have blipped, who arrived on my property in need of comfort, care, or final arrangements:

another dead bumblebee
a deceased "bright bird" (oriole)
an injured butterfly
an orphaned baby robin

All I can say is: you're all lucky I only started blipping in December. Or I'd also be linking to pictures of the dead vole that I found in the yard last summer, and dressed neatly in a little hat and suit of green leaves before interring him (or her) in what we refer to as Gremlin's Meadow. This quiet area near the back of my yard, where the plants grow tall and wild, provides solace and safe harbor to many creatures - for, to give perspective, only a few creatures have died on my property, but many, many more have lived! I named this little bit of wild space Gremlin's Meadow, for Gremlin's grave is under a shady tree nearby.

And, possibly even worse, as yet un-blipped: the deceased newt who is sitting in a container in my freezer. Yes, there is a silly part to death. It's undignified. But what newt would guess he'd end up in the freezer between the ice cream and frozen corn? (If I find newt tracks in the ice cream, I guess I'll know who left them.) The story behind the freezer newt: my husband, knowing my penchant for photographing creatures both dead and alive, brought the newt home from a bike ride one day. He found it; apparently it had been squished by a car, and he brought it home thinking I might want to photograph it. I admit that when I found this dead bumblebee, my first concept of the photo to commemorate him involved the bumblebee riding on the newt, in some sort of weird "pale rider" homage. But I thought that might be just a bit too much.

So I guess this is just me saying: You've been warned! There may (or may not) be yet another blip coming in this same theme (to be honest, it depends on how well the newt's body is preserved and how squished he is). But I guess that may (or may not) be a blip for another day . . .