We rowed back to the boat, Leopard Grouper in hand, salt in our hair, sand in our toes and feeling pretty damn good about life in general. As I boarded Selkie, however, I heard an odd buzzing that wasn’t on the list of her various and sundry moanings, grunts, grumbles, clanks and rattles. When I entered the cockpit, they riled up. 50 some odd honeybees, all gathered thirstily about Wylie’s water dish, rose and surrounded the general area. When they realized that I was more salt than water, they decided to let me live.

They were actually pretty pleasant, as far as a swarming mass of bees go. I slowly and quietly shooed them away with a big straw hat, and they pretty much ignored me. They hung out for about 15 more minutes after the water had been dumped, and then they flew on, looking for the next puddle of sweet water. The bees were actually much more enjoyable to be around than the marauding bobo flies that follow us wherever we go. But that’s another story for another day.

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