Holy moly, even The New Yorker is reporting on the bee situation. Once you get this kind of hard-hitting, brainiac journalism on the case, you know it's serious. Check out some of the information given in just the second paragraph of this six-page article:
Honeybees are the only animals besides humans known to have a representational language: they convey to one another the location of food by dancing.
When the queen lays an egg, she is able to choose its sex.
Males, known as drones, perform no useful function except to mate. They are loutish and filthy, and the workers—sterile females—tolerate their presence for a few months a year, then systematically murder them.
A single pound of clover honey represents the distilled nectar of some 8.7 million flowers.
In a week, a productive hive can add seventy pounds of honey to its stores.
So be a good New Yorker and read up on your bees. And make sure to laugh at the comics even if you don't understand them (and you won't).
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
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2 comments:
The New Yorker is BEE s.
Sometimes I can relate to how the bees feel. My girlfriend left me. I wish she just murdered me for the good of the hive.
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