I recall one day my daughter and I drove thirty miles and then realised we had forgotten the smoker.
The yard was a Ross Rounds yard with thirty hives and the bees were New Zealand golden bees. They were as nasty as hell and the only good thing I ever had to say about them, other than their gorgeous colour, was that they all died the first winter.
Anyhow, we were not going to drive all the way back to get the smoker so I did the job.
My bee suit was tight on the belly (for some reason) and the bees could sting right through. They took full advantage.
When I got home my wife counted over one hundred stings on just my belly. We did not count the stings on my shoulders and back.
I felt just fine. No big deal, and we did get the job done.
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