Aquarian Age Stories for Children
The Tired Little Worker
by
Dorothy V. Baird
I'm tired of working," said the little
Honey Bee. "Guess I'll just roam around and see what I can find."
So, with these words the little Bee, who had been busy making
honey like the other bees, left the pleasant work of taking the sweet liquid
from the flowers that called her with lovely smells and pretty colors, and went
deeper into the dark woods.
Under the big green leaf was a little yellow Buttercup so the
Bee stopped and chatted a while with her. Her merry round face welcomed the Bee
and the Buttercup asked why the Bee was not working this fine day.
"Oh, I'm tired out. I think I need a rest," she
replied.
"That is too bad; you should rest when you are tired, all
right. Don't wander away too far though as there are many strange plants in
these woods. I often hear the insects talking about loved ones who have become
lost. There is one big plant that really looks pretty but it is very bad."
"What does it look like?" asked the Bee.
"It is sort of brownish green and has very many large sharp
teeth and an awfully big mouth and nose . It seems like it is never, never
filled up, always hungry. It doesn't smell nice like flowers either, so if you
can't smell anything sweet, be careful; it may be the bad flower," warned
the Buttercup.
"I'll be careful and I'm not going to stay long anyway.
Just roam about a little," said the Bee as she flew away.
First she lit among some cool ferns. Their fine feathery leaves
made her think of lace. She sat on the fern and swung back and forth, just like
boys and girls in a swing do. The gentle breeze made her nice and cool and made
the fern move so the tired little Bee didn't have to work hard to swing. She
felt so rested and happy that she fell asleep in her swing.
She slept for some time and when she awoke the rain had started
to fall and in vain she looked for her sister bees but they were gone. She
became afraid and flew here and there and when she was too tired to fly any more
she lit on the nicest, smoothest big leaf that gave her shelter from the rain.
Her wings were a little damp so she just stood there for a minute and whirred
them until they got dry.
"I might just as well look around a bit until it stops
raining," she said. "My, my, this is a funny flower. It doesn't smell
very nice either."
Of course, she had come across many that didn't smell nice so
this one did not worry her. Long ago she had forgotten the warning from the
little yellow Buttercup.
"What funny long sharp teeth it has, and oh, my, how far
down its throat I can see. Wonder what is down at the bottom? I guess I'll go
and see," cried the Bee.
Very slowly she walked to the edge of the flower where the long
teeth were and again peered deep down. She saw something small moving way down
there and as it was a little dark in the woods she couldn't tell what it was at
first. She looked a long time and finally made out a Red Ant. He was trying to
say something to her but she couldn't hear him, his voice was too weak.
"What did you say ?" she called.
"Mmmm, mmmm" was all she could make out.
"Call louder, I can't hear you," she cried once again.
Very feebly came the voice from way down there beyond the sharp
long teeth.
"Go away. Don't come any nearer or you won't be able to get
out. I will never be in the sun again nor walk with my brothers and sisters. I
was tired of working so ran away yesterday and came in here to see what I could
find. Now I can't get out."
"Oh, you poor little thing," cried the Bee.
Then, suddenly she knew--it was the big bad flower that took you
and never let you go again if you got beyond its long teeth. With a little jump
she landed on the outer edge very much afraid, and began to cry.
"Why did I go away? I'll never leave my sister workers
again. I would rather be busy anyway. When I'm idle I get into trouble. Oh dear,
I wish I could find Queen Bee;" she wailed.
She sat there for a long time until the sun came out again and
the light became brighter. Soon she heard the buzz of the bees while they
carried the sweet liquid from the flowers to make honey. She called once more to
the poor Red Ant but he was very still now and could not talk, so with a little
tear in her eye for him, who, like herself, had not wanted to work, she flew
back to the bees and was happy to do her part until the sun sank behind the
trees and the flowers whispered. "Good-night."
In her prayers that night she remembered the poor little Red Ant
who would work no more and said she would be sure to go back and thank the
little yellow Buttercup for telling her about the big, bad flower that kept bees
and ants that didn't want to work or help their brothers and sisters.