I especially enjoy watching Ambrose (the hive) around 5p, when the little ladies are returning en masse, loaded with pollen and nectar. They buzz around busily, then demurely land and mince into the hive. They are delicate and quite Martha-esque and make me giggle.

Rush hour, also, sees the return of the drones to the hive. Typically, drones spend their days congregating with other drones at a lovely shaded water hole somewhere; they pass the time by shooting the breeze and trading glory stories. Then, sometime between 4:30 and 4:45, they apparently say, “Well, guys, it’s been fun, but I need to head home for the night. The ladies are worried and won’t feel safe without my masculine protection.” They fly back and simply bomb their way into the hive. Where the workers (ladies) fly quietly and deliberately, the drones fly through the air like H2’s with wings, muscling their way around and making plenty of noise in the process; I think there’s a reason they’re called “drones.” Finally, they land and push their way over the workers to get into the hive. Beekeeping would be the source of a plethora of “gender wars” jokes.