Ryers Readers - Kaia and the Bees

Episode Date: August 9, 2024

**Thank you for your understanding while I am away! Here is an exclusive Patreon episode from the Ryers Readers Patreon! I hope to be back to our regular scheduled programming in September!**

Let's do this! A big hug and a high-five to all the Ryers rock stars and red carpet celebrities! Before we get into today's story, do you want to know a fun fact? Did you know that honeybees are the only insect that makes food eaten by humans? About one-third of the food we eat is the result of bee pollination. Pretty cool! Pretty cool, huh? Okay, story time. Today, we have a super special Ryer's Reader's request

from a red carpet celebrity. Fiona would like to hear Kaya and the Bees by Marybeth Bolts. I hope you enjoy this story, Fiona. Let's do this. I am the brave type, like hottest hot pepper brave, and furry spider in the basement brave. But one thing is a big,

Something super scares me. Bees! Bees have stingers. Once I stepped on a bee, barefoot, and it stung me. And right now, thousands of bees live on our roof. Bees. Bees. Bees! So many bees. Dad says honeybees are dying, and scientists don't know exactly why. Dad reads bee books, and talks about bees non-stop. Fruits and vegetables need to be pollinated to grow, he says. I crunch an apple. Bees pollinated that apple. How about blueberries?

Those too, he says. The world needs bees, and that's why we're beekeepers. But only he goes on the roof with the beehives. Not me. And the kids in my building, I go on and on to them like I'm the beekeeper, and oh man, they listen. But I get all twisty inside because I'm not exactly. Then the days turn hot. We're all playing in the hydrant water, and who shows up?

A bee! It circles my head, buzzes my ear, and lands. Ready? Right on my arm. I'm crazy. screaming and waving you're a liar Marcella says Hector laughs and says real beekeepers don't freak out over one little bee I go inside mad and stumpy and I grab my suit and gloves from the closet I want to see the bees I say oh dad says let's go check on them now Dad zips my suit. I put on my hood, gloves, and boots until every jittery inch of me is covered, head to toe to fingertip.

I follow behind Dad up the stairs. He pushes the open door. There, on the roof. Beehives. Bees crawl in and out of the little hole. Some bees have bright orange and yellow puffs stuck to. their legs. They're carrying pollen, Dad says. Antiprise opened the lid. All of a sudden, bees are everywhere. A flying buzzing, zipping cloud. My hands shoot up to swat. Dad means business.

Stay still, Kaya. Breathe. But I hold my breath. Dad pulls a frame from the Peahive box. Both sides are covered in crawling, wiggling, bees. He studies the frame one at a time. Then he pulls a frame out and holds it out for me to take. Me? The liar or the brave girl? My head is soaked with sweat. I blink hard.

I reach. And here. Here I am, scared to death, but holding a thousand bees, maybe more, between my own two hands. The bees are electric, buzzing and buzzing. I'm electric too. Let's find the queen, Dad says. I hunt and I hunt, then I spot her. Dad gives me a thumbs up.

So far, so good. Bees are perched on sticks floating in the world. their water tub. I watch them balance and sip and I can't believe they actually look cute. I add fresh water to the tub. Oh, wet glove. I strip it off, grab another stick, and a bee stings my finger. I ball, who wouldn't? That bee was alive, it vibrated, and its stinger stuck my skin. Dad scrapes it off. I run water over my finger and what's left is a mad red patch. I'm never, ever going near those bees again.

Dad does the bee chores alone. He invites me every time but doesn't push when I say no. One day, he says the honey is ready to harvest. I'll help, I say, but no bees, right? We work all day filling jars and mopping. There is honey on the floor, on the table, on my elbow, on the doorknobs. Who cares? We're all laughing about the magic happening right in our kitchen.

The honey flows and I want to draw a picture. But no crayon is as golden, and you can't draw the smell of warm, sweet honey filling our apartment. It's a mystery, isn't it? Dad says. I feel it too. That a bee, just a bitty insect with one stinger, two pairs of wings, and six hairy legs can make honey. While dad goes back up on the roof, I lift the honey jars so the sun sparkles through, and I line them up dreamy on the windowsills. Then I spy something crawling up the curtain.

Wait, two! I screech, grab a swatter, and wrap myself in a towel like a mummy. I watch every move. Those bees nose from one corner of the glass to the other and along the edges, like they're hunting. Maybe they don't want to sting me. ding me. Maybe they want a way out. That's all. I put down the swatter. Then I wrestle that squeaky, old window open, just an inch. And those bees fly out. Dad and I go for a walk when the sun is setting. I'll go on the roof again, I tell him. I will, because bees are amazing and scary and

mysterious and we need them. And when I say those B words and the me words, nothing inside me is twisty because now something inside me is brave. The end. Don't forget to stick around to see if you can answer today's paying attention question. Before you go, do you think you can answer today's paying attention question. Where does Kaya's dad keep the bees? If your answer was, on the roof, you did it. Great job. You sure were paying attention. I hope you enjoyed that story. I wonder what we're going to read next. Bye Fiona. This is Fiona. I would like to request Taya in the peace. Thank you.