Day 156: The Birds and the Bees

Not a drop of honey was made during the War of the Wings.

A bountiful spring led to a lustful summer led to an autumn falling out led to a winter war. No one knew why the birds didn’t fly south that winter. Perhaps it was out of spite. The bees would get no respite from the ceaseless probing beaks, so the bees remained for a long winter charge.

You could hear the fields–the incessant buzzing, like a static-tuned radio peppered with haws and shrieks. There was no birdsong during the War of the Wings. Even when the winter melted and the frozen bodies of millions of birds were uncovered surrounded by millions of stingerless bees, even in the new spring, the battle waged on.

How quickly the bees multiplied! Soon they became carnivorous, feasting on birdflesh, immune to their own toxins. And the birds left the flies and the mosquitoes and the worms alone, and the vermin infected the land while the birds lived on a bumblebee diet.

“The birds and the bees” was no longer sexual education. It was war education. Relationships go south, children. And the outcome is not always so pretty.

Broken hives. Pierced eggs. Feathers and stingers like fallen weapons. There were no winners in the War of the Wings. Eventually the mosquito population grew so out of control that plagues were spreading faster than ever. The humans’ solution? Targeted air toxins. The poison should only kill the mosquitoes, they said. They were wrong. The toxin blanketed the birds and the bees and when they ate one another it killed them as dead as mosquitoes.

So ended the great winged war. The skies would never be the same.

 


 

Today’s three random writing prompt categories were, “War,” “Birds,” and, “Hive.”

I keep imagining Elmer Fudd talking about the War of the Rings.

– H.

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