"You can't put flowers on a calendar and order them to cooperate," Harlan said. "But you can learn who's feeding your bees and when. That's half the country talking to you, if you'll listen."
Caleb asked whether his bees could visit the orchard several miles away. Harlan explained that honeybees could forage over significant distances depending on available resources and conditions, but distance cost energy, and there was no guarantee that bees near one field would service every flower a farmer cared about. Weather during bloom, competing forage and the locations of suitable nesting insects mattered too. Caleb wrote the distances in his notebook and drew circles around the Voss farm, understanding at last why the placement of colonies could influence whether an orchard received reliable visits during a short blooming period.
At school the jokes began almost as soon as warmer weather brought the smell of beeswax to Caleb's jacket. Somebody called him the Bee King in the cafeteria. A boy in his science class asked whether Caleb intended to propose to a queen. He laughed at the least cruel remarks, ignored the rest and discovered to his surprise that the jokes bothered him less after a successful inspection. He did not have to persuade anyone at lunch that the bees were real. He had watched the queens lay eggs and the workers raise new brood with his own eyes.
The older farmers were less playful and more skeptical. At the feed store one morning, Caleb overheard his uncle Vernon tell Thomas that a boy who wanted a future in agriculture should spend his free hours learning about tractors instead of rescuing dead insect houses. Vernon wondered aloud whether Caleb had developed an unhealthy fixation, the kind of teenage phase that would fade once somebody put him to work on something useful. Thomas said little, and Caleb, standing behind a rack of fencing supplies, waited for his father to agree.
"He's working plenty," Thomas finally said. "And he's learning to keep records, make repairs and budget. I've seen worse ways for a young man to spend his time."
Vernon gave a dismissive shrug. "You letting him turn the back of the farm into a junkyard?"
"No," Thomas answered. "I'm letting him see whether a thing that looks like junk has a use. And if it doesn't, he's responsible for clearing it out."
Caleb stepped outside before either man could see his face. He had known his father wasn't against the project, but it was different to hear him defend it when Caleb wasn't meant to be listening. That afternoon he worked through his chores without being reminded and repaired the loose hinge on the equipment shed door, a small acknowledgment of the trust he did not yet know how to thank his father for directly.