The boys laughed, and for a moment the pressure of responsibility relaxed into something that resembled an ordinary teenage summer. They sat beside the equipment shed drinking lemonade from a plastic jug and watched workers return to the entrance carrying nectar they would never taste. Dylan asked whether Caleb had figured out what all the work was supposed to become. Caleb considered pretending he knew, then told him the truth.
"I think the orchards need bees," he said. "I think there used to be enough keepers here that nobody had to arrange it. Now there aren't. If I can keep enough colonies healthy, maybe I could move some of them during apple bloom and bring them back here afterward."
"Like renting out cows?"
"Not exactly. But close enough, I guess."
Dylan looked across the yard. "That would mean all this garbage was actually worth something."
"The garbage isn't worth much," Caleb replied. "The bees are. Keeping them alive is the work."
The last week of July arrived with heat that seemed to press the valley flat. Day after day the temperature climbed, the wind grew dry and the metal roof of the equipment shed became too hot to touch after noon. Cattle crowded whatever shade they could find. The creek shrank between exposed stones, and the air over the gravel road shimmered by midmorning. Farmers talked about a heat wave they had not seen the equal of in a decade.
Caleb had known hot weather could threaten his hives, so he had studied where the afternoon sun fell, placed the boxes where they received useful morning light without being trapped against reflective metal, painted exposed wood in light colors and arranged practical airflow and dependable water sources nearby. He understood now that additional ventilation could help under certain conditions but was not a universal cure; colonies also regulated temperature through fanning, water collection, clustering behavior and their own activity. He kept clean water available and checked it often, because nearby tanks and troughs could dry faster than he expected. At the hottest hour he resisted the temptation to open the hives unnecessarily.
One afternoon he found hundreds of bees gathered outside the entrances of several stronger colonies. They formed loose clusters along the front of the boxes, hanging like dark beards from the lower edges. For a few seconds he thought the colonies were preparing to swarm. Walt examined the scene and told him the bees were likely bearding, moving outside to reduce crowding and help regulate conditions inside.
"You see trouble because they're outside," Walt said. "Maybe they're outside because that's how they're managing the trouble. Know the difference before you interfere."
They checked for other signs as conditions allowed and made sure the colonies were not crowded, deprived of water or otherwise under stress. The heat did not make the bees cheerful, and there were days when Caleb worked from a distance rather than provoking them with inspection after inspection. Yet the colonies continued collecting water and visiting flowers during the cooler hours, and his records showed no losses over the worst stretch. Some had slowed their brood rearing, but they were alive, functioning and still under attentive care.