My family usually travels a lot, but the pandemic postponed a trip to Alaska with my in-laws by a couple of years. At the end of May, we finally made it! After a long flight (after an even longer layover at Chicago O’Hare), we got our first glimpse of the Alaska Range from the plane.

One (very short!)  night in Anchorage, then we headed east to Girdwood, where we saw our first wildlife–a black bear trudging along right outside our house. We were so excited, no one thought to get a picture, so you’ll have to take my word for it. It stopped, looked at us, then went on its way.

There were quite a few birds in the area, including a varied thrush. I would have loved to have seen one of these. We never did, but wow, did we hear them! Their call sounds like a referee blowing a whistle, so it sounded like there was a football game going on in the forest. And since it never got completely dark at night, it went on and on and on.

We took a day trip to Prince William Sound, which requires a drive through a tunnel. It’s a single lane, so traffic has specific times when it travels in each direction. But that’s not all: The tunnel is also used by a passenger train! Here’s what it looks like inside. Those are train tracks in the middle of the road.

And here’s what it looks like when you’re waiting to drive through and a train arrives.

The highlight of the day was a six-hour glacier cruise. We saw dozens of glaciers, watched some calve (break apart), and saw lots of wildlife: seals, hundreds of sea otters, half a million (really!) kittiwakes and other sea birds.

The only thing we didn’t get to see was a whale. We had high hopes. Apparently some had been in the area recently, but they must have moved on by the time we got there.

They had activities for kids, too. But my reptile-loving family could have spent the entire day at the herp table. (Herp is a term for reptiles and amphibians–people who study these critters are called herpetologists.) No amphibians at this event, but there were lots of scales in attendance! Check out a few of my favorites:

The four-year-old alligator who was perfectly content to just lie in my hands. He’s got his legs splayed out to maximize contact with my hands, since they were warm. I have to say, I never would have thought I’d call an alligator adorable, but this one really was! There’s also a young speckled king snake on my shoulder, if you look closely. Not sure how it got there, but my boys held just about everything and may have decided it was time to pass this one along.

There was an orange corn snake that happily curled up on my arm, but this fox snake wasn’t up for sitting still. It kept trying to hide in my hair:

The picture’s blurry (I moved as I tried to get the snake out), but you can see its head poking out (circled).

We didn’t hold all of the reptiles, though. A pair of rattlesnakes remained safely out of reach, as did this cobra:

Ssssimply marvelousss!!

Lucky for me, I was part of an Exotic Animals Day, so there was lots to keep everyone entertained even without enough books on hand. We had four tarantulas (three different types), three scorpions that glowed under a black light, a thelyphonid (AKA whip scorpion), a brown recluse, and an amblypygid (AKA whip spider).

An amblypygid is featured on page 94 of Weird but True Ripped from the Headlines 2, thanks to my good friend, arachnologist Eileen Hebets (who also provided many of the critters for the morning’s activities).

Thanks to the Bookworm for inviting me to be part of such a great event!

Today, we had more than 50 adult volunteers overseeing planting by the entire student body–more than 500 students!

Everyone, from kindergarteners to fifth graders, helped put in plants.

Some kids were getting dirty for what may have been the first time. And they loved it. It was fabulous!

Later this week, we’ll add the mulch. There are unplanted areas (off the path) where classes will be able to gather to investigate nature. Or take measurements for math. Or write poetry. Or read. It’s really a  multi-purpose classroom.

Okay, it doesn’t look like much–yet. But all of these plants will be huge next year. And blooming. And it will really be something. I can’t wait to see how it looks!

The schools is one of 30 in Nebraska that is part of the Sustainable Schoolyards Partnership. The funding we got as part of the SSP is allowing us to convert what was a muddy, mucky walkway into a space planted with lots of native trees, shrubs, grasses, and perennials–a low-maintenance space where kids can get outside and learn about the nature that grows here naturally.

An army of volunteers started installing it on Saturday. Tomorrow, the entire school will help finish planting. Over 500 students and parent volunteers will put in around 300 plants. It’s going to be amazing!

When that happens, they rear up some new queens by feeding eggs a special substance called “royal jelly.” (Tasty as it sounds, you probably wouldn’t want any, as it comes from a bee’s head–oh, wait, so does honey.)

Then the old queen and half of the worker bees leave the hive in search of a new home.

They swarm.

A swarm of bees looks terrifying! Thousands of them in a big clump–it seems like you’re under attack!

Er. No.

Swarming bees are searching for a new home. Because they don’t have a hive to defend, they’re unlikely to sting, and they have absolutely no interest in you.

Scout bees check out potential places, using a special dance to report back with their findings. Once a good spot is located, the swarm relocates there.

All those other bees? They’re just hanging out around their queen until they get word it’s time to move on. (The queen releases a pheromone–a scent–that keeps the bees close.)

Now as a beekeeper, you don’t want your bees to move on. You want them to settle in one of your hives. So when a hive swarms, you don your protective outfit, get some helpers and go collect those bees.

How? Well, in my experience, one person stands under the swarm with a hive box, while another gives the branch a good shake, hoping the queen and enough workers land inside that they’ll settle.

Somehow, I always wound up as the person holding the box.

No, I don’t have pictures (this was in the days before everyone had a camera phone, and we were far too busy to be snapping photos). But you can imagine what it’s like.

It’s warm outside, a bit sweaty under all those layers (even if they are white). You’ve got a heavy wooden box balanced on your head and you’re just waiting for the bees to land. What’s taking so long? You peer out to see what’s going on and realize they’re about to go. You duck back under, bracing yourself for impact.

And then it comes–thousands of bees crash land on top of you, the weight knocking you down for a second, the buzzing everywhere at once. (But don’t worry, the bees are confused, not angry.)

You set the box down and get a lid on it, hoping you got the queen. Because if you did, the workers will begin to build comb and the colony will stay. But if you didn’t, you’ve lost the swarm.

It was sort of like this, but with a much bigger drop before they landed on my head, er, in the box.

Life’s an adventure!

So I said yes.

And I absolutely loved it.

Our hives looked a lot like these, only ours had big numbers painted on them. That way we could keep track of which colony our bees were from. Honey bees live in colonies of up to 60,000 individuals–all of them sisters from the same mom. (Think you’ve got issues with your siblings? Imagine what it would be like living with thousands of them!)

I’d get suited up, fire up the smoker, and crack open the lid of the hive. Smoke poured over the bees inside, keeping them calm, and I could check to see how they were doing. Was the queen laying eggs? Were there lots of workers? Did they have enough honey to get through the winter?

Then I’d find a frame for the lab’s research. A typical hive has 10 frames in it with a wooden outer, well–frame, that holds a thin layer of wax. Bees build their waxy comb onto that base, so it’s easy to pry a frame loose and lift it out to see what’s going on inside the hive. Bees store different things in different parts of the hive. Some frames contain honey, others have growing bees, called “brood.” Brood frames were the ones I needed. But not just any brood  frames would do.

I had to find one with bees that were just about to emerge from their pupal stage. After the queen lays an egg inside a cell (a six-sided opening in the wax), worker bees called “nurses” take care of it. The egg hatches, and the nurse bees feed the growing larva until it’s ready to pupate. At that point, the workers seal up the top of the cell, closing off their little sister until she’s ready to come out.

And that’s what I was looking for: bees that were just starting to emerge. I had a special carrier box to take the frame back to the lab, where we kept it in a nice warm room that mimicked the conditions of the hive. Once a day, we removed the bees that had emerged, putting them in containers, so we could study their behavior.

It was fascinating. So much so that I stayed in the lab for four years, until I graduated and left town. And bees (of all kinds, not just honey bees) now hold a special place in my heart.

Sometimes it’s worth stepping outside your comfort zone. That’s where the magic happens.