While photographing bees I noticed one very different, solitary type. Measuring only about half an inch in size, it danced about me, a frisky creature in metallic blue and black. But before I could focus my camera on it, it had vanished. I spent the next four days trying to catch on digital camera this elusive blue bee. The beautiful, furtive creature had caught my imagination. It's free solo life appealed to me, much more than that of the organized, robotic honey bee.
Where does this blue bee make its home? How does it find a mate? My first attempts to photograph it only came up off focus and were from too far away. I would stand there in frustration, feeling much like that character Snoopy (from that famous comic strip Peanuts) who, —perched atop his doghouse, World War One pilot's helmet and goggles on, —would yell: "Curse you, Red Baron! I'll get you yet!"
But after the second day, I knew more or less where he liked to buzz. My Blue Baron favored the French Lavander blossoms in full sun. Next I noticed him just quietly "parked" on a very slim twig. He had his legs tucked in like an airplane after take-off, while he gripped the tiny twig with his mouth. One early morning after a rainy night I found him drying out under the first rays of the sun in a hibiscus; and next morning, there he was on an unopened yellow gazania. Finally my camera caught Blue Baron in midair! I can't seem to find him these past days.
Winter is setting in. What a buzz I got from chasing this delightful blue bee. Bless you Blue Baron.