For some odd reason, humans seem to think they’re smarter than other species. I’m not so sure.
Take the human vs. bee battle. Who usually wins that one? Not the human.
We scream wildly when attacked by bees, sprinting out of bushes or woods to attempt to find safe territory, swinging our arms like a crazy species. Then we get stung, maybe once, maybe seven times, and have swollen, painful, itchy parts of our bodies for days. Nope, I’m not so sure. The bees have something over us.
Recently in the Human vs. Bee battle, the alpha male human was mowing down buckthorn in the woods behind his house. Using technology to hum and destroy, the invasive species fell like whiskers dropped by a sharp razor. The human felt good. The bees waited in their lair.
When the time is right, the bees attack. Sting once, sting twice, repel the human. The human slaps his arm, swipes at his back, retreats to safety.
The human regroups. Rethinks his strategy. Still feels he is smarter than the bee, that he can get the best of the insect. The bee smiles to himself.
As the human wades in, using his superior brain to continue chopping down buckthorn in the exact same location where the bee just attacked him, he heads confidently deeper into bee territory. The ground bee attacks again, stinging the human twice, who slaps feebly back, trotting out of the area as the bee dive-bombs repeatedly. Finally, the human is far enough away for the bee to retreat.
The seemingly intelligent human walks back into the buckthorn to further destroy the invasive species. “That’s enough,” the bees say, “you are stupid.” They attack instantaneously. The human backs off, deciding he has sweated enough for one day as a reason to head home and take a shower, put lotion on the bee stings. Day One Tally: Bee scores twice with stings.
A couple of days later, the higher-evolved-species human returns, figuring maybe the bee got lucky, threw a couple of strikes at the human, but has now moved on to a different location. The human fires up the weed whacker, trudges into the thicket. Two, three smaller bushes fall to the blade before the alpha bee re-emerges in full attack stinging mode. He pursues the human relentlessly until he scores again. Tally Day Two: One sting for the bees.
A few days later finds the supposedly alpha human recalibrating his intelligence and choosing to move elsewhere to continue his mission of buckthorn destruction. Drawn to the same location for some inexplicable reason, he trudges down the hill, thinking, “Humans are smarter than bees.”
He mows the buckthorn savagely, bushes toppling in rapid clumps. He achieves a solid rhythm.
It takes a few minutes, but the alpha ground bee targets the human, puncturing him twice rapidly in the left bicep, once on the right wrist and once on the upper part of the back. The human seems to learn a lesson and rather than jogging out, he sprints to safety 40 yards away. The bee scores again. Tally: Bee scores knockout victory with four stings. Human leaves, choosing to move on.
The human should, can and does learn. That is one thing on his side. By failing and flailing, he learns (if he is to accept a mantle that he has a certain degree of intelligence). Do better next time. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. Try not to go insane. It’s a worthy goal.
Take the human vs. bee battle. Who usually wins that one? Not the human.
We scream wildly when attacked by bees, sprinting out of bushes or woods to attempt to find safe territory, swinging our arms like a crazy species. Then we get stung, maybe once, maybe seven times, and have swollen, painful, itchy parts of our bodies for days. Nope, I’m not so sure. The bees have something over us.
Recently in the Human vs. Bee battle, the alpha male human was mowing down buckthorn in the woods behind his house. Using technology to hum and destroy, the invasive species fell like whiskers dropped by a sharp razor. The human felt good. The bees waited in their lair.
When the time is right, the bees attack. Sting once, sting twice, repel the human. The human slaps his arm, swipes at his back, retreats to safety.
The human regroups. Rethinks his strategy. Still feels he is smarter than the bee, that he can get the best of the insect. The bee smiles to himself.
As the human wades in, using his superior brain to continue chopping down buckthorn in the exact same location where the bee just attacked him, he heads confidently deeper into bee territory. The ground bee attacks again, stinging the human twice, who slaps feebly back, trotting out of the area as the bee dive-bombs repeatedly. Finally, the human is far enough away for the bee to retreat.
The seemingly intelligent human walks back into the buckthorn to further destroy the invasive species. “That’s enough,” the bees say, “you are stupid.” They attack instantaneously. The human backs off, deciding he has sweated enough for one day as a reason to head home and take a shower, put lotion on the bee stings. Day One Tally: Bee scores twice with stings.
A couple of days later, the higher-evolved-species human returns, figuring maybe the bee got lucky, threw a couple of strikes at the human, but has now moved on to a different location. The human fires up the weed whacker, trudges into the thicket. Two, three smaller bushes fall to the blade before the alpha bee re-emerges in full attack stinging mode. He pursues the human relentlessly until he scores again. Tally Day Two: One sting for the bees.
A few days later finds the supposedly alpha human recalibrating his intelligence and choosing to move elsewhere to continue his mission of buckthorn destruction. Drawn to the same location for some inexplicable reason, he trudges down the hill, thinking, “Humans are smarter than bees.”
He mows the buckthorn savagely, bushes toppling in rapid clumps. He achieves a solid rhythm.
It takes a few minutes, but the alpha ground bee targets the human, puncturing him twice rapidly in the left bicep, once on the right wrist and once on the upper part of the back. The human seems to learn a lesson and rather than jogging out, he sprints to safety 40 yards away. The bee scores again. Tally: Bee scores knockout victory with four stings. Human leaves, choosing to move on.
The human should, can and does learn. That is one thing on his side. By failing and flailing, he learns (if he is to accept a mantle that he has a certain degree of intelligence). Do better next time. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. Try not to go insane. It’s a worthy goal.