Wariness and Wildflowers

I have made a terrible mistake.

My little girl — she’s four — does not really like cartoons. We do not watch much television, but when we do, it tends to be a nature documentary. Normally our go-to is something about predatory birds with titles like Surviving the Wild North, the kinds of things narrated by David Attenborough where you’re not sure if you should be cheering on the predator or the prey. Oh who am I kidding? She always cheers on the predator.

We took a brief hiatus from the peregrine falcons, ospreys, and snowy owls to watch a documentary about honey bees since we have hives of our own.

The documentary featured a segment on the death’s-head hawkmoth. If you are unfamiliar with them, they can be found in the British Isles and have the uncanny ability to mimic a bee’s scent so the bees do not recognize the intruder in their hive. This allows them to access the hive unnoticed despite their massive size and raid the honey cells without challenge.

The feature was interesting; we do not have this moth here in North America and learning about the challenges of bee keepers “across the pond” was worthwhile. I did not think about it again until the next day when my daughter and I sat in the bee yard together to watch our two hives — Boudica and Beatrice. A small white carpet moth (a very common sight this time of year) landed on the entrance board to one of our hives and my daughter gasped “That moth is going to steal the honey!”

Easy enough to laugh and brush away the comment, but she knew about the death’s-head hawkmoth now and assumed all moths were honey thieves. I smiled and explained to her that our moths did not steal honey and those bad moths were on an island far away from here.

She was unconvinced. Now my daughter sees one and asks “Is that moth going to steal the honey?” Where once there was joy and wonder now there is suspicion, wariness, reservation.

This made me wonder what other benign and benevolent natural wonders we inadvertently encourage our children to distrust.

“Be careful, bees can sting you.”

“That dog might bite.”

“You don’t know what’s in that water.”

“Tall grass? I don’t know…there could be ticks…”

To be sure, we need be a little wary of the world. It is a wounded place where dangers lurk. We may go overboard though with safteyism, with inviting suspicion to creep into the minds of our children.

They are forgiving though, those children; for every suspicion we may accidentally teach them with our own adult anxieties, they guide us to a new wonder.

As we were walking back from the bee yard, I pointed out the wildflowers growing by our driveway. Black-eyed Susan, phlox, daisies, and something else…