Dad always liked birds. He had an elaborate purple martin house built and put it high up on a tall pole. We eagerly watch for the birds to come sharing his anticipation of their arrival. For several years we watched and hoped for purple martins, but, except for barn starlings and bees nothing ever made a nest in that multifamily bird house.
One summer a colony of bees used the house to build a huge nest. We saw hundreds of bees swarming in and out of the house. During that long, hot and often boring farm summer my daring older sister realized if she pushed and tugged on the pole holding the avian mansion the bees would swarm out. Standing below, and then running from that huge black cloud of bees was exciting in a way only at preteen girl could appreciate. Her younger sisters would scream in terror and run for the house. Millie would laugh, run a short distance and repeat the procedure. After several days of this excitement the bees finally identified their tormentor. It looked as if the whole swarm was chasing her. She ran screaming for the house she was unable to outrun the bees. She was severely stung on the face and body. Even this wimpy younger sister felt sorry for her.