There is a story which, from time to time, floats about here
and there through the hanging mosses of the great Okefenokee Swamp. A story of
giant bees guarding a magic stump which produces the sweetest honey ever tasted
by man. It’s said to be a sweeter honey than that of the Biblical Promised Land
spied out by Joshua and Caleb so long ago.
The story goes that once in the days before the Great
Depression a swamper stumbled upon this stump on an unnamed island far out in
the interior of the great swamp. He was a simple man, used to life’s simple
pleasures and well acquainted with the joys of honey. Yet, when he tasted this
honey which seeped from the stump, he fell to his knees in shock. Soon,
however, he realized that he needed to gather as much as he could to take back
home to share with his wife and family. This he did quickly, forgetting all
else that day.
His wife, after tasting the pure sweetness of the honey,
urged him to quickly return to the depths of the swamp and bring as much honey
as he could. They hoped to begin selling it in nearby Waycross, Georgia, and
become wealthy.
*****************************************
The swamper returned to the island deep in the Okefenokee
with barrels, jars, and buckets and began gathering the honey. However, the
temptation to enjoy its delicious taste got the best of him. Soon, he was
propped against a tree with a full belly and a very serious need to sleep.
Early the following morning, he was awakened by the sound of
a heavy buzzing and drumming sound vibrating across the foggy dew soaked
Okefenokee. Rising, he witnessed a very scary sight! A swarm of bees was
crossing the nearby water-logged prairie coming directly at him! And these were
the largest bees he had ever seen! Almost man-sized!
With a youthful quickness he had not felt in many years, the
old swamper rushed to his dugout and pushed off to flee the approaching horde.
Barrels, jars, and buckets were forgotten. His only thought was to flee quickly
and he did. Looking back, he saw the large bees begin to circle the magic stump
and then they began to land here and there about the place.
The next day, the old swamper returned to the island in the
company of a good friend who was a bee keeper. The friend had assured him that
the bees could be dealt with safely. However, as they approached the island’s
location, they found it completely hidden within a thick cloud of fog. The fog
was so thick that not even the edges of the island were visible. Slowly, the
two friends gently pushed their dugout into the cloud of fog and soon bumped
into the land’s edge.
They searched here and there for what seemed hours but the
location of the magic stump was hidden by the fog and they could not find it.
Toward evening, they left the island. Since that day many others have sought
this magic stump. None have found it. The fog has never left the island not
even on the hottest July day. Some have spent days lost, wandering around the
island’s interior only to finally find their way to the water’s edge battered
and bruised. No one has ever again seen or tasted the sweetest honey ever
tasted by man.
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The old swampers say that on some of the foggiest of swamp
mornings, before the red winged blackbird begins to call and after the last of
the owls says goodnight, a vibrating humming drumming type of sound can be
heard echoing among the blackgums and cypress. But the sound usually is only
briefly heard then all goes quiet and the creatures of the swamp begin their good
morning choruses.
THE END
By Clint Bowman
Dec 2015
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