Some surprises just pop up of the blue. Like this caerulean woodcutter that spun hopeless circles at a bus stop between the biology labs and the campus field. The bee was clearly near the end of its tether, so I caught and stuffed it down something handy while fancy dresses frowned and took pains to pretend that everything was in the right place.
The bee survived a day and a half before expiring. It was markedly discomfited by flat surfaces, buzzing about in futile sweeps when placed on a piece of paper. Only when I let it grip a spare finger did the creature calm down as it clung to a skintight security blanket and nibbled weakly on fatty tissue with mandibles that could chew through poles. A long time ago, this azure beauty loomed a little larger in the public imagination as it floated through local forests and stamped its image on definitive issues. Today's thinner woods offer far less room for manœuvre and only a fading chance to find, much less feel, the bright, bunsen fur of carpenter blue.