Footloose, NOS, The News International
Sweetly stung
Ending winters and onset of springs in some queer way arouses the honey-making instincts in honey bees in our hilly areas. So, beware of being swarmed by them if you happen to be in the jungles of Jhelum and Chakwal around spring time
By Syed Rizwan Mahboob
It was one of those typically bright mornings in late Aprils which used to be a peculiar feature of mountainous scrub jungles in Jhelum and Chakwal districts. A team of 30 odd under-training forest officers (including three females) were on a hill training trail in beautiful scrub jungles of the Pael Forest Range in the then Jhelum Forest Division.
The group of young foresters had entered the Nila Wann jungles by taking the katcha track which leaves the Kallar-Pael Road some 20 miles from (the then sleepy town) Kallar Kahar. These jungles covered a labyrinth of ridges, gradually rising in an eastern direction to ultimately culminate around Sardi village (highest altitude in the vicinity and carrying dilapidated relics of a British-era rest house where deputy commissioners of Jhelum would spend the summer months). Like all foresters’ errands, these foresters had started their plant identification sojourn early in the morning and were by that time fully exhausted and drenched in sweat.
The particular jungle that I am referring to carried a mixed crop of Phulai trees inter-mixed with granda bushes. Being late spring, jungles were in full bloom, filling the air with a balmy fragrance, further sweetened by melodies from a multitude of flitting birds. The early excitement amongst young foresters had given way to a weary tardiness as the group followed a grey-haired forest guard towards a large water pond.
It was at that time that the agitated voice of one of the lady foresters brought the marching foresters to a sudden halt.
She was agitated by an ominous looking honey bee which had suddenly started hovering around her face. Almost in a flux, the lady forester made some violent movements with her hands and soon the hornet was killed.
The whole incident must have taken less than a minute and the group had just resumed their march when from nowhere a great buzzing sound started breaking the silence of the jungle. In a few minutes, the group of foresters was surrounded by what turned out to be an unusually determined swarm of honey bees. It was almost as if the swarm of honey bees had in some mysterious way become aware of the death of their fellow bee and was bent upon taking revenge. It could be this reason or just the chance disturbance caused to the battalion of honey bees but the crescendo that ensued was reported to be the worst of its kind.
The swarming cloud of honey bees was bent upon seeking revenge and the ruthless manner in which almost all members of foresters’ team were stung was never heard of.
The forest guard accompanying the wretched group (now retired) narrated the ferocity of the attack to me as I met him a few years after the attack.
The poor foresters were running in all directions followed by swarms of honey bees as the forest guard continually shouted to guide them to the big water pond in close proximity. By the time, the stampeding crowd reached the water pond and literally jumped in its 2-3 feet deep muddy waters, many of the group had been mercilessly stung. It was almost after 30 minutes that the attack subsided and the swarm of honeybees gradually left for their unknown destination.
One of the targets, Mr Shah was the worst stung and had to be carried to a local hospital in Sohawa (Motorway was not constructed by that time), where he spent several painful days, before fully recovering from the terrible incident resulting in over 30 stings to his face, neck and head.
Gory as the incident on 23rd of that April may appear, it nevertheless recounts the deadly chore by one of the most disciplined creations that jungles have been blessed with. Ending winters and onset of springs in some queer way arouses the honey-making instincts in honey bees in our hilly areas. As spring casts its heady spell of heavenly torpor in the shape of millions of flowers and juicy shrubs, the honey bee swarms enter these jungles in search of nectar from trees and wild shrubs.
In case of sub-mountainous hills of Punjab, the most coveted (and now unfortunately fast dwindling) are the intoxicatingly scented flowers of wild Phulai and Beri with scented foliage of thorny Granda thrown in for a good measure. Swarms of these honey bees are out in a mad rush to drink from the choicest flowers and carry the nectars to artistically made honeybee combs. With increasing heat, the honey bee combs become laden with deliriously scented fluids, waiting to be plucked by willing hands.
While these honeybee combs can be found in a wide and diverse range of wildernesses, the best ones are to be found in the shady crevices of hills and rocks in Jhelum and Chakwal. Once these are completed to the satisfaction of colonies of honeybees, one cannot but wonder at the precarious angles where these are hung and the amazing quantities of honey that can be squeezed from these. Old forest guards are somehow misers at dislocating the locations of such treasure troves for obvious reasons but tasting this heavenly fluid is a treat that a few are blessed with.
As I visited the site of attack by honeybees in company of the old forest guard, we were able to locate as many as eight honeybee combs in that beautiful forest. The forest guard also provided a queer explanation for unprovoked attack on that April morning which he attributed to high quantities of sweat flowing on the faces of tired foresters. He was of the view that honeybees in late spring madly look for water and actually consume the honey with approaching summers, if untapped by humans.
Strange explanation but then one has to live with many strange phenomena in jungles.
Unfortunately, very few locations are left where natural honeybee combs can still be found. The best in terms of taste and fragrance are to be found in secluded scrub jungles of Samarkand (district Chakwal) and Lehri and Pabbi (Jhelum district). Both these locations still boast some of the finest combs made by what are generally called chota makho (small honeybees). The other category of natural honeybee combs can be found in irrigated forest plantations of Changa Manga and Chichawatni where large variety of honeybees make gigantic combs — literally impregnated with honey and waxes.
Now-a-days, it is not uncommon to come across endless spectacle of wooden boxes, purportedly containing pure honey along many roads in upper Punjab and KPK. I cannot help frowning at these so-called commercial honey-keepers for artificially introducing varieties of longish bees which regularly predate upon precarious populations of small bees — indigenous denizens of our hilly scrub forests. Anyone privileged to have tasted the heavenly diet of natural honey from a jungle-covered rock would hardly barter the so-called honey produced by these vendors.