
The Beekeeper & the Bewitched Hare
IN THE MOOR REGION OF SCOTLAND, there was a young man who made a living by keeping bees. Although he lives alone in a cottage, he is not lonely, perhaps because he feels connected to his bees.
In the warm weather, when the blooming heather covered the moor, the bees buzzed with contented hums, sipping nectar wherever they liked, and he felt happy for them. In late fall, when wildflowers became scarce, their drone became more erratic, and he understood their anxiety. Sometimes, the boy complimented his bees on a massive batch of honey, and they seemed to buzz with joy and pride. People in the town said that the boy could talk to bees.
Of course, that couldn’t be true, but in some way, he felt they knew each other very well.
One evening, while the boy was checking his beehive, two hounds suddenly appeared from across the moor, barked fiercely, and rushed straight towards him.
The purpose of their chase quickly became apparent when a white rabbit jumped out of the heather into his arms. The boy soon stuffed the frightened animal into his coat.
Two hounds circled his feet, barking. He picked up a stick and swung it around. Finally, the dogs gave up and ran away. When the dogs disappeared, the boy put the rabbit back on the ground and went back to work. But instead of jumping into the bushes, the hare followed him, wagging its nose and looking at him intently.
He went inside his house, and the rabbit walked in behind him. “Now, you act like you want to be my pet,” he said. “It looks like you’re looking forward to dinner. I suppose I can get you a carrot.” He let the rabbit nibble on the carrot while he scooped some of the stew into a bowl for his dinner. When they were both finished, the rabbit jumped onto his lap, and he stroked its head and ears. “OH!” He said with surprise. “I’ve seen black or pink eyes on white rabbits, but how did you get those blue eyes?” The rabbit responds by stretching its back for more petting.
The following day, he led the rabbit to the beehive to introduce her to his bees. He knows that changes in their environment can make bees nervous, and he doesn’t want the presence of hares to worry them. So he brought the rabbit out for them to examine first and then placed her down near his feet. The bees swooped down and circled her face, but she didn’t seem to mind.
After they satisfied their curiosity and returned to the hive, he led the hare to the next pack to introduce him again.
One afternoon, a few weeks later, the young man noticed an older woman walking along the path across the moor. Thinking he could sell her a jar of premium honey, he met her at the gate. Before he could speak, however, she pointed to the hare peering out from behind the heather.
“It’s not every day you see that,” she said with a crooked smile. “A blue-eyed rabbit.”
“That’s right,” the young man said, turning to admire his pet.
“What do you want from her?” said the old woman.
“She is not for sale.”
“You certainly have a price, young man. Now look at this bonnie gold piece. It’s not every day you get a gold piece for a common rabbit, is it?”
“She is not ordinary and not for sale,” the beekeeper frowned.
Immediately, the older woman, whom the boy thought was too old to have such fun, rushed to grab her. A bee flying nearby let out a shrill sound. The sound surprised the older woman and seemed to warn the other bees. In a moment, a group of black people gathered and rushed to attack the older woman.
“Frog!” she cried, turned around and ran away. “You’ll regret not handing over the worthless rabbit when you could have!”
The next day, at the market, while selling honey, the beekeeper told the baker next to him what had happened.
“That woman is definitely a witch,” said the baker, arranging the bread, potato pies, and mince pies in neat rows. “Listen to me. You better be careful.”
“Yes,” agreed the sweater and skirt seller on the other side. “She’s a witch, there’s no doubt about it.”
But the boy thought: “Again, these two people often think people are witches. Maybe it was just a strange coincidence.”
However, as a precaution, that night, he blocked the window and locked the door. From then on, he kept a close eye on his rabbit.
Summer passed. By the time frost covers the ground in the morning, very few flowers and very few bees are still out in the cold. Most of the bees have retreated to the hive, where they begin the cold-weather work of keeping the pack warm enough for the queen to lay her eggs.
One chilly October morning, the boy was placing a tray of sugar water inside the hive when a caravan of Roma people rolled on their way south. He waved to the driver, and a young gypsy man waved back.
Only later did the boy notice a sack of grain lying on the road just past the gate.
“Oh, it must have fallen from the gypsy’s truck! They’ll only know it’s missing once they set up camp tonight. By then, it will be too dark to go back for it.”
So the young man lifted the sack into the car and drove away, following the tracks that the gypsy truck had dug underground. In about an hour, he caught up with them. He praised them. When they stopped, he gave the sack of grain to the young gypsy driver.
“You mean you followed us all this way to return a bag of grain?” The young gypsy man said. “Most people were glad we were gone and never saw us again.”
“Why shouldn’t I bring it back to you?” he says.
Of course, that couldn’t be true, but in some way, he felt they knew each other very well.
One evening, while the boy was checking his beehive, two hounds suddenly appeared from across the moor, barked fiercely, and rushed straight towards him.
The purpose of their chase quickly became apparent when a white rabbit jumped out of the heather into his arms. The boy soon stuffed the frightened animal into his coat.
Two hounds circled his feet, barking. He picked up a stick and swung it around. Finally, the dogs gave up and ran away. When the dogs disappeared, the boy put the rabbit back on the ground and went back to work. But instead of jumping into the bushes, the hare followed him, wagging its nose and looking at him intently.
He went inside his house, and the rabbit walked in behind him. “Now, you act like you want to be my pet,” he said. “It looks like you’re looking forward to dinner. I suppose I can get you a carrot.” He let the rabbit nibble on the carrot while he scooped some of the stew into a bowl for his dinner. When they were both finished, the rabbit jumped onto his lap, and he stroked its head and ears. “OH!” He said with surprise. “I’ve seen black or pink eyes on white rabbits, but how did you get those blue eyes?” The rabbit responds by stretching its back for more petting.
The following day, he led the rabbit to the beehive to introduce her to his bees. He knows that changes in their environment can make bees nervous, and he doesn’t want the presence of hares to worry them. So he brought the rabbit out for them to examine first and then placed her down near his feet. The bees swooped down and circled her face, but she didn’t seem to mind.
After they satisfied their curiosity and returned to the hive, he led the hare to the next pack to introduce him again.
One afternoon, a few weeks later, the young man noticed an older woman walking along the path across the moor. Thinking he could sell her a jar of premium honey, he met her at the gate. Before he could speak, however, she pointed to the hare peering out from behind the heather.
“It’s not every day you see that,” she said with a crooked smile. “A blue-eyed rabbit.”
“That’s right,” the young man said, turning to admire his pet.
“What do you want from her?” said the old woman.
“She is not for sale.”
“You certainly have a price, young man. Now look at this bonnie gold piece. It’s not every day you get a gold piece for a common rabbit, is it?”
“She is not ordinary and not for sale,” the beekeeper frowned.
Immediately, the older woman, whom the boy thought was too old to have such fun, rushed to grab her. A bee flying nearby let out a shrill sound. The sound surprised the older woman and seemed to warn the other bees. In a moment, a group of black people gathered and rushed to attack the older woman.
“Frog!” she cried, turned around and ran away. “You’ll regret not handing over the worthless rabbit when you could have!”
The next day, at the market, while selling honey, the beekeeper told the baker next to him what had happened.
“That woman is definitely a witch,” said the baker, arranging the bread, potato pies, and mince pies in neat rows. “Listen to me. You better be careful.”
“Yes,” agreed the sweater and skirt seller on the other side. “She’s a witch, there’s no doubt about it.”
But the boy thought: “Again, these two people often think people are witches. Maybe it was just a strange coincidence.”
However, as a precaution, that night, he blocked the window and locked the door. From then on, he kept a close eye on his rabbit.
Summer passed. By the time frost covers the ground in the morning, very few flowers and very few bees are still out in the cold. Most of the bees have retreated to the hive, where they begin the cold-weather work of keeping the pack warm enough for the queen to lay her eggs.
One chilly October morning, the boy was placing a tray of sugar water inside the hive when a caravan of Roma people rolled on their way south. He waved to the driver, and a young gypsy man waved back.
Only later did the boy notice a sack of grain lying on the road just past the gate.
“Oh, it must have fallen from the gypsy’s truck! They’ll never know it’s missing until they set up camp tonight. By then, it will be too dark to go back for it.”
So the young man lifted the sack into the car and drove away, following the tracks that the gypsy truck had dug underground. In about an hour, he caught up with them. He praised them. When they stopped, he gave the sack of grain to the young gypsy driver.
“You mean you followed us all this way to return a bag of grain?” The young gypsy man said. “Most people were glad we were gone and never saw us again.”
“Why shouldn’t I bring it back to you?” he says.
“Otherwise, I’ll have to think about your poor horses missing out on dinner tonight.”
Just then, the rabbit poked its head out of the beekeeper’s coat.
“And what is that?” said the gypsy boy. “Blue-eyed rabbit?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “She’s a special person, yes.”
“More than special, I would say,” said the gypsy. “Paternal grandmother!” he called into the car. “I want to show you something.”
An older woman with a bright headscarf, long pleated skirt, and puffy white shirt stepped out of the car.
“What do you think about that now?” said the gypsy man, nodding toward the rabbit.
“Oh my God!” she said.
“It’s just a rabbit,” said the beekeeper.
The older woman shook her head. “Nothing.”
“What else could she be?”
“It’s a girl,” she said. “An enchanted girl!”
The beekeeper gasped. Then he poured out his story. He told them both about the two dogs that chased the rabbit across his moors, about the strange older woman who tried to grab her, the bees that chased the witch away, and what his friends at the market had done. He was talking about the old lady.
“Your friends are right,” she said firmly, “That woman is a witch and must have been the one who bewitched the girl. One thing you can count on is that she will come back. She’s biding her time for that girl that she is.”
“What is she waiting for?”
“I suspect Halloween Night,” she said. “She knew that by then, the bees would return to their hives. But most importantly to her, it was the one day of the year when the witch’s magic was strongest.”
“What can I do?” he said, alarmed.
“Tell me, did you say you could talk to bees?”
“Not really talking…”
“Hmmm, no matter how you talk to them, you may need their help. When you get home, explain to the bees that the witch may return.
Before sunset on New Year’s Eve, tie a sturdy rope around the rabbit’s neck and shoulders and hold it in your lap until well past midnight.”
“Sounds good,” the young man said.
“Do you think this will be easy?” said the grandmother. “When she’s under the witch’s spell, she can pull and jump with a strength that will shock you, but you have to hold on to her. If the bees can help, so much the better.”
The older woman took a deep breath and looked at him with teary old eyes. “That’s all I can say. Other than that, whatever will be, will be.”
When the boy returned home, he carried the rabbit from one nest to another, repeating what the old gypsy woman had told him. On the one hand, he felt a bit silly explaining all this to a swarm of bees. However, through the collective sounds, they seemed to be mumbling understanding, like someone listening. And as the boy walked, he felt excitement rising from inside the hive.
On New Year’s Eve, the beekeeper tied a strong rope around the rabbit’s neck and shoulders and placed it in his lap. She remained content there until the darkness was so thick that he could only see the outline of her white fur.
Then suddenly, the rabbit shook so hard that it was almost impossible to hold it. She squirmed with such strength it was all he could do to keep her from slipping from his grasp. Just as she started to struggle free, he heard a buzzing sound that meant his bees were surrounding them. The bees came closer and denser, forming a high and deep encirclement. The rabbit twitched its ears and nose. She jumped into his arms and danced but stopped trying to escape.
The rabbit finally settled down again. And then – it’s magic! In his heart is no longer a white rabbit with blue eyes but a blue-eyed girl, Bonnie!
He quickly removed the rope around her neck. They laugh at the magic of it. They don’t know what to think! But when dawn came, the bees had returned to their nests, the geese flew over the wild fields, and the boy and his daughter were in the cottage, discussing marriage plans.