From the Book, Bad Beekeeping, by Ron Miksha

Springtime Val Marie Bees

I was back from Florida. Winter had passed on the Canadian prairie. Peacefully, it seemed to me, the bees had slept through the harsh winter. This illusion was shattered when I inspected one of my over-wintered apiaries. I began to respect the season I had missed. The vicious winds had shredded some of the hives' wrapping materials. Skunks had scratched big holes in the grass in front of the hives. There were dried bits of honeybee body parts - carcasses spit from the mouths of the marauding skunks which had sucked the organs and blood from my bees, discarded their wasted bodies on the grass.