//------------------------------//
// Day 3 - Sweet Apple Acres (Part 2) 
// Story: Thorax's Visit to Ponyville 
// by origami 
//------------------------------//

Our trek through the orchard brought us to a place where there was a somewhat subtle divide between where the work of pruning had been completed and where it still needed to be done.  Some of the trees had an abundance of blossoms, while others had been pruned back to what looked to be about half as many.  Judging by what I could see, the work looked to be nearly complete, and our pruning efforts would be completed sometime by mid-morning, if we got started right away.

"Alrighty," Applejack said as she grabbed some shears, "I'm gonna give ya a crash course on how to prune these here apple trees.  We're gonna start down here at the bottom and work our way up; that's where them ladders are gonna come into play."

She gestured to some wooden ladders leaned against one of the trees.  They looked well used, but not in any state of disrepair.

The orange mare continued her explanation.  "What ya wanna do is make space between the blossoms so that the nutrients from the soil get distributed evenly among the fruits once the trees get pollinated.  If they're bunched too close together, then the fruit won't get big enough, but don't go whole hog and just cut a whole bunch back; we won't get enough fruit that way."

"A good rule for prunin' blossoms is to leave about two hooves of space between 'em.  That's enough for spacin' for 'em to grow right once they start makin' fruit.  Ya start by pick out a blossom and clippin' some of the others from around it.  Take yer time and make sure ya don't clip too much.  There ain't much work left to do, but I wanna make sure we all do it right.  Watch what I do here."

Applejack approached a tree full of blossoms and picked one bunch towards the end of a branch.  Giving it a look over, she then took the shears and started pruning some of the flowers away from that particular bunch.  After a minute, she stepped back to examine her work, then turned back to us.

"That's how ya do it.  Now, take a good look at what I done and see if ya can't do somethin' similar."

I stepped up to see what she had done.  There was a space around the blossoms that, according to my measurements, was about a hoof and a half wide.  Keeping the measurement in mind, I turn and gave a nod to Applejack.

The orange pony returned the nod, then passed me a pair of shears to start pruning.  I pick a different bunch of blossoms and carefully trim around them, taking my time to make sure I don't leave too much of a gap.  Once I'm satisfied, I move on to another bunch and carefully trim around those.  After about fifteen minutes, I have most of the lower portion of the tree trimmed back to something that, to me, looks acceptable.

"Right fine job there, Thorax," Applejack gave her approval.  "Now we'll set up a ladder and get the top part of the tree done."

The earth pony went over and hooked a ladder with her head and neck, using a front hoof to balance it as she made her way over to me.  I offered a hoof and helped her get the ladder in place.

"Normally I'd give ya warnin' to watch how ya move at the top, but since ya got wings, ya can just float back down if ya fall off.  Just make sure to keep that consistent gap ya got goin' with the blossoms.  Once ya get this tree done, we'll move on to another."

I gave her a nod and carefully made my way up the ladder, keeping a firm grip on the shears with my mouth.  Once I'm at the top, I resume clipping away at blossoms, picking bunches and clipping around them carefully to make a reasonable amount of space.  After a few minutes, I need to move the ladder, which Applejack is more than happy to help me with, and I continue with the chore.  After a half-hour or so, I've finished the pruning on this tree.

Big Macintosh comes over and helps me move the ladder to another tree, where I finish up with that one.  It takes me a half-hour to finish that tree, and Applejack comes over to help me move to the next one.  I keep a pretty decent pace, but I notice I am a little slower than the two ponies, each of them getting a tree done in twenty minutes.  Nonetheless, they don't complain about my pace, as I'm not that much slower than the two, and we're getting done at a decent pace.

Our work goes on for another two hours before we finish the last tree.  Applejack and Big Macintosh take a moment to sip some water, while I simply sit underneath one of the trees.  The orange pony invites me over for some water, but I politely decline, not feeling particularly parched.

Of course, the pony won't have it.

"Ya gotta keep hydrated while we do work out here.  Even if ya don't feel all that thirsty, ya gotta keep water in ya so ya don't wear yourself down and get wore out too soon."

I concede and take a few sips of the water, which I have to admit is quite refreshing.

After passing the ladle that we had been using as a cup back to the mare, Applejack turned to her brother and gave him a nod, then looked back to me.

"We're gonna head back to the barn and get the hive boxes now.  Ya might wanna stand back a bit when we get 'em out.  Sometimes the bees ain't so keen on us movin' their hives and get a bit onery.  Me and Mac got special boots and veils we wear to help protect us from the worst of the stingin', and I don't know how your hide'll hold up to gettin' swarmed by them things."

"How does covering your legs protect you from most of the stinging?"

"I can't speak for other ponies, but my brother an' I can deal with getting poked in our ribs a bit better than our fetlocks or knees."

"I think I should be okay, mostly.  My chitin is pretty resilient to damage."

"Well, yer eyes are still a good bit like a pony's, even if they don't quite look the same, so I'd still be careful if I was yah."

I gave her a nod in agreement; always better to be safe than sorry.

Big Mac hooked himself into the cart and we all headed back towards the house and barn.  I could see Vigilant and Granny Smith sitting on the front porch observing us as we came back for the hive boxes.  Vigilant said something to Granny, who gave him a nod, and the stallion went into the house, observing us from a window a moment later.

Once we got closer to the barn, Big Mac pulled the wagon around to the back, where I could hear a faint buzzing noise that got louder as we neared the rear.  Once we turned the corner, I observed four stacks of wooden boxes that were painted white.  Going to and from those boxes were hundreds of bees, the yellow and black insects hard at work to convert nectar from flowers into honey that would feed their hive, and presumably whichever ponies were brave enough to tend to them.

Big Mac walked past the hives and to a small wooden shed nearby.  Opening the door, he retrieved a few items: three hats with netting going all the way around, three pairs of thick rubber boots, an old burlap sack, and a smoker.

"Don't ferget the matches," Applejack reminded her brother, who rolled his eyes as he retrieved a box of matches from inside the shed.  Settting the smoker down, he removed the lid and proceeded to tear a section off of the burlap, stuffing it down into the smoker.  Once satisfied, he lit a match and placed it into the smoker, where the burlap caught aflame and began making smoke.  Replacing the lid, he gave the smoker a few pumps, which sent a few puffs of white smoke out of the nozzle.

"We're gonna give the hives a few puffs of that smoke," Applejack explained to me.  "The hemp in the burlap calms 'em down so they ain't as apt to wanna turn us inta pin cushions."

Big Mac walked up to each hive and placed the nozzle of the smoker at the thin entrance where the bees were going in, giving a few pumps to send some smoke into the hive.  Once he was finished, he placed the smoker on the wagon and stood off to the side.

Applejack walked over to the hives and placed a pair of boots on her hooves.  "Go ahead and grab a pair of boots and a veil," she told me.  "We're gonna carefully pick these hives up and put 'em on the cart.  Once we get 'em loaded, we're gonna move through the orchard and drop a hive next to the rock piles we set up as markers.  Puttin' a hive by each one ensures our whole orchard gets pollenated right."

I gave the mare a nod as I slid into a pair of boots, finding them to be a little loose, but not something a slight shapeshift couldn't fix.  Placing the veil over my head, I cinch the bottom tight to my neck so that the bees can't crawl underneath it and get at my face.  Once ready, I watch Applejack as she grabs a hive box near the bottom and lifts it up, carefully walking it over to the cart and placing it on the back.

Just as she moves away, the mare yips and utters what sounds like a swear under her breath.

"Mac, I got one in under mah right front leg."

The stallion nodded at her instructions and grabbed a metal tool from the shed.  Applejack lifted her leg and allowed him to examine the area, eventually moving the tool against her skin, examining it once he'd finished.

"Got it," he told her proudly.

"Thanks," she answered back, wincing a bit as she moved her leg.  "Dang varmints seem to always get me when I least expect it."

Big Mac set the metal tool down, and my curiosity led to me walking over and looking at it.  I quickly deduced it was a plaster knife, repurposed for dealing with the bees.  Looking closer, I could see what looked like a little piece of mucus on one egde, but it's constant pulsing told me it was the dislodged stinger continuing to pump out venom.

"C'mon, Thorax," Applejack called out to me.  "Can't stop just 'cause I got stung."

I nod and move to pick up a hive box.  Carefully, I take it to the cart and set it on the back.  Big Mac grabbed one and slid it on after me, and Applejack loading the last one.

"Don't take yer veil or boots off yet," the mare instructed me.  "We're gonna go drop these off in the orchard now, and we gotta be careful settin' 'em inta place.  The smoke from the burlap will have worn off, and they might be in a stickin' kind of mood, if ya get mah meanin'."

I nodded my understanding and followed behind Big Mac, who hitched himself back up to the cart and began leading us back to the orchard.

"Your brother seems awfully confident doing this," I commented to Applejack.

"Yeah," she agreed.  "That colt has some kind of way with these here bees.  Ain't once been stung by 'em his whole life."

"Really?"

"Mhm.  He seems ta know just how ta handle 'em right so they don't get ornery with him."

"That's good, I suppose.  Too bad one of them stuck you back there."

"Like I said before, the beekeeper ponies say ya should get stuck every now and again.  Body gets used ta the venom that way.  Guess I got my first dose fer the year."

I nodded as we approached our first stop, a small pile of rocks set between two rows of apple trees, with a small rock painted red resting on top.  Big Mac stopped beside it and unhitched himself, Applejack approaching the back and ushering me to join her.

"We're gonna take a side and, bein' real careful, lower it down over the pile of rocks.  It'll fit over top of 'em just fine."

"Okay," I say as I carefully grip one side of the hive while Applejack takes the other.  Working together, we raise it up and off of the cart and begin moving it over the pile of rocks.

"Consarnit!" Applejack seethed as we moved.  "Another one of 'em stuck me."

"Should we set it down and-"

Applejack cut me off before I could finish.  "Get the hive over the rocks.  Then we'll worry about gettin' the stinger outta me."

"Okay," I replied as I kept moving back, watching as I moved over the pile of rocks.  Once in place, both Applejack and I lower the hive over the pile of rocks.

Big Mac walked over with the plaster knife in his mouth.  "Where'd it get ya?" he asked his sister.

"Base of mah neck on my right side," she told him, and the stallion moved over to that side, lifting her mane out of the way and examining where she told him.  Once he saw it, he brushed the knife over that spot a few times until he dislodged the stinger.

"Mhnn!" Applejack hummed after the stinger was removed.  "Gonna have to put some ointment on that once we're done."

"Does it hurt?"

Applejack deadpanned at me.  "Sugarcube, imagine somepony making the tip of a butter knife hot and holdin' it against ya.  Not burn yer hide off, but hotter than ya can reasonably stand."

I kind of got the picture.  "Okay.  That was a dumb question."

"I'm used to it from doin' this for so many years," she continued.  "Ain't comfortable havin' it happen, but I get plenty a sore muscles during harvest time, so I'm used ta a little bit a sore."

"Let's get movin'," Big Mac interrupted.  "Gotta get these out before lunchtime."

"We're comin'," Applejack answered, ushering me to follow.

We didn't say anything as we approached the next spot.  Once there, Applejack and I got the next hive off and in place, this time managing to avoid the orange pony being stung by a member of the hive.  The next stop resulted in the mare getting a jab in the left side of her neck, followed by one in the flanks.  I happened to watch a third time happen on her back, watching the little bee wind up and jam its abdomen into her back, earning an angry grunt from the mare.

"Dagnabit!" she exclaimed.  "Got another one, Mac!"

The red stallion huffed as he removed that stinger.  Once it was out, he spat the knife on the cart and turned to his sister.

"Might wanna wash off down at the pond," he suggested to her.  "Them pheremones are gonna get the rest of 'em riled up."

"We'll be fine.  Let's get the last box out and head back ta the house.  I wanna get washed off and put some ointment on these stings."

Big Mac sighed.  "Alright.  C'mon Thorax."

I followed behind the two ponies to the last spot, sympathizing with Big Mac and having to deal with his stubborn sibling; it reminded me of my relationship with Pharynx in a way.

We got the last hive off the cart and in place, with Applejack getting two jabs in her left side as a consequence.  Mac was quick with the knife, dislodging the stingers and hitching back up to the cart.

"Finally done," Applejack sighed as she rubbed gingerly at the site of her most recent stings.  "'Bout a half dozen or so jabs.  That's better than last year."

"Could've been worse," I respond.  "Could've dropped a hive and got swarmed."

"Oh, don't even talk any nonsense like that," she warned me.  "Iffin that happened, I doubt any one of us could run fast enough to escape the hive's ire."

"Yeah, that wouldn't end well for any of us."

"No siree."

Big Mac coughed to get our attention, gesturing in the direction of the house and barn.  Both Applejack and I gave a nod, falling into step behind him, commenting on different things we observed as we walked.  Once we got back to the barn, Applejack opened the door and let Big Mac walk inside.

"Thanks a bunch fer helpin' us out today," the orange pony said to me.

"It's not a problem.  I was glad to learn about some of the stuff you have to do to get the trees ready for growing apples."

"Aw, shucks, this ain't even the half of it.  Gotta keep up with weeds during the summer, sprayin' repellents ta keep the bugs from chewin' holes in the fruit, and usin' that good ol' earth pony magic ta get these apples big an' ripe fer harvest time, then there's gatherin' up all the leaves and compostin' 'em so we got plenty a nutrient-rich material for the trees to get nourished from-"

"OW!"

Both of us look inside the barn to see Big Mac come limpin' out and shaking his hoof.

"Get the knife!" he said in a panic.  "One of 'em finally got me in the hoof!"

Applejack grabbed the plaster knife and told Big Mac to turn his hoof over.  Doing so, we saw the remains of a honey bee, and a pulsing stinger that created a red bump on the stallion's frog.  Quickly, Applejack scraped the knife against his hoof, dislodging the stinger and preventing it from further envenoming her brother.

"Well, guess the streak of not gettin' stung is finally over, huh Mac?" the mare teased her brother.

...

Big Mac didn't say anything.  Instead, he began to wheeze like he was out of breath.

"Uh, Mac?"

"Is that spot supposed to be that big?" I pointed out, the red spot on his frog getting rather large compared to the places where Applejack had been stung.

"C-Can't-HUH!-B-Br-Breathe!" the stallion forced out, continuing to have trouble getting air.

"Whoa nelly!" Applejack responded, a note of panic beginning to set in to both her voice and emotions.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, panic starting to enter into my emotions as well.

"STAND CLEAR!" a familiar voice cried out.

Applejack and I both turn to see Vigilant running straight at us, and in his mouth was a syringe with some kind of liquid inside it.  The stallion ran straight to Big Mac and smacks his head against the stallion, jabbing the needle into his flanks, then smacking his hoof against the plunger to drive whatever the medicine inside it into the stallion.

For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen, but then, Big Mac started to breath easier, beginning to calm down a little.  There was still a wheezing sound in his voice, however.

"Let's get him on that cart, now," Vigilant told us.  "He needs to get to the hospital."

"What was that?" Applejack asked, a bit bewildered by the stallion's quick actions.

"Epinephrine," he replied.  "Your brother most likely has an undiagnosed allergy to bee venom."

"Now how in the hay does that happen?  Ain't nopony in our whole family got an allergy to gettin' stuck by bees!"

"It happens sometimes.  Ponies just develop an allergy.  Has he ever been stung before?"

Applejack looked a bit sheepish.  "...Well, no."

"Most ponies never realize they're allergic until they actually get stung the first time," Vigilant pointed out, "but that doesn't matter.  Right now, we gotta get him to the hospital.  That shot'll help him, but he needs to be seen by a doctor as soon as possible."

"He's right," I agreed.  "We need to get your brother there as quick as we can."

Applejack looked at her brother, then back to Vigilant and I with a nod.  "I'm pullin' the cart.  You two follow behind me!"





We ended up spending the next few hours at the hospital as Big Mac was examined.  The red stallion did indeed have a severe allergy to being stung by bees, and had been sent home by a pony named Nurse Redheart with information about his newly discovered affliction.

In short, he was to make his best effort to avoid situations where bees could be present, so as to reduce his chances of being stung again.  As for the beekeeping, he was advised to wear a full body anti-sting suit when doing the work with the hive boxes.  

In addition to those bits of advice, Big Mac was also sent home with a syringe and several disposable needles, as well as a special container to dispose of the needles in.  The syringe would be used for his new emergency doses of epinephrine, a medicine that would help counteract the immediate effects of an allergic reaction, and give him enough time to seek out medical help from the hospital or nearest doctor, whichever was appropriate for the situation.  The last thing he received was an insulated satchel to wear around his neck and keep his emergency shot in, so it would be available to be administered quickly.

Strangely, I noticed that it looked remarkably similar to a piece of luggage that Vigilant kept with him at all times, so I asked the stallion about it after we had left the farm.

"I actually am allergic," he confessed to me.  "It's pretty much why I have my apiphobia."

I can't say I blame him for that; I wouldn't be too keen on hanging around a creature that could potentially kill me if I was bit or stung by it.

"Well, it's a good thing that you were there and had a shot of that stuff.  Big Mac might not have made it to the hospital if you hadn't been there to give him that shot."

"He might have made it, but with how his sister reacted, there was a chance he wouldn't.  I'm just glad I could think quick on my hooves."

"I'm sure Applejack is in your debt for what you did for her brother."

Realizing what I said, I crack a smile at the stallion.  "In fact, I bet there's a warm apple pie in your future."

Vigilant looked at me, but all I could notice in that moment was the little bit of drool coming out of his muzzle.  Clearly, he was hoping for such a reward as well.