thephotosocietyのインスタグラム(thephotosociety) - 1月29日 02時19分

Photo by @renan_ozturk // Words by @ナショナルジオグラフィック #TheLastHoneyHunter story writer @m_synnott “I’m getting stung and I’m missing the shot,” says Renan. “Try to spin me back towards the wall.” I reach out my leg and give Renan a kick. As my foot pushes off his shoulder, he starts rotating back towards the wall, while I spin in the opposite direction. Soon I’m gazing out over the valley and through the branches of a tree that hangs off the lip of this 300-foot overhanging honey cliff. The spin continues, and a few seconds later I’m face to face again with Renan, who is writhing in frustration on the end of his rope like a fly caught in a spider’s web. ~
The endless rotations continue. Over Renan’s shoulder I can see Maule Dhan #thelasthoneyhunter clinging to his homemade ladder with one hand while he scrapes dark clumps of bees off a nearby hive with a 20-foot bamboo pole. Each swipe at the hive triggers an explosion of angry bees that fill the air around us. My gloves are covered with dozens of bees, many of which have their stingers buried in the nylon. Like a barbed hook, a stinger won’t come out once it has been set. This has fatal consequences for the bees. When they try to fly away, the stinger slowly disembowels them, pulling a ropy orange tendril out of their abdomen. ~
Renan and I are wearing bee suits, so our stings are minimal. Maule isn’t so fortunate. Back in camp, the honey hunters gather around him and pick the stingers one by one out of his swollen face and hands. “The bees have thousands of babies in those hives,” says Maule. “The bees are smart. So it makes sense that they would come after us.”

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