In September 2023, my three-year-old daughter, Saylor, began experiencing difficulties with sleep, claiming there were monsters lurking in her closet and that she could hear a humming sound coming from the walls. Initially, we attributed her fears to her fondness for the movie Monsters, Inc., which features friendly monsters visiting children at night. To comfort her, we gave her a bottle of water, humorously referred to as “monster spray.”
However, her anxiety persisted, and by February, she was once again seeking refuge in our bedroom. Later that month, I noticed a large swarm of bees buzzing around the attic’s laundry vent. Being pregnant with our third child and feeling fatigued, I questioned my own perception of reality.
A beekeeper assessed the situation and reassured us that everything was under control. A second beekeeper echoed this sentiment.
It wasn’t until the arrival of a third beekeeper that the situation was clarified. He observed the bees entering the attic through a small opening near a window and inquired about the space beneath the attic floorboards, which happened to be Saylor’s bedroom. Utilizing a thermal camera to inspect the attic, he initially saw nothing unusual. However, when he turned the camera toward the wall in Saylor’s room, the display illuminated dramatically.
What we discovered was astonishing: a figure more than six feet tall resembling a man in a top hat. I was left in disbelief.
We learned that bees were infiltrating our attic through a tiny gap in a window, subsequently making their way through the floorboards and constructing a massive hive within the wall cavity.
The beekeeper proposed to open the wall using a hammer. While my husband assisted him, I stayed downstairs with Saylor and her brother, as I have a bee allergy.
I suddenly heard the beekeeper exclaim, “Oh my God, take cover.” My husband rushed out, describing it as a scene from a horror film with bees swarming uncontrollably. It was chaos.
The beekeeper employed a specialized vacuum device to safely remove the bees. In a single day, he extracted around 40,000 bees and over 100 pounds (45 kilograms) of honeycomb from our wall, a scale of infestation he had never encountered before.
The entire operation lasted several hours, with the captured bees producing a loud buzz. We showed Saylor the box containing the bees and inquired if that was the sound she had been hearing. She responded affirmatively, stating, “Yep, that’s the monsters,” as if to say, “I told you so.”
Interestingly, bees are most active between midnight and 4 a.m., while we were putting Saylor to bed at 7 p.m. We had been perplexed about how to alleviate her fears, completely unaware that thousands of bees were nesting in our wall.
When the beekeeper appeared in his protective suit, I was concerned it might frighten Saylor. I explained he was a beekeeper, but she enthusiastically declared, “No, that’s a monster hunter.” She looked forward to his visits, repeatedly asking, “You got more?”
After the incident, her room was left coated in honey—on books, blankets, and toys. The beekeeper explained that many bees would be out pollinating and would return at night, so he made a temporary opening in the wall, assuring us he would return in two weeks to check on the situation. He also warned us about “robber bees,” which come to consume the honey after the hive is removed.
Two weeks later, he removed another 20,000 bees, and two weeks after that, an additional 10,000. He finally managed to seal the wall hole in July. The repairs cost us $20,000 (£15,000), which necessitated taking out a loan since our insurance deemed the damage preventable, despite the beekeeper labeling it a “once-in-a-lifetime” situation.
Now that everything is restored, I occasionally worry that the bees might return. Post-repair, Saylor expressed a strong reluctance to go back to her old room, and I completely understand why. We have since converted it into a nursery for our son.
At times, I find myself feeling the walls in that room, ensuring there’s nothing hidden within. Fortunately, Saylor appears unbothered by bees now; she seems indifferent to their presence.
The beekeeper ultimately relocated the bees to his apiary, contributing to efforts aimed at increasing their endangered population. I believe it’s safe to say that we’ve played our part in that endeavor.
As shared by Isabelle Aron.
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