Travel hopefully in life.

Other newly discovered species have been long extinct—take the Kem Kem Abelisaur, the fossilized bones of which were believed to be those of a juvenile Tyrannosaurus rex until earlier this year—or are teetering on the brink of extinction themselves, like the Brazilian Dinizia jueirana-facao tree, which can grow as tall as a 12-story building and weigh up to 62 tons. Despite its imposing size, this massive 2017 addition to the legume family escaped the notice of the scientific community for many years because there are only 25 of them left in existence.

The insect world in particular is considered to be fertile ground for new species to be identified. As is true in many instances, the smaller things are, the easier they are to overlook. And sometimes, even after those small things have initially been discovered, they get stuck in a drawer and forgotten for a few decades before someone with the time and inclination to properly classify them comes along.

Such it was with this week’s terrific tunneling species: the pueblo bee.

Summary

Between the altercation with Rob Og and seeking out Mr. Rankeillor at the Bam & Anchor, Davie and Alan take a room at the Hawes Inn.

It's a damp, dreary morning in the Scottish Borders when the Balfours set off for Edinburgh, a looming bank of thunderheads spitting the misty drizzle that so often precedes a proper storm.

The deluge breaks behind them as they go, like a curtain dropping on their old life. David Balfour isn't the superstitious type, but it's difficult not to see ill tidings in it.

Bad enough that he has to leave home at all, but to do so under such an inauspicious sign seems like the universe is adding insult to injury. A bolt of lightning splits the sky at their back and a faint rumble of thunder rolls out to bid them farewell. Davie's dog Campbell, a wiry-haired mutt of slightly larger than middling size, growls in reply, though he doesn't bother to so much as raise his head from where he's sprawled across the backseat, the great lazy beast.

It's only an hour or so to Edinburgh along the A68, but time seems to pass like treacle, stretching by them thick and slow.

It isn't until they're twenty minutes or so into the trip, tooling along under the cloud-streaked sky, that Davie's mother, Helen, finally interrupts the quiet that's blanketing them like a shroud. She leans forward and turns the radio on, flipping through station after station. She keeps flicking glances at Davie out of the corner of her eye as she goes, no doubt hoping that he'll express some little interest in one of them.

Not bloody likely.

Davie hasn't said a word more than the occasional affirmative or negative since they finished loading up the last of their boxes into the trailer before they left the Borders, and he doesn't intend to start now.

" - Conservative leadership re-elected for a third consecutive term - "

"No," Helen says, wrinkling her nose as she turns the dial.

Bzzzt.

" - over your shoulder, I'm walking - "

She hums in disapproval and twists again.

Bzzzt.

" - every time I look at you, falling stars come into view."

"Oh!" Helen perks up. "I love this one! It's from my time." She winks at Davie and starts swaying back and forth in her seat, crooning along with Michael Holliday and his sugar-voiced backup chorus. "Yes, that's just why you're so starry-eyed. That's just why you're so starry-eyed. When we touch I hear angels sing!"

She reaches over and squeezes Davie's arm. He shoots her a black look over his shoulder and shrugs her off, settling his chin into his hand and leaning so his temple touches the window.

Helen deflates with a sigh, straightening up and settling her hand back on the wheel. She stares out the windscreen while Michael Holliday continues warbling about how all his dreams are coming true. After a few seconds, she presses her mouth into a flat line and reaches out to stab at the button on the dash.

The car descends back into silence, only the rush of the wind through the cracked windows and Campbell snoring in the backseat serving to score the scene.

Pallid bees emerge from hibernation in the spring, usually late April or May, and live for about a month on the surface, growing scarce and difficult to find come July. They’re a fairly common bee, considered Least Concern in terms of conservation, and tend to be more active at night when temperatures drop. Not at all surprising, considering that pallid bees live within a few degrees of death, boasting an average internal body temperature of 119 degrees Fahrenheit where 125 would prove fatal.

Newly hatched male pallid bees tunnel their way to the surface first, whereupon they begin searching the previous years’ nesting ground for mates. Partners are much prized in the pallid bee community. A female pallid bee will mate with only one partner before she’s finished for the season. As such, C. pallida’s mating dance is usually more of a fistfight, with male pallid bees scrapping viciously over potential mates and racing each other to every fresh prospect that appears.