Agave paced back and forth, hoping a different viewing angle on his dilemma would provide a solution."Now," he murmured to himself, "Is that a wasp nest, or a bee hive?" It was too high up in the tree for the acha to clearly see if the hexagons were wax or paper, and if the black-and-yellow insects buzzing here and there were soft and sweet and fuzzy, or sleek and barbed stingers.
If he could just--somehow--climb a bit higher, or find something to (carefully!) knock it down with, Agave was set! The white-socked buck picked his way through the brush, hoping to find a good limb that was long enough--not just to knock the hive down, but to keep well enough away when the inevitable angry swarm resulted.
