Barnaby was a very small bumblebee, even for a bumblebee. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, and all the other bees were buzzing with excitement. They were collecting the most beautiful pollen – ruby red from the poppy fields, sunshine yellow from the dandelions, and lavender purple from the crocuses. They planned to make the most magnificent honey-sweet treats for their loved ones.
Barnaby, however, was worried. He wasn’t a very fast flier, and he hadn’t collected much pollen at all. His little pouch held only a tiny bit of pale pink pollen from the very last blooming winter rose. It wasn’t nearly enough for a proper Valentine’s treat for his Mama Bee, who always made him feel so special.
He watched as Beatrice Bee carefully arranged a swirl of red and yellow pollen into a heart shape for her Papa Bee. He saw Bartholomew Bee polishing a tiny dewdrop to make it sparkle like a gem for his sister. Barnaby sighed. He wanted to give Mama Bee something wonderful, but he didn’t *have* anything wonderful.
Old Man Fitzwilliam, the wisest bee in the hive, noticed Barnaby’s drooping antennae. He buzzed over and gently asked, “What troubles you, little one?”
Barnaby explained his problem, showing Old Man Fitzwilliam his small pouch of pink pollen. “It’s not enough,” he mumbled. “Everyone else has so much more, and I want to give Mama Bee the best Valentine’s gift.”
Old Man Fitzwilliam smiled kindly. “The best gifts, Barnaby, aren’t always the biggest or the brightest. They are the gifts given with the most love and thought. What does your Mama Bee love to do?”
Barnaby thought for a moment. “She loves to sing! She has the sweetest buzz-song in the whole hive, and she always sings to me when I’m feeling sad.”
“Then,” said Old Man Fitzwilliam, “perhaps your Valentine’s gift shouldn’t be something *made* of pollen, but something *from* your heart.”
Barnaby’s eyes lit up. He flew to the center of the hive and, taking a deep breath, began to sing. He wasn’t a very good singer, his buzz was a little wobbly, and he kept forgetting the tune. But he sang with all his might, pouring all his love for his Mama Bee into every note.
The other bees stopped their preparations and listened. Beatrice and Bartholomew smiled. Even Old Man Fitzwilliam tapped his foot to the rhythm. And Mama Bee? She flew to Barnaby and wrapped him in a warm hug.
“That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard,” she said, her voice full of love. “It’s the best Valentine’s gift a Mama Bee could ask for.”
Barnaby beamed. He realized Old Man Fitzwilliam was right. It didn’t matter how much pollen he had, or how fancy his gift was. What mattered was the love he put into it. He gave his Mama Bee his tiny pouch of pink pollen, and she tucked it safely into her own pouch, promising to use it to sweeten her next song.
That night, as Barnaby drifted off to sleep, he knew this Valentine’s Day was perfect. He learned that the smallest bee, with the biggest heart, could give the most wonderful gift of all.