As told by Queen Mirabella, proud mother of many, even the odd ones

Settle in, my little larvae. It’s time for a tale. Not of nectar or pollen, not of waggle dances or comb design, but of Derrick. Yes — that Derrick. The drone with dreams.

Now, you know what drones do, right? Eat. Buzz. Wait around to fly with a queen. And if lucky — well, you know what happens next. Not exactly the stuff of legends.

But Derrick… Derrick wasn’t like the other drones.

While his brothers napped in sunbeams and polished their antennae for potential “queen day,” Derrick studied flight patterns, observed guard bees, and even snuck into nursery chambers to help fan the brood with his wings.

“My destiny is bigger than my genetics,” he’d say, puffing his thorax proudly.

His brothers rolled their compound eyes. “Face it, Derrick — we’re here for one thing, and it’s over real quick.”

But Derrick kept dreaming.

He watched the foragers come and go and longed to see the sunrise from a lavender field. He memorized the way propolis glistened in the light. He even — I kid you not — tried to invent a tiny pollen basket for drones.

One day, just before Swarm Season, a terrible gust tore through the hive’s edge. A comb collapsed. Nurse bees were trapped.

And guess who was already airborne?

Derrick.

He dove, unafraid. With his wide body and powerful drone wings — built more for speed than agility — he barreled through the rubble. He lifted a broken wax wall. He carried two larval cradles to safety. And when a final tremor cracked the comb above me — he shielded his queen with his whole fuzzy body.

That day, Derrick wasn’t just a drone. He was a hero.

After the repairs, I called the hive together. “This drone,” I buzzed, “has taught us that roles are just wax walls waiting to be reshaped. Derrick dreamed, and he did more than dream — he flew.”

We retired his pollen-basket prototype and named it “The Derrick Dish.” We still use it to collect fallen royal jelly during harvest. His brothers? They started asking questions, helping, and even taking notes.

Derrick never did mate with a queen. But he changed how we saw ourselves — drones, workers, even me.

So remember, little ones: whether you’re meant to fly far, fan the brood, or build the perfect cell — dream a little bigger. Sometimes, the hive needs a drone who dares.

Now hush, the moon is up. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be the next bee with big dreams.