King of the Bees (IMS Sidequest)

Episode 86: King of the Bees (IMS Sidequest)
Why bees serve no king
Oct 21, 2025
https://www.shannonheatonmusic.com/episode-86-king-of-the-bees-ims-sidequest

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I’m Shannon Heaton, flute player and host of Irish Music Stories, the show about traditional music. And the bigger stories behind it.

[ Music: “G Chimes,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt Heaton ]

And this is an IMS Sidequest in which I map music from my Perfect Maze album and share fragments from a few stories that helped me navigate the whole project.

[ Music: “Flute Duel, movement 1,” from Perfect Maze

Composer: Shannon Hetaon

Artists: Shannon Heaton & Friends ]

So I’d been writing music for flutes, and piano, and strings, and voice. It didn’t really fit with my usual Irish music stuff, so I was a little unclear about what I was gonna do with it in the first place. Then when the project got interrupted by Covid, and I set the partially finished recordings and scores aside for a few years.

By the time I came back to it, it all felt pretty murky. The music—and just everything. All the civil discourse surrounding social and political trends in the U.S. Our media outlets were shrinking, and our AI-soaked conspiracies were ballooning. One of my coping mechanisms was to do some creative writing about monarch butterflies and monarchies; I wrote about Aristotle and Greek tragedies and modern ones; old world paint techniques and primate research facilities; Argentine tango and butterfly migration; and royal roses and humble lotus flowers.

It was the stories that helped me gain even more appreciation for the pollinators. And it was the stories that led me back to the music, inspired by the butterflies and bees.

[ Music: “Flute Duel, movement 2,” from Perfect Maze

Composer: Shannon Hetaon

Artists: Shannon Heaton & Friends ]

The way they move around; their sounds and brilliant, wild colors; and the way they organize their colonies and work together to survive. For bees, the central goal is the survival of the entire colony. And the queen is the heart of the hive, as long as she is effective. Bees put everything on the line for their leader—not to prop HER up as a figurehead leader with special perks. It’s about risking their lives in order to keep the collective safe. It’s an ensemble thing.

[Music swells]

Ensemble music — whether it’s a trio for two flutes and piano, or a choral symphony with 100 or more musicians — is also collaborative. It’s meant to be played together (ensemble). So players must communicate, and coordinate, and adapt, and tune in.

In my piece Flute Duel, both Irish and silver flute work together and take turns through all three movements. There’s conversation with the piano throughout. It’s a team effort. And it’s also a celebration of individual voices: a ‘trad’ wood flute approach (mid register approach) alongside a higher, more sweeping, lyrical classical part.

As the name suggests, ‘Flute Duel’ is all in good fun. Hopefully no animosity, no resentment, no smoke and mirrors. Hopefully just some animated dialog between two flute players, and a well balanced pianist. Different people, different approaches, working together to get through three movements of a piece of music.

Of course, coordinating with just three players is a lot less involved than steering an entire colony.

[ Music: “Meaning of Life,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt & Shannon Heaton ]

In the beehive, if a queen’s egg laying rates fall, or if she starts moving slowly, or if she is not leading well, her village is hardwired to sting and suffocate her. Bees wouldn’t enable an ineffective queen. That would be like crowning a king hell bent on destruction, with no plans to rebuild. It would be like serving a monarch who has no interest in serving his people.

Like the Anderson fairy tale about the emperor with no clothes. He finally realizes, and maybe admits to himself that he’s truly naked. But instead of calling it out; instead of admitting it publicly, he thought, “the procession must go on now. So he held himself stiffer than ever, and the chamberlains held up his invisible train.”

[ Music: “Celtic Grooves,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt & Shannon Heaton ]

It’s embarrassing to admit mistakes.  And once you’ve thrown your lot in with one hero, it might feel embarrassing, or unthinkable, or unbearable to consider that your guy might not be looking out for you. He might care more about his own finery and comfort and exalted image than his subjects.

Well, there is very little ensemble energy—and very little amusement, actually—in a monarchy, even with a silly naked king. Or in an oligarchy, or autocracy. Those systems favor a few and stress the rest. Those are NOT balanced ensembles.

When U.S. voters chose to install a leader hell bent on dismantling public education, and dedicated to deporting people in my community who work so hard to give their kids opportunities they couldn’t have in their original countries of El Salvador, Haiti, and Brazil, I wrote this little ditty called King of the Bees. It’s a dark tale. But I think it ends on a hopeful note.

[ Music: “Aristotle’s Air,” from Production Music Made for Irish Music Stories
Artist/Composer: Matt & Shannon Heaton ]

It takes a village to make a megalomaniac. In order for a man to succumb to an obsession with power and delusions of grandeur, he needs context. He needs to be a member of society, to know how he is superior. And he needs hype agents to feed his ego and confidence, to help him believe in his destiny to lead, so that he can develop appropriate levels of swagger and bravado.

Until enough people have the clarity, or audacity, or naiveté to speak up.

Like the fairy tale child who tells the town the emperor is naked. Instead of pretending that he was wearing fine clothes (because the swindling tailors said only wise people could see the finery), the child, knowing nothing of social stations or career instability says, “But he has got nothing on.”

The innocent child reports what he sees. He’s a town criers. A public spokesperson. When he says the emperor has no clothes, he’s speaking truth for the public good.

The queen bee, unlike a human king, is a public servant. It’s her job to lay eggs, so the hive has reproductive male heirs. Their survival depends on it. And if the queen begins producing hungry, lazy, sterile males, the hive forms a tight ball around her and vibrates their wings to heat things up. They bite and sting, and ultimately they suffocate her to make room for a new queen who will work for the whole hive.

Every four years, The U.S. hive ushers in a president on January 20th. In 2025, Inauguration Day coincided with Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, when Americans celebrate a man committed to building a nation of opportunity for every citizen, and a democracy in which every voter can participate.

It was on a sunny MLK day in 2025 that the United States installed a new leader. By noon it was 27 degrees in Washington, same as it had been for Barack Obama in 2009 and Jimmy Carter in 1977. To keep his luncheon guests (and himself) warm, the 78-year old president-elect moved the celebration indoors, even though it meant there wasn’t room for the thousands who’d reserved tickets and had travelled to be with him. They were ready to brave the cold for him, but he chose to celebrate in the warm grand hall, with sparkling chandeliers and red, white, and blue decor.

His third wife did not shiver in her strapless white gown while she held a Bible for his oath swearing. He forgot to put his hand on the Holy Book when he promised to “do equal right to the poor and to the rich; and preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” But after the fancy party, he and his richest backer did stop by the rally where his supporters had been watching the festivities on a video screen. He staged a public signing of a few executive orders, including withdrawing from the Paris Climate Agreement and reclassifying civil service employees so they can be fired at will.

After dramatically inking a few pieces of paper, he threw his pen into the crowd and went back to the White House. It was a busy day: eating and parading around; pardoning hundreds of fellow felons; freezing civil rights cases (on Martin Luther King Jr. Day); stopping U.S. support for the World Health Organization; signing orders to establish only two sexes in the U.S. and to end birthright citizenship; and cancelling the system that asylum seekers use to schedule appointments with border agents (which also stranded people with long scheduled appointments).

He also censored the health and science agencies who track communicable diseases and address climate change.

And with that, the elderly ruler went to bed.

Did he dream of his subjects? Did he rest easy knowing that all these hardy people will continue to support his fight to liberate billionaires from taxation, even if they’re left out in the cold?

Even if they lose their green energy jobs and their health coverage?

Even if prices spike because of consumer tariffs—and labor shortages that result from mass deportrations?

Even if he deports their abuelos?

He threw them a marker, after all. And the day before his big party, he’d launched fun crypto coins they could purchase as “expressions of support.”

On that first evening in his White House, was he flooded with contentment, because his end game was to just wear the crown and let his dedicated staff bear any burdens of responsibility and accountability?

Or was his head just a little uneasy? Did he writhe just a little, knowing that his third wife would be enjoying her days away from Washington? Knowing that his campaign promises may hurt some of his voters? Did he suffer from indigestion after his inauguration luncheon of crab cakes, rib eye steak, and apple pie with ice cream? Was he already sick of playing leader?

The beehive is immune to partisan politics. Bees are hardwired to support systems that work for the whole hive. But the new president’s party is not run by bees. And in this fairy tale, whether he rocks himself to sleep alone in his White House, or like the naked emperor, “he bolts upright, stiffer than ever,” it seems his procession will go on, “with his chamberlains holding up his invisible veneer” of control and competence.

Until they don’t. Power is fleeting. Riches fade. So do grief and suffering.

It’s almost Spring again. Winter will soon fade. And using the enduring currency of storytelling, the honest child will look up at the canvas of the sky and report what he sees to his village, as the next king or queen is born.

[ Music: “Starry Lullaby,” from Perfect Maze

Composer: Shannon Heaton

Artists: Shannon Heaton & Friends ]

I ended the Perfect Maze album with my song Starry Lullaby. To remind myself (and my neighbors) that bad times aren’t forever. And good stuff also comes to an end. Mortality and ephemera can be heartbreaking. But expiration dates also give meaning and urgency and purpose to life. And marking beauty with songs and stories is a way of preserving it, and giving it new wings and resonance.

So endeth this IMS Sidequest. If you haven’t heard all six episodes—or if you missed the 80 Irish Music Stories adventures that came before, I hope you’ll dig into the archives. Find this podcast (and subsidiary sidequests) … and order copies of the Perfect Maze CD… or sheet music for the Perfect Maze Trio, Season of Change, or any of the pieces on the album.. at shannonheatonmusic.com.