"Crikey! That's was a close 'un!"
Steve Irwin, the Aussie known as the Crocodile Hunter, has just stared into the yawning jaws of a great croc, jumping back out of harm's way just as the creature takes a snap at him.
The bloody bloke seems to be everywhere these days: If he's not in the bush, or camped on a billabong, you'll find him on Discovery Channel, his own television specials, his Web site (AnimalPlanet.com) and in TV commercials. He'll handle animals as mad as a cut snake, and if he has a mind to, he'll tell them to "rack off," and he'll be off runnin' with the roos (for an Aussie glossary, go to AnimalPlanet.com). He's not afraid to expose himself to venom, even on the off chance that, once bitten, the anti-venom might not be delivered by FedEx.
But our story today is not about a bloke in the bush but a monk in the mountains. And we're talking not about crocs but bees. Honeybees.
They're capricious little critters. But cross them just once, and they'll zing you and sting you.
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