But the bee paid no attention to my superior wisdom. It seemed to be gaining strength and increasing the tempo of its repairs. The bent veins that stiffened the gossamer wing were nearly straight now.
At last the bee felt sufficiently confident to attempt a trial flight. With an audible buzz it released its grip on the earth—and flew into a rise in the sand not more than three inches away. The little creature hit so hard that it tumbled. More frantic smoothing and flexing followed.
Again the bee lifted off， this time flying six inches before hitting another mound. Apparently the bee had regained the lift in its wings but had not mastered the directional controls. Like a pilot learning the peculiarities of a strange airplane， it experimented with short hops that ended ignominiously. After each crash the bee worked furiously to correct the newly discovered structural deficiencies.