When I was working at the golf course, I learned a lot about the ecosystem that flourished there. The course covered about 180 acres. An aquifer a few miles away provided water that was pumped into a small pond on the backside of the course, which was higher in elevation than the rest of the course.
That water was then fed into a series of canals and other water lines that eventually made their way to a larger body of water on the other side of the course. So, despite the hot dry summer days, there was always a source of water.
Water means fish. Fish attract birds of prey. Birds and squirrels and rabbits meant coyotes, who lived in rock dens near the 10th hole.
I remember watching coyote pups chasing golf balls and wrestling in the bunkers and seeing various species of hawks circle the course. Bald eagles showed up as well, and when they took to the air, no other wildlife dared to move.
It was fun cutting grass and watching all of these little interactions take place, until you happened to meet the other residents who liked to nest in sprinkler heads and valve control boxes in droves.
Bees.
I learned early on that those bees don’t like lawn mowers. Disturb them and they will chase you. It happened to me twice. I was able to find out just how fast that mower will really go.
You learn where they nest. You learn to visually scan the sprinkler heads and valve boxes before you’re on top of them. If you see them going in and out, you skip that area until later or you don’t worry about a perfect cut and just get through there fast.
It pays to be aware of your surroundings and keep an eye on what’s coming next.
One day I was assigned to cut the rough. The area to the side of the 5th hole was really overgrown. A sprinkler leak had given the weeds and grass all they needed to spread. The ground was soft and I had to navigate that big mower in between a decent number of olive trees.
I remember thinking “why hasn’t this been cut in so long?” as I looked at how tall the grass was. It didn’t matter – I was there and I was going to fix it and it would look good when I was done.
I didn’t think to ask anyone.
I was working my way slowly towards the last tree in the stand, trying to cut as close as possible to it, and almost bumped into it.
Thank goodness I didn’t.
I was so focused on the ground directly in front of the mower that I hadn’t looked up. As I did, I saw a steady stream of bees going in and out of the tree trunk right in front of me.
I did my best to look small and pretend the mower wasn’t as loud as a jet engine.
I slowly backed out and got away before their security team was notified of my presence.
When I got back to the shop, I started to tell the team leader where I was working before I had to move. Before I could finish the sentence, he said “bees?”
Seems like I had missed that part of the meeting.
I had gotten sucked into a sort of tunnel vision by being so focused on the task and my self-created sense of “urgency” (urgency…it was grass!). I had spent a significant portion of the previous three decades navigating and leading through much more challenging environments.
In the fray yet with eyes looking downrange. Dealing with the day-to-day but looking at that next bend in the road and anticipating what’s next. Keeping things in perspective so that sound decisions could be made.
Was there pressure to cut that specific area? Not from my boss. Was it significant? No.
Somehow, I attached significance AND pressure, and in the process lost broader awareness.
Nobody had told me it was urgent.
Nobody had told me I was responsible for solving it immediately.
Yet I acted as if both were true.
The story I had created went something like this.
The grass was tall.
Therefore it must be fixed.
Therefore it must be fixed now.
Therefore it must be fixed by me.
Therefore I will focus exclusively on that task.
And this can happen to leaders regularly.
Deadlines (real or imagined).
Metrics (actual or hypothetical).
Meetings (and more meetings).
Expectations (spoken or assumed)
So focused on the next ten feet in front of the mower that we stop noticing warning signs, tension, drift, and emerging problems.
The bees weren’t the problem.
The problem was that I had stopped looking up.
If this reflection made you think of another leader who may be carrying unnecessary pressure or urgency, feel free to forward it to them.
And if something in this reflection feels uncomfortably familiar, you're welcome to book a Leadership Strategy Call — a calm, pressure-free conversation designed to help leaders gain clarity, perspective, and a next step.
Dan
Advisor to Leaders
A steady presence when the weight of leadership gets heavy