Something we don't know

Walking this week we heard a droning sound as we walked through the canopy of pin oak, buckeye, and pine.
We keep the path trimmed but the trees keep reaching for sunlight. The result is almost like a tunnel through the underbrush.
The further we walked, the louder the droning sound became. Finally, at one end of the "tunnel", stood a sumac bush with a bloom the color of freshly churned butter.
Those blossoms contained thousands of bees. Some were honey bees, some were bumble bees, and there were other bees I can't name.
This has been a strange summer, and I can't help but thing that something's up. They're tanking up earlier than usual.
It's the same with our hummingbirds. We kept nectar out all spring and summer and saw only a few visits a day.
The last week they've been drinking almost a cup of nectar a day out of the two feeders by our windows.
You're taking your life into your own hands if you walk close to the blazing star, bleeding hearts, or old maids. You'll get cursing hummingbirds saying unkind things about your linage.
Normally we don't see this level of activity until late August. It's hard to say, but maybe they know something we don't know.