Whenever I take pictures for this blog, I always end up getting propolis stuck to my camera. I’ve tried wearing gloves or not, tried wrapping plastic bags around my camera, and tried cleaning my hands between shots. Nothing works. [...]]]> I hate to spend time re-inventing the wheel, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

Whenever I take pictures for this blog, I always end up getting propolis stuck to my camera. I’ve tried wearing gloves or not, tried wrapping plastic bags around my camera, and tried cleaning my hands between shots. Nothing works. When I’m done, I can’t even let go of it. I have to pry it off my hand.

When I really examine it, I see that cameras are made of metal, plastic, and glass with a variety of finishes and textures. The non-slip grip is especially annoying because the little slip-resistant interstices become filled with propolis. Prying it out with a toothpick just isn’t my thing.

So I began searching for a non-polar solvent that would not damage metal, plastic, or glass, and that would leave the finishes intact but still remove the propolis. It should dry quickly and be readily available, not too expensive, and not dangerous to breathe. So what was it?

It’s embarrassing to say it took me a long time to come up with alcohol. As for re-inventing the wheel, those little lens cleaning wet-wipe thingys are soaked in the stuff. Duh.

So I ended up trying 91% isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol and, by golly, it worked. My camera looks great and—an added benefit—it still works. After such success, I went around cleaning propolis off all kinds of things that shouldn’t have it.

I would have preferred ethanol (ethyl alcohol) for this purpose because it’s not nearly so poisonous. But here in the states it’s impossible to find any that’s not mixed with something sticky, expensive, or highly taxed. So, under the pretext of protecting me from myself, the government wants me to buy ethanol made more poisonous by denaturing it, so I’ll stick with isopropyl for now and try to understand my government later.

At any rate, if you need to clean propolis off a hard surface, isopropyl alcohol will do the trick. It works on fabric as well except that stains from the plant tannins (or whatever they are) in the propolis tend to remain. I cleaned some propolis off my jeans and I can still see a faint outline of where it was—but at least the propolis itself is gone and won’t be able to transfer to something else in the dryer.

Rusty

HoneyBeeSuite.com

According to The ABC & XYZ of Bee Culture, European honey bee workers on an empty stomach number about 4000 to the [...]]]> When your three-pound package of bees arrives, aren’t you just dying to know how many bees are in there? You know your cost per pound, but what is your cost per bee?

According to The ABC & XYZ of Bee Culture, European honey bee workers on an empty stomach number about 4000 to the pound (or about 8800 bees per kilogram). On the other hand, well-fed workers—which you hope you are getting—number about 3000 bees per pound (or roughly 6600 bees per kilogram).

Since some bees in your package are probably well-fed and some are hungry we can split the difference and call it 3500 bees per pound. Multiplied by three, this gives you 10,500 bees per three-pound package—most of which will die over the next few weeks. So let’s say you paid $75/package. Your cost per bee—dead or alive—is about $75/10500 or 0.71 cents per bee.

However, this calculation does not consider the mated queen that came with the package. So let’s deduct $20 for her and recalculate. Your price per semi-well fed worker is now $55/10500 bees or 0.52 cents. Two for a penny . . . such a deal.

But this calculation doesn’t consider any postage, cage fees, or taxes . . . and my cost estimates are based on 2010 prices. Those girls are getting pretty spendy, so you better take very good care of them!

Rusty

Subspecies: A. m. carnica (Carniolan) Subspecies: A. m. caucasica (Caucasian) Subspecies: A. [...]]]> Below is the scientific classification of the western honey bee as it now stands:

• Kingdom:  Animalia

• Phylum:  Arthropoda

• Subphylum:  Uniramia

• Class:  Insecta

• Order:  Hymenoptera

• Suborder:  Apocrita

• Superfamily:  Apoidea

• Family:  Apidae

• Subfamily:  Apinae

• Tribe:  Apini

• Genus:  Apis

• Subgenus: Apis

• Species: A. mellifera

Subspecies: A. m. carnica (Carniolan)
Subspecies: A. m. caucasica (Caucasian)
Subspecies: A. m. ligustica (Italian)
Subspecies: A. m. mellifera (European dark)

I’ve listed the subspecies most often kept for commercial purposes, all four of which originated in Europe. However, there are many, many subspecies of Apis mellifera native to Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. Two that frequently make the news are A. m. scutellata, the African honey bee, and A. m. capensis, the cape honey bee also from Africa.

The subspecies are confusing and difficult to distinguish, partly due to the fact that mankind has been manipulating honey bee populations throughout human history. There are many crosses, lines, and strains with their own names, but which freely cross with other Apis mellifera bees. Examples of such lines are the Buckfast (a cross between European dark and Italian bees) and the Russian (a strain of Carniolan bees).

In recent times, the Caucasian bee has fallen out of favor because of its excessive (by human standards) use of propolis in the hive. The European black bee is known for stinging without provocation and so is less often kept than it used to be. Historically, the different subspecies and lines were evaluated for honey production and overwintering ability. Now, however, these different genetic pools are being evaluated for their ability to withstand diseases, parasites, and other environmental stressors. Every last strain is important because it may contain a gene that will save the species.

Rusty

I have two favorite [...]]]> As a general rule, I believe there is more than one way to do most things—all of which are dependent on the facts and circumstances in the specific case. However, there is one issue on which I will not give an inch, and that is the spelling of “honey bee.”

I have two favorite quotes on this subject. The oldest comes from Anatomy of the Honey Bee by Robert E. Snodgrass (1956):

Regardless of dictionaries, we have in entomology a rule for insect common names that can be followed. It says: If the insect is what the name implies, write the two words separately; otherwise run them together. Thus we have such names as house fly, blow fly, and robber fly contrasted with dragonfly, caddicefly, and butterfly, because the latter are not flies, just as an aphislion is not a lion and a silverfish is not a fish. The honey bee is an insect and is preeminently a bee; “honeybee” is equivalent to “Johnsmith.”

The above quote surfaces frequently. For example, it appears as a “Linguistic Note” at the front of Letters from the Hive by Stephen Buchmann (2005).

The second quote is much more recent and a little easier to read. It appears as the “Author’s Note” in Fruitless Fall by Rowan Jacobsen (2008):

Copyeditors of the world beware. The spelling of insect names in this book follows the rules of the Entomological Society of America, not Merriam-Webster’s. When a species is a true example of a particular taxon, that taxon is written separately. Honey bees and bumble bees are true bees, and black flies are true flies. A yellowjacket, however, is not a true jacket. Entomologists, who have to read the names of bugs a lot more than the rest of us do, would appreciate it if we all followed these rules.

So there you have it. To me, it is a closed subject.

Rusty

I wanted to know if it was one-third [...]]]> A while back I wrote Bees pollinate one-third of what? Do we really know? In that post I questioned the frequently repeated statement that “bees pollinate one-third of the human food supply” because I could never discover who calculated this number or how it was calculated.

I wanted to know if it was one-third by weight, volume, calories, dollars, species, or some other measurement. I wanted to know if the one-third was really pollinated by bees, or if that number included all pollinating insects, or if it included animal pollinators as well.

This research is a chore I managed to put off. But this morning I received an impressive review of published literature from an interested reader. You can read her original comments, which are appended to the original post. What she found is interesting. Everyone it seems–even in the peer-reviewed literature–is citing someone else when they publish these numbers. By following the citations backwards, she pinpointed a publication by McGregor (1976) as the source for most of these comments. But no one, so far as she can tell, ever shows calculations.

The suspect publication by S.E. McGregor, “Insect Pollination of Cultivated Crop Plants,” comes closest to providing something of value. But even this document mentions percentages of the human diet without further defining what is meant or how it was calculated. He writes about the number of food species pollinated by insects and about the acres of U.S. soil planted to insect-pollinated crops. From there–in a truly mind-bending leap of faith–he draws conclusions about the percentage of our diet that is derived from insect-pollinated plants.

So it looks like we still don’t have a complete answer, but I wanted to thank Jess for all her efforts at trying to solve this vexing problem . . . and for finding McGregor.

It occurs to me that this conundrum–of one author citing another ad infinitum–is something that we as individuals and societies must be wary of. It is so easy to believe often-cited statistics, advice, or beliefs just because they are often cited. We assume that if everyone says something, it must be true. In this case I am not saying that insects don’t pollinate one-third of the food supply, I just want to know how the calculation was made. Is that asking too much?

Rusty

Dear Angry Person,

In case you hadn’t noticed, the world population is edging toward 7 billion—that’s a 7 with nine zeros after it. Among these people are a whole lot that don’t like each other, [...]]]> This is an open letter to the person who looked for the answer to this question on my website:

Dear Angry Person,

In case you hadn’t noticed, the world population is edging toward 7 billion—that’s a 7 with nine zeros after it. Among these people are a whole lot that don’t like each other, and many who don’t like anything at all.

I don’t know what your problem is, whether you dislike bees, have an allergy, or don’t like your neighbor. But whatever the problem, you are definitely taking the wrong approach.

Talk to your neighbor about the problem or, if you can’t do that, talk through an intermediary. Go to a lawyer if you must, but do not try to kill your neighbor’s bees. You will only make your problem worse.

I have had neighbor problems in the past (nothing to do with bees) and I know it can be frustrating. The thing that helped us prevail, however, is that we stayed on the right side of the law. We let our neighbor do the dirty tricks, the trespassing, the theft, the stalking, and the slander. By the end, even his own lawyer didn’t believe him. Hard as it may be not to retaliate, it is the only thing a reasonable, productive member of society can do.

I guarantee that no one will look at you favorably for killing someone else’s bees. You just make yourself look stupid.

So go find someone to help you resolve this problem through negotiation. If your neighbor is in the wrong by keeping bees where it is not allowed, he will have to do things differently. If he is doing nothing wrong, then you are the one who will have to change. Get used to it. Get a life.

Rusty

Almost every day I read something like this: “One third of all the food we eat is pollinated by bees.” I just read it again today–twice. Some say “every third bite” which sounds like volume; some say “one-third of all crops” which sounds like a species count.

Please tell me about this [...]]]> Dear Readers,

Almost every day I read something like this: “One third of all the food we eat is pollinated by bees.” I just read it again today–twice. Some say “every third bite” which sounds like volume; some say “one-third of all crops” which sounds like a species count.

Please tell me about this one third. Is it one-third by weight, volume, calories, dollars, species, or some other measurement I haven’t thought of? I would like to know who came up with this number and how it was calculated. I would also like to know if they really mean bees, or if they mean pollinating insects, or all pollinating animals.

The thing is, it’s hard to defend an argument when you have no clue how the numbers were obtained. I’ve had several readers ask me where the one-third came from and it’s embarrassing not to know. It feels like that circle game where you keep passing on a message, and by the time the last person gets it, it’s totally garbled and nothing like the original.

If anyone can help, I would greatly appreciate hearing from you. There are many other people waiting to hear the answer as well. Remember, we will never be persuasive in our bid to save pollinators, if we are not believable in our statistics. Please help me figure this out!

Rusty

One-third of what?

I [...]]]> Okay, I’m filing this under “infrequently asked questions,” but about five years ago my doctor asked me this exact question and I’ve been mulling over it ever since. I’ve never actually seen anyone fill a smoker with marijuana, but that doesn’t mean anything. And the doctor was from Texas, which probably explains everything.

I find it amazing that so many beekeepers use a smoker. It’s even referred to as the “beekeeper’s best friend.” But the day I gave mine up was the best beekeeping day of my life. So what’s wrong with a smoker?

For starters, it makes me sneeze. I’ve tried all kinds of fuel, including burlap, sisal twine, wood chips, and smoker pellets, but they all make me miserable. Also, I don’t have enough hands to manipulate the smoker, the hive tool, the lid, and whatever else I have with me. While klutzing around with it, I’ve ignited brush fires, scorched wooden equipment, burned holes in my bee suit, blistered my fingers, and killed a lot of worker bees. Half the time I forget to bring something to light it with, and the rest of the time I can’t get it lit regardless of which incendiary device I use. And once it’s lit, it always goes out before I’m done.

Then there’s the question of the honey. When exposed to smoke, bees tend to fill up on honey. This is the very thing that “calms” them down. To get the honey they will tear open sealed comb, if necessary, and make a mess of it. If you are trying to produce comb honey, a smoke-crazed bee is the last thing you want. Sometimes, too, flecks of ash can land on the comb, or the comb takes on the smell and/or taste of burned fuel. For those producing extracted honey or just pollinating, these honeycomb problems are pretty much a non-issue. But like I say, how you keep bees is very dependent on what you’re trying to accomplish.

In any case, if you don’t want to use a smoker, then don’t. The bees can be a bit irritating at times, but you get used to them, or you can spray them with a light mist of sugar syrup.  I find the bees way less annoying than the smoker, and going without means fewer distractions in the field as well. So, while I don’t know why beekeepers are so addicted to their smokers, maybe the good doctor was onto something.

Rusty