Honey Bee Suite » other pollinators

And I thought bumbles were big

Rusty — Sat, 12 May 2012 17:06:46 +0000

What looks like a combination of a bumble bee and a hummingbird and a skipper? I certainly didn’t know as I began taking photos of this creature in the ligustrum bush.

At first I thought it was an oversized bumble. But I soon realized that it never held still. Rather than folding its wings while nectaring, it hovered like a hummingbird. Then I saw its tongue, which unwrapped like a roll of toilet paper and reminded me of a skipper. Then I saw the antennae, which were straight and looked nothing like those on a bee.

A name came to me before I looked it up: hawk moth. I had seen pictures of these before, but never saw one in person. So I looked up hawk moth and there is was! And no wonder I was confused, these behemoths are often called “bumble bee moths” because they look like what?

The hawk moths are in the Sphingidae family and are listed as important pollinators. The one I photographed was probably Hemaris diffinis—common throughout our region according to Insects of the Pacific Northwest by Haggard and Haggard (2006).

The honey bees working the ligustrum had been chasing off other pollinators, but not this one. They give it first dibs on everything it touched. Sort of like a bank, this moth is just too big to fail.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Hawk moth hovering while drinking nectar.

Uncoiling its very long tongue.

The little bee on the right is about honey bee size.

Pollinators on clematis

Rusty — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 23:21:50 +0000

Yesterday I saw these two little guys on the fall-flowering clematis just as the sun was setting. They look like a type of fly, but that’s all I know. Their wings glinted gold in the slanting sun, and they went from flower to flower, apparently happy to have found something in bloom.

A pair of pollinators

Pollinators are not going to change, so we have to

Rusty — Tue, 21 Dec 2010 21:47:15 +0000

It is easy to blame the loss of bee habitat on “them”—them being industrial farms, expansive orchards, sprayed fields, and freeways kept neat with herbicides. But in truth, our modern cities and suburbs are just as bad. We have covered the land with mulch, decking, concrete, flagstones, bricks, pavement, and lawns. None of these things are attractive to bees—not managed bees and certainly not solitary bees.

We install many of these unnatural surfaces to suppress weeds and mud. But it’s weeds and mud that the bees need. Most of the world’s bee species are solitary, and most of the solitary bees either nest in the ground or use mud to build their homes. By covering every square inch of earth with something to protect us from mud, we deny these creatures a place to live.

To make it all worse, the things we plant are not helpful to bees either. Lawns are carefully tended to preclude any broad-leaved plants. Lawns used to be planted with a clover and grass mix. Those lawns never needed nitrogen fertilizer because the bacteria that live on the roots of clover fixed atmospheric nitrogen into something the grass could use. But clover has long since fallen out of fashion. Now we kill the clover with chemicals and then add chemical fertilizer to make up for the lack of nitrogen. How can we be so confused?

And instead of lining our lawns with flower borders, we now use evergreen trees and shrubs that are easy care and don’t flower. Collectively, our lawns look sterile and uninviting—like the front of a bank. Sure, they are neat and trim, but nothing lives there.

Part of the problem is that we are busy, so we want landscapes that are easy to care for. But our gains in ease have been more than offset by losses in beauty, biodiversity, and seasonality. Our lawns look the same regardless of whether it is spring or fall, summer or winter. And somehow it is not okay to have worn and dead plants falling to the ground or dry seedheads releasing—heaven forbid—seeds. Everything must be clean, neat, sterile, and artificial. It is more acceptable to have a pink plastic flamingo in your suburban yard than a cosmos that has turned brown and fallen over. A junk car in the driveway is more acceptable than an overgrown lawn. And you can spread all the poisons you want—but please get rid of those dandelions!

We won’t be able to solve the problem of diminishing pollinators until we redefine what is good and bad in urban and suburban landscapes. We need to convert at least a portion of our close-cropped, weed-and-feeded, monocropped lawns into patches of meadow, wild flowers, clovers, and native plants. We have to understand that it’s okay for a plant to die back in the winter and for seeds to blow on the wind. And there has been room for—dare I say it?—mud .

Each time I ponder what I can do for the bees I realize that the problem is bigger than it first appears. Laws, ordinances, and homeowner associations preclude a lot of things that would be good for pollinators. Social norms preclude a lot more. And when pressed, people will explain that pollinators live “out there”—in the country, in the woods, or in the wild.

But there is no “wild” anymore, and the very worst place for bees is the agricultural regions. And the woods? The Department of Natural Resources in my own state routinely sprays new plantings of Douglas-fir with herbicide—which leaves nothing for wild bees to eat.

Unfortunately I don’t have an answer for any of this, but something has to give. Values have to change. A whole lot of people have to care. Until that time, the plight of the pollinators is simply going to get worse—and most of us won’t even know it is happening.

Rusty

Is there an environment the EPA actually protects?

Rusty — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 19:36:49 +0000

Much has been written in recent weeks about the unconditional EPA registration of the neonicotinoid clothianidin in spite of insufficient testing. Many classes of wildlife are at risk from this insecticide including fish and aquatic invertebrates, birds and mammals, amphibians and marine mollusks, and of course terrestrial invertebrates. If you’ve got the time and patience you can read the EPA documents which were leaked to a Colorado beekeeper at http://www.panna.org/sites/default/files/Memo_Nov2010_Clothianidin.pdf. Although called a memo, it runs 101 pages.

Nothing in this document is surprising. In fact, it is exactly what I wrote about in my master’s thesis. Clothianidin is just one of many popular pesticides that have received the green light from the EPA in spite of research that shows they cause significant harm to honey bee larvae. While the EPA requires testing on adult honey bees only, the real damage is being done at the larval stages through contaminated pollen. And believe me on this: no larvae means no adults.

Now, here’s what really has me annoyed. Every article, every editorial, and every tweet I’ve read about this memo refers exclusively to honey bees. But what about all the other pollinators? The memo itself mentions pollinators and then puts [honey bees] in brackets, as if honey bees were the only pollinators affected by the chemical. And while beekeepers are madly rearing queens, splitting colonies, and transporting bees all over the country to compensate for their losses, who exactly is taking care of the other pollinators?

The answer is “no one.”

Native bees, in particular, use pollen in much the same way as honey bees. Although not stored in large hives, the pollen is nevertheless collected and used to feed the developing larvae. Worse, native bees are not capable of the huge foraging distances typical of honey bees. They are pretty much forced to eat whatever is close by. If that is all poisoned, then those bees are toast.

It’s not that I have anything against honey bees; I hope that is obvious. But I’m concerned about our native bees—the little guys who took care of the world’s food supply before big rigs and freeways allowed us to haul honey bees all over the countryside.

Tell me this: Why do we think we have a right to kill everything in a field? Because it’s little? Because it’s icky or it might sting? Because we can’t see it or don’t know what it is? What is wrong with us? Many native bee species in North America and around the globe went extinct even before we identified them. We will never know what secrets they took with them or how they could have helped mankind in the future. We just don’t care. So with that as a precedent, we just go and kill more. What the heck?

So, okay. The clothianidin leak is a good thing. It may help honey bees and it may end up helping the wild bees as well. But what a price we’ve already paid—and continue to pay—because we think corporate interests are more important than bugs.

Rusty

Mining bees are wild bees that live underground

Rusty — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 17:53:12 +0000

Once you start studying the pollinators in your garden, you will see many different types. If you start recognizing some of your visitors, you will look forward to seeing those old friends and indentifying new ones. People seem to care more about the things they can put a name to, so I encourage you to spend some time with identifications.

The different species within the genera are very difficult to discern, but most people can learn to identify down to genus. That in itself is an accomplishment!

For instance, take the genus Andrena. The 1300 species in this genus are also called “mining bees” because they nest in the ground. Like most bee species, they are solitary, which means that all females are fertile and each one builds a nest by herself, provisions the nest with pollen and nectar, and lays the eggs. Unlike a honey bee colony, there are no workers, no honey production, nor any comb building.

The eggs hatch and the young bees progress through the larval stage to the pre-pupal stage before winter sets in. During the winter they remain in the pre-pupal stage until early spring when they complete their metamorphosis into adult bees, both male and female. The adults emerge from the ground, mate, and the females of this new generation begin to build their homes in a new underground chamber.

Solitary bees are often oligolectic, and Andrena bees are no exception. An oligolectic bee is one that collects pollen from only a select few plant species. Often these plants are very closely related—in the same family or even the same genus. In fact, some species of Andrena bees are monolectic, meaning they collect pollen from one—and only one—species of plant. It is easy to see that if that plant becomes rare or extinct, so does its pollinator. No wonder our wild bees are in trouble!

Andrena bees range from about 8-17 mm long. The females in this genus can be distinguished from other bees by the velvety patch of hair between the eyes and the antenna bases. They also have well-developed corbiculae—or pollen baskets—on the sides of the thorax and hind legs. Since the males do not collect pollen, they are not as hairy as the females. The males are also shorter and narrower than the females.

Because Andrena bees build their nests underground, they are adversely affected by farming practices such as tilling, plowing, disking, and spading. They also do not thrive in ground that has been completely cleared of vegetation because they like nesting sites that are protected from weather extremes by bushes or trees. Heavy mulch is also bad for Andrena bees because the females are not able to dig through mulch to get to the soil.

Needless to say, insecticides readily kill Andrena bees and herbicides kill the plants on which they are dependent. Maintaining a pesticide-free garden with plenty of bare soil and many plant varieties—including native species—is the best way to attract and conserve most native bees, including Andrena.

Rusty

Andrena fulva (female). Flickr photo by Mick E. Talbot.

Adrena haemorrhoa (female). Flickr photo by Mick E. Talbot.

Andrena (male). Flickr photo by jbaker5.

Milkweed surfaces as a green alternative

Rusty — Wed, 29 Sep 2010 15:38:03 +0000

After I wrote about milkweed fairies, I received the following story in an e-mail. Although I had read about this practice, I never knew of anyone who actually did it. Now I do.

Kapok trees produce pods with seeds surrounded by a fluffy, yellowish fiber that is water resistant. Kapok seed “fairies” have characteristics similar to milkweed fairies. Kapok was used to fill flotation devices. During WWII the United States source of kapok was cut off by the war in the Pacific. The US government called upon civilians to collect milkweed pods to turn in for processing. During the WWII, we collected fluffy milkweed “seeds” for processing as a substitute for kapok, used to pad life jackets for our troops on ships and to fill flying jackets. I remember collecting these pods as a very small child with my family. See, we used natural products for flotation devices. Being “green” is not new!

According to Wikipedia, Americans collected 5500 tons of milkweed floss during World War II.

Today, milkweed is being used by a Nebraska firm, Natural Fibers Corporation, to make a product called Hypodown. Made from four parts goose down to one part milkweed floss, the product is used to fill jackets, comforters, and pillows. Milkweed floss has been found to have excellent insulating properties and to be hypoallergenic as well.

Milkweed has a long and complex history. It has been used to prepare a medicinal tea to treat various ailments and the sap has been made into topical preparations. Parts of the plant have been eaten in certain cultures. It is said the Germans attempted to extract the latex for use as a rubber replacement, and Native American peoples used the stalks to make string and rope. And, of course, the monarch butterfly is completely dependent on the plant for its survival.

Unfortunately, milkweed is known as a tenacious perennial weed in cultivated croplands. Herbicides and the use of genetically-modified crops are wiping out milkweed in many parts of North America to the severe detriment of the monarch butterfly and other pollinators.

By encouraging commercial uses of milkweed—especially Asclepias syriaca or common milkweed—we can better care for that segment of our native pollinator population that is dependent on it.

Rusty

Asclepias syriaca. Photo by Forks of the Credit Provincial Park, Ontario.

Milkweed fairies due for a comeback

Rusty — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 15:03:09 +0000

Make a wish, blow it free.

What kid in America didn’t grow up chasing milkweed fairies? The hairy white seeds floated, bobbled, and danced across the grass while the neighborhood children delighted in catching the elusive prize. Once caught, you cupped it in your hands, made a wish, and blew it free. It tumbled out on a summer breeze and drifted to wherever.

Kids? I still catch milkweed fairies and I’m plenty old enough to know better.

The problem is this—there just aren’t as many milkweed seeds floating around as there used to be. For some reason we like to see more “refined” perennials growing along our fences, roadsides and utility easements. But that’s a bias that’s hurting the pollinators—especially the milkweed butterflies such as the monarch.

The awe-inspiring monarch is completely dependent on milkweeds for survival. The larval stage eats the leaves of the milkweed and stores a portion of the poisonous sap in its tissues. This poison remains throughout the life cycle of the monarch, making it distasteful to predators. If we want to save the wondrous migrating monarchs, we have to save the milkweeds.

Milkweeds don’t deserve the “weed” part of their name. They are sturdy perennials that love the sun and can live in poor and rocky soils. Depending on the species, they grow from 2 to 6 feet high and make excellent low-maintenance border and landscape plants. The flowers come in an astonishing array of colors that includes white, green, pink, purple, and brilliant orange, and the seed pods make eye-catching dried arrangements.

The best part is that milkweeds attract not only monarchs but a panoply of pollinators including bees, other butterflies, and hummingbirds.

So put it on your list. Buy some milkweed seeds. The organizations below will provide free or low-cost milkweed seeds in a variety of colors that are especially attractive to monarchs. The sites contain useful planting and care instructions as well.

Go ahead. Plant them for the butterflies . . . plant them for the kids . . . plant them for the fairies. Then make a wish.

Rusty

http://www.livemonarch.com/free-milkweed-seeds.htm

http://www.amazingbutterflies.com/milkweedseeds.htm

Milkweed seeds. Flickr photo by Muffet/liz west.

Monarch butterflies are losing habitat

Rusty — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 12:58:43 +0000

One of our most endangered pollinators in not a bee at all, but a butterfly. The monarch—a name nearly synonymous with “butterfly” in North America—is rapidly declining in number.

Like other pollinators, the monarch is exposed to pesticides, urban development, freeways, and modern farming. All of these take a toll. But the monarch is unique because, much like a bird, it makes a yearly migration from north to south and back again. Monarchs from east of the Rocky Mountains overwinter in southern Mexico. Monarchs from west of the Rockies overwinter around Pacific Grove, California.

Unlike a bird, however, the monarch migration spans several generations. In other words, the monarchs that left in the fall are not the same ones that come back in the spring. So how do they know where to go? This is a question that hasn’t been answered.

What we do know, however, is that habitat destruction is vastly reducing the number of monarchs that can survive the transcontinental trip. In Mexico, illegal deforestation is destroying the overwintering grounds that the monarchs have used for untold generations.

In the north, vast numbers of milkweed plants are being replaced by weed-free farms, cities, golf courses, and industrial complexes. Milkweeds in the genus Asclepias are the primary food of larval monarchs. The larvae, known as caterpillars, eat the leaves of the milkweed. These leaves contain toxic compounds called cardiac glycosides that the monarch stores in its tissues making them unpalatable—or even poisonous—to predators.

The monarchs cannot survive without the milkweeds or the overwintering grounds, meaning that the monarch is being squeezed at both ends of its long and arduous migration.

If you live in North America and would like to assist the monarchs you can plant milkweed plants such as Asclepias tuberosa, A. speciosa, A. syriaca, A. incarnata, and A. curassavica. In addition, the monarchs need nectar plants such as purple coneflower, cosmos, joe-pye weed, Mexican sunflower, verbena, and floss flower. And tell your friends. The more voices the monarch has, the greater our chance of saving it.

Rusty

Monarch butterfly. Flickr photo by audreyjm529.

Milkweed pod. Flickr photo by vieux bandit.

Bumble bees hibernate, honey bees do not

Rusty — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 16:29:07 +0000

Although honey bees and bumble bees are closely related, their winter behavior is very different.

A colony of honey bees will live throughout the entire winter, actively keeping the nest warm and safe. Although a winter colony is much smaller than a summer colony, it will nevertheless contain thousands of individuals. They eat and work all winter long–activity which requires a large cache of stored food.

Bumble bees do not maintain colonies throughout the winter. Instead, the last brood of the summer colony will contain a number of queens. Each of these queens will mate and then find a nest in which to overwinter. She alone will hibernate until spring.

While the bumble bee queen hibernates she is neither eating nor working. Her depressed rate of metabolism allows her to live for long periods while burning very little fuel.

In the spring, she must work hard. She begins by finding a suitable nesting spot. Next she builds a “honey pot” from wax and will use it to hold a small store of honey. She will also collect pollen, and make a pile of pollen mixed with honey called “bee bread.”

Here is where it gets weird. Much like a chicken, the queen bumble bee will lay her eggs on the pollen and then sit on them to keep them warm. During the development of the young bumble bees, the queen will eat the honey she stored in her pot.

The first batch of young bees will be mostly workers—bees who can take over the household chores and foraging while the queen continues to lay eggs. Later in the season, she will lay some eggs that become queens and drones. These bees will be the ones that are responsible for the next generation.

This life cycle is found in bumble bees throughout the temperate regions of the world. Some tropical bumble bees may have small colonies that survive for several years since there is no need to hibernate.

Rusty

Bumble bee on clover. Photo by the author.

Bee flies require a second look

Rusty — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 15:40:32 +0000

A lot of honey bees have been working the oregano in the last few weeks, but one day I noticed a bee that didn’t look quite right. It was slightly bigger than the rest and held its wings at a funny angle. Curious, I looked more carefully and realized it wasn’t a bee at all, but a fly.

In the past I would have assumed this was just a weird honey bee and not bothered to look further. But as I’ve studied pollinators more and more, I’ve come to realize the natural world is brimming with look-alikes—insects that mimic the appearance of other insects, especially bees.

The insect I saw is known as a “bee fly.” It is in the very large Bombyliidae family in the order Diptera. The adults feed on nectar and pollen, which makes them pollinators. The female lays her eggs in the nests of other insects, such as beetles, wasps, and solitary bees. When the eggs hatch, the newborn larvae eat the developing pupae of the host insect. How friendly.

There are about 5,000 known species of bee flies, and scientists suspect there are many more that haven’t yet been described. For the most part, the species in this family are poorly understood—mostly because they live singly and never appear in large groups or clusters.

Two things to look at when trying to distinguish between a fly and a bee are the wings and the antennae.

Bees have two pairs of wings and flies have one pair. This can be tricky, however, because a bee’s wings hook together so they move as a unit. Often the two pairs look like one pair.

A bee antenna is elbowed or bent. Fly antennae are often short, stubby, or extremely thin and hair-like.

Rusty

Bee fly on oregano. Photo by the author.

Bee fly and honey bee. Photo by the author.