Two Bee or Not Two Bee

 

Wait, what is that?? Is it dead? Oh my gosh, it’s SLEEPING! As I stood out in our wildflower garden, my sightline expanded and adjusted to the patch of zinnias before me. Not just one solitary bumble bee, but 20 or more, tucked up into the petals of ALL of the zinnias, ALL of them, sound asleep. It was an early autumn morning nearly a year ago, with just a little chill in the air, but otherwise calm and pleasant. I reached out my pinky finger and gently brushed the furry back and translucent wings of one of the bees, giving him a little “pet”, if you will. He responded, stretching one of his velvety back legs behind him. Startled, and a little bit afraid of getting stung, I pulled away and stood back. He groggily settled himself again and went back to sleep. 

           What had just happened? My life had been changed in an instant—well, my knowledge of bees certainly had, and I could not get that image out of my mind. Around noon, I returned to check on the happenings in the zinnia patch. Our bees had woken up and were busily feasting on zinnia nectar. Late that afternoon, just before sunset, I went out again, and patiently watched the amazing spectacle as each bee buzzed toward a final flower petal, slowed his pace, and settled into another night of sleep. The next morning, there they were, in the same snoozy positions, dowsed with dew.

This went on the entire month of October, and during that time, Google helped me with some online deep-dives. Did you know that male bumble bees don’t sting? They forage and they mate…and from my observations they sleep in the flowers at night. Bumble bees don’t reside in a hive the same way that honey bees do. I have so much more in common with bumble bees than I do with honey bees. Honey bees are colonized, organized, and sort of “Type A”. Bumble bee queens build something that is more akin to a bird’s nest, usually underneath leafy brush, and they only build what they need for that season. They don’t “keep everything in labelled plastic containers” like a honey bee would. They pass their days in a sort of organized mess, but they get the job done, and I can relate to that. Neither are bumble bees hoarders. They only produce the honey they use daily. They are true minimalists, reusing and recycling old nests and the abandoned nests of other little varmints. The fact that they can fly in spite of what Physics says, is also something to which I aspire.

When Gary Bird and I decided to plant wildflowers, we wanted something that would self-perpetuate, and that would be bee and butterfly friendly. We learned exotic names such as “crimson clover”, “coreopsis”, “lupine”, and “coneflower”. We watched the early spring blooms fade away as mid-summer blossoms took over. And of course, the end-of-summer zinnias so beloved by the bumble bees. Our favorite wildflower by far as been Chicory--long, tall stems, laced up and down with petite periwinkle flowers that close up at night, opening again each morning with the warmth of the sun.

We have found that the look of the garden changes with each season. This summer the zinnia patch has been sparse, so the bumble bees have been feasting on garlic-chive blossoms instead and also white asters which look like miniature daisies. They sleep on the asters now. They don’t look near as comfy as their parents did the year before in the zinnias.

While we were away on a trip this spring, some new “neighbors” moved in. Two colonies of bald-faced hornets made their nests just to the south of the wildflowers, thinking I’m sure, “Oh, what a lovely location to build our summer home! We have food right outside our door and we can get buzzed at the corner hummingbird feeder as well. Let’s ‘break ground’ over there in that garage light fixture—that North Woods one with the deer emblem on it—yes, that’s the one! And my cousin, Queen Mildred, can start building her cottage up underneath the shed door—it will be great fun!”

By the time we returned after our trip, it was too late to boot out the squatters. Lesson learned the hard way: Bald-faced hornets are not nearly so sweet as bumble bees. They are, however, just as interesting…from a safe distance. As the summer wore on, their papery hives grew larger and longer. The colony residing in our garage light entirely enveloped the fixture so that the deer appears to be standing on top of their house, like a weather vane, while the bottom hangs down like a dripping ice cream cone. They truly are a beautiful insect, shiny and fierce looking, but large enough that I’d swear they have human-like facial expressions. We put grape jam out for our orioles, and the bald-faced hornets found it like they had discovered a gold mine. I was able to get up close to them to observe the gluttony. They didn’t care about me then, because they were so consumed with their debauchery. A half dozen or more of Queen Mildred’s offspring would slip in around the glass plate of jam, like happy hour at a local tavern. As they drove their long proboscises into the sticky purple preserves, they would cock their heads at each other as if to say, “Hot damn, this is good jam!” or “Hey, you’re on my side! Move over!”

It has been easy to welcome bees of all sorts here at the Bird House. After all, Kaye Bird’s nickname, given to her by her grandchildren, was Grandma Bee. Our children have Bee tattoos in honor of their beloved mother. My own sister, Brenda, is also known as Grandma “Bee” in her household. We’re in good company.