(This column was first published in the June 10, 2002 Buffalo News.)
When one of our first warm spring mornings finally
arrived in late May, I spent several minutes watching a bumblebee visit the
blossoms of an early-flowering honeysuckle. The scene had the quality of a
circus act.
The queen bee was like the Disney elephant Dumbo
flying between trapezes of delicate petals. Each time she landed on one of the
flower clusters she could stay for only an instant before the twig holding the
honeysuckle trumpets bent and threw her off.
But she kept trying -- and she had to. This was a
busy time for the big black and yellow bee. After overwintering in hibernation,
she now had much to do. She almost certainly had already found an abandoned
underground mouse nest in which to initiate this year's new colony. She would
have added fine material -- grasses and wood fibers -- to the nest interior to
spruce it up and narrowed the entrance so that only she could just squeeze
through.
As soon as her household surroundings suited her, she
had to rush out to gather nectar and pollen to provide special furnishings for
her brood. Coming back loaded down, she created a thimble-shaped honey pot just
inside the entrance to serve as a reserve food supply that would carry her
through more poor spring weather.
Farther into the nest behind this store of honey she
deposited a waxy pile of pollen. Working carefully now with her jaws, she
constructed in it a wax cell in which she deposited eight to ten eggs. They
were fertilized last fall in her encounters with short-lived drones. All of
those drones and her worker sisters as well died when cold set in. Only she and
other queens found protected refuges where they slept through the winter.
As soon as the eggs were laid, the queen sealed the
cell with more wax. Now, like a bird, for two to three weeks she will have to
alternate between brooding and dashing out on brief forays to find food to
maintain her body temperature.
When those first eggs hatch, the maggot-like larvae
that emerge will require feeding by their busy mother as they quickly pass
through four molts. Then, their sustenance abruptly halted -- so that they will
not become queens themselves -- the larvae will form silky cocoons in which
they will pupate into adult worker bees. Only when they emerge will the queen's
duties be reduced. The workers will begin to take over foraging and will help
with the care of subsequent broods as well.
Yes, bumblebees do sting and unlike honeybees that
can only strike once, an individual bumblebee can do so again and again because
its stinger is not barbed. They seldom do so, however. They are docile insects
focused on their important work for, like honeybees, bumblebees are wonderful
pollinators. They play this role not just in our gardens but in our wild areas
as well. You can support these important insects in your yard next spring by
placing some dried grass inside an inverted flower pot to serve as a nest site.
The hole in the pot's base provides an entrance.
An aside: This bumblebee was visiting an
early-blooming honeysuckle. There is also a late-flowering species. Many
honeysuckles, especially the alien Japanese variety, are looked upon with
disfavor by environmentalists for they are weedy shrubs and vines that displace
native shrubs in our woodlands. But these early and late-blooming forms serve
pollinators well by providing nectar and pollen during off-seasons when the
insects' smorgasbord of food sources is severely limited. If you think of
planting a fragrant honeysuckle, consider one of
them.-- Gerry Rising