'Dancing with Bees'

Dancing with Bees: A journey Back to Nature published by Chelsea Green Publishing .  Illustrated by Dartmoor naturalist and wildlife illustrator John Walters

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About the book:  'Brigit Strawbridge Howard was shocked the day she realised she knew more about the French Revolution than she did about her native trees. The thought stopped her—quite literally—in her tracks. But that day was also the start of a journey, one filled with silver birches and hairy-footed flower bees, skylarks, and rosebay willow herb, and the joy that comes with deepening one’s relationship with place.  Dancing with Bees is Strawbridge Howard’s charming and eloquent account of a return to noticing, to rediscovering a perspective on the world that had somehow been lost to her for decades and to reconnecting with the natural world. With special care and attention to the plight of pollinators, including honeybees, bumblebees, and solitary bees, and what we can do to help them, Strawbridge Howard shares fascinating details of the lives of flora and fauna that have filled her days with ever-increasing wonder and delight.'

Reviews: 

“Dancing with Bees is one of the most important and accessible and entertaining books I’ve ever read. Brigit has poured meticulous detail and research into her book, which has left me with even more respect for our precious bees than I ever thought possible. What’s more, it’s a touching, sensitive account of what makes us human and how we connect to the natural world. Everyone should read it.”—Kate Bradbury, author of Wildlife Gardening and The Bumblebee Flies Anyway

“We are handed a lens—light, bright, beautiful things come into focus. Brigit’s flare for observation and description, passion for knowledge, and ease with communication involve us in adventuring through the looking glass to explore with her the intimate life of wild bees. Gently, this timely book reminds us that nature is in trouble and that we must all join the dance.”—Sue Clifford and Angela King, founding directors, Common Ground

“Brigit Strawbridge Howard is an excellent pollinator of information. Dancing with Bees is a book teeming with love: for bees but also for the natural world as a whole and, by extension, for life itself. Everyone who cares about the future of our planet should read it.”—Tom Cox, author of 21st-Century Yokel

“A beautiful book and one that hums with good life. Brigit Strawbridge Howard came late to bees but began noticing them at a time when their going was being widely announced. Her attention has been clear-sighted but also loving. By looking closely at the hummers and the buzzers, she has begun to take in the whole of what Charles Darwin called the ‘tangled bank’ of life, where there are bees (and Brigit’s winning descriptions will help you know them) and there are plants, and there are other pollinators and nectar-seekers, including Homo sapiens. No other insect—surely no other animal—has had such a long and life-giving relationship with humans. Bees may well have shaped our evolution; our continued well-being is certainly dependent on them. Bees have long been part of our consciousness and art, buzzing in parables and fables and ancient and modern poems made out of their industry and their organisation and their marvellous sweet products. All that is in this book: It is ambrosia.”—Tim Dee, author of Landfill

“Dancing with Bees is a brilliantly described journey of discovery of bees, trees, people, and places, imbued with a childlike wonderment. Learn about cuckoo bees, carder bees, bees that are not bees, the commonplace and the rare. It is never too late to reconnect with nature and rewild oneself.”—Steven Falk, author of Field Guide to the Bees of Great Britain and Ireland

“While the plight of our overworked honeybees elicits much hand-wringing, the rest of Earth’s splendorous apian diversity has remained unjustly obscure. In this winning tribute to our black-and-yellow fellows, Brigit Strawbridge Howard celebrates the virtues of dozens of less heralded, but no less crucial, wild species—mining bees, leaf-cutting bees, mason bees, cuckoo bees. Like a bee herself, Strawbridge Howard is at once pragmatic and whimsical, flitting lightly between practical advice for crafting a bee-friendly garden and wise digressions about our manipulative relationship with nature. By the end of Dancing with Bees, you’ll wholeheartedly agree that these indispensable creatures should be extolled as ‘our equals, not our minions.’”—Ben Goldfarb, author of Eager

“A joy-filled voyage of discovery through the wonderful world of bees.”—Dave Goulson, author of Bee Quest and A Sting in the Tale

“In this delightful book, Brigit Strawbridge Howard brings us into the fascinating and often overlooked world of bees. She introduces us to solitary nesting bees that lay their eggs in empty snail shells, cuckoo bees that make other bees take care of their eggs, and the amazing social lives of bumblebees and honeybees. Her curiosity and wonder at these small creatures are infectious and will inspire a greater appreciation of our natural world.”—Nancy J. Hayden, coauthor of Farming on the Wild Side

“I devoured this book as I would a jar of exquisite honey. I was as fascinated by it as I would be watching a hive of bees at work. I may read another nature book this year, but not a better one. Or a more important one. As is made so manifestly clear in these pages, we need our bees. Thank God, then, for Brigit Strawbridge Howard, our queen bee-advocate.”—John Lewis-Stempel, author of Still Water and Meadowland

“Dancing with Bees is a passionate hymn to nature, a joyful celebration not just of bees, but of the power of paying attention. Strawbridge Howard’s rediscovery of the natural world is infused with a sense of wonder both irresistible and infectious. And the promise of this beautiful book is that if we take the trouble to notice our natural surroundings, we too can find a way to reconnect not just to nature, but to a deeper sense of ourselves.”—Caroline Lucas, MP, former Green Party Leader

“Well written and researched, beautifully illustrated, and packed with natural history detail, Dancing with Bees is a book to start you off on a journey that could well become an obsession. Even if you are well versed in the ways of bees, you will still want to wrap yourself in the warmth of this charming book. Brigit Strawbridge Howard gently shows you all the things you may have been missing; you are about to enter a macro-world of wonder and delight. I absolutely loved this book. If, due to infirmity perhaps, I am ever unable to walk in the countryside, I can now go dancing with bees whenever I choose.”—Dr. George McGavin, president, Dorset Wildlife Trust; honorary research associate, Oxford University Museum of Natural History

“Brigit Strawbridge Howard leads us on a wistful pilgrimage of awakening into the world of bees who are among the most fascinating, charismatic, and important of insects. Written in an easy, accessible style without shying away from solid facts and beguiling detail, and beautifully illustrated by renowned Devon naturalist John Walters, Strawbridge Howard’s book is the result of hundreds of hours of watching, listening, and learning in her garden and the wider countryside, wondering what the future might bring and how human excesses may be curbed.”—Stuart Roberts, entomologist

“Hovering through Brigit Strawbridge Howard’s remarkable encounters with bees, alighting on beautiful and often unexpected descriptions of bumblebees, miner bees, and even parasitizing cuckoo bees, one dips into a world most of us have forgotten. By leading us gently and discretely into the minutiae of nature, Brigit shows how rewarding it is to reconnect—how the world’s tiniest beings can not only lift our spirits, but signal the way to a richer, wilder future.”—Isabella Tree, author of Wilding

“Sprinkled with moments of pathos, this exquisite book is the perfect introduction to the often neglected world of wild bees—and the beautiful plants with which they dance an ecosystem into life.”—Hugh Warwick, author of Linescapes and Hedgehog

“Dancing with Bees is an antidote to the reality of modern life that’s spent nose down in our smartphones while the wondrous stuff—nature—goes on all around us. Brigit Strawbridge Howard chronicles her own journey of reconnecting with the natural world with heartfelt eloquence. Her descriptions of the creatures, plants, and landscapes that populate her journey are made with the unabashed joy of someone for whom a veil has been lifted, revealing a world to be cherished but also in great need of our protection.”—Matthew Wilson, garden designer; author; panelist, BBC Radio 4’s Gardeners’ Question Time

Monetisation of Nature.

I am so tired of hearing about the importance of 'economic growth' - and I despair of humanity if we have reached the stage where wildlife is only conserved for its monetary value.  The same goes for water, air, and soil quality. Every time I hear references these days to the natural world and its importance to us (the human race), the commentary is dotted with phrases like 'natural resources', 'ecosystem services', 'pollinator services', 'natural capital' etc. Phrases such as these make me wince. I have tried to understand them, but I simply cannot.

As far as I can see we have already done plenty of economic 'growing' but I see no evidence whatsoever that it is making us any happier, or healthier…. nor is it helping those who are most in need.  It just seems to be stripping away the last vestiges of the connection we once had with the natural world. How on earth can you have an intimate, loving and interconnected relationship with something you have to put a price tag on?!

Economic growth seems to be about putting price tags on just about everything that moves; whether it has six legs and two pairs of wings, is composed of two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen, or lives next door and is willing to look after your small child or your elderly mother whilst you have a break. It's called monetisation, and over the last few decades it seems to have insidiously crept its way into every area of our lives.

Surely the clue to how we should function as a species is in how we feel and see things as children? i.e our natural state of being. We are born with an innate connection to Planet Earth, a connection that (if it is nurtured) fills us with love and concern for our fellow creatures, but this connection is systematically drummed out of us when we go to school, if not before, and is mostly replaced with a very human-centric 'what can it do for me' view of the world.

Whatever happened to us caring for something and wanting to conserve it simply for the love of life? What, I wonder, has happened to the human race that we are now so disconnected from the land, from our natural surroundings, from our communities and from our own inner selves…. that we have all but forgotten who we are….?

There are of course many people who still have, or have re-discovered, their intimate connection with the natural world; people who hold all life sacred and who do what they can to conserve and preserve that life for its own sake rather than for what is is worth in monetary terms. But these people are still few and far between.

I battle with the fact that to inspire (most) businesses, councils and individuals to sit up and take notice of the importance and urgency of 'bee decline', introducing them to the wonderful, enchanting, and enthralling world of these incredible beings is not enough. Most people need, at the very least, to understand bees importance as pollinators in the human food chain in order that they will take their decline more seriously.  Surely bee decline, or the decline of any other species impacted upon by the human race for that matter, should be a serious issue in its own right?

Having said all this, I do still witness sadness and horror as some begin to understand exactly how toxic pesticides such as neonicotinoids are to bees, and exactly how much habitat has been lost to modern agricultural practices and urban sprawl… not to mention the undiluted shock people express when they hear how bumblebees are bred in their thousands to 'service' commercial tomato crops, and then frozen, drowned or burned to death after the pollinating is done.

Whether or not any of this has a lasting impact on the way people make their choices I do not know.

There are many reasons used to justify the ongoing shift towards putting a monetary value on the natural world, and we are all entitled to think/believe what we wish, but despite the crazy irony that governments are paying huge attention to bee decline simply because of their so called 'value to the economy',  none of these justifications sit well with me. Lucky bees that they have been deemed to be worth £billions. Not so lucky if you are an insect with little, or no value to the economy though, for in this case you are ultimately dispensable.

My own belief is that if we are to save what is left of the incredible diversity of species we share this planet with, nothing short of a complete Sea-change in our collective psyche is needed. Putting a price on wildlife, clean water and air, or healthy 'living' soil is not the solution. It just creates more problems and disconnects us further from all that is sacred. 

If only we would all spend a little time each day (or even each week) simply sitting quietly on the grass, beside a stream, on a beach, in a garden, in a park, amongst some rocks, underneath a tree (or even better, in a tree!)…. and just listen, breath, observe, watch, notice, absorb…….. connect. If we were all to do this we might collectively begin to experience once again that unadulterated wonderment, enchantment and love we felt when we were children. And we cannot hurt that which we love.

Brigit x

P.S…..when did a bee last send you an invoice?

Brexit or Mass Extinction. Which is more important?

All I hear when I switch on the radio is 'Brexit', 'Brexit', 'Brexit'..... interspersed with 'Economy', 'City', 'Business', 'Growth'... and loads more words and terms like 'backstop' that I have totally given up trying to keep up with.

I know, it's all very important. But why do I hear NOTHING about Mass Extinction, Global Deforestation, Food Security or the fact that Climate Breakdown is actually happening, here, now, on this planet we call home? Even the terrible fires and the deaths of those poor people in California seem not to be ringing alarm bells.

The thing is, you cannot have 'economy' without 'ecology'. It just doesn't add up. If we don't take care of our 'home' (ecology), what is the point in the rest? You cannot run a home if you don't have a home to run - no matter how much money you have in the bank!

I have no idea if the Extinction Rebellion movement will achieve what other groups and movements have, so far, failed to achieve - i.e. persuading governments and media to have the guts to tell the truth about how bad things actually are.... but I agree 100% that mass civil disobedience is the only way now to get the attention of the media and politicians to (hopefully) make this happen.

If you don't know something is happening how the heck are you supposed to do something about it?

What I don't understand, is how humanity has reached the stage where what we are more concerned by what we are going to buy people for christmas, how our hair looks, or what's on tv tonight.... than we are about the state of our planet?

Seriously, we all need to take a long hard look at what REALLY matters, and act accordingly, because extinct is forever, and we are actually running out of time.

In case you follow my twitter or facebook pages and are wondering.... yes, I still believe that posting uplifting poetry, and beautiful images of landscapes, wildlife or whatever helps to reinforce our love of the natural world is a positive thing - after all, with all the horrors that are going on in the world we desperately need a little beauty in our lives. BUT... alongside appreciating those things we cherish and love, we urgently need to change our ways, individually and collectively, if we want to preserve that beauty. We cannot keep in living in cloud cuckoo land.

I offer my sincere and heartfelt thanks to all the people who are already taking direct action, especially those who are prepared to get arrested to raise awareness in the media of the seriousness of climate breakdown and mass extinction.

Not all of us can get to London to support this Saturday 17th November's upcoming 'Rebellion Day', but maybe you can help in other ways? I have thought long and hard about this, and my way is to continue talking about bee decline, pesticides and habitat loss, because that is what I do best. This is what I'll be doing on Saturday afternoon. Maybe you could have a think about what YOU do best, and either join the rebellion (actively, or in a supporting role) - or do something yourself at home that makes you more a part of the solution than a part of the problem.

Now I have a question for you.... especially for those who usually prefer not to know the full extent of something that might make them feel uncomfortable or frightened.

Q: If the government had been given compelling evidence that an invading army was about to descend on the UK - but we still had time to do something to stop this happening - would you want them to tell us? Or would you prefer to live in blissful ignorance till it happened... perhaps on the off chance that it may not actually happen? Or in the hope that someone else might do something to stop it before it became a real problem for us?

A: ???

The analogy, in case it is not obvious, is about the current situation with climate breakdown and the extinction of species. We are not being told the truth because politicians and media think we would find it 'unpalatable'. In short, it wouldn't get votes and it doesn't sell newspapers.

My default when I make a post like this is usually to 'apologise for the rant', but today I am not going to apologise.

With love and respect for the different views we all have on these issues 

Brigit x

No one deserves to walk alone

To anyone who is exasperated by the way elderly people are so often marginalised, ignored, not taken seriously, or simply not 'heard'......

HELP THEM FIGHT THEIR CORNER!!!

It's not easy to do this: you will feel like you are banging your head against a brick wall... ..that you are a pest; that the system is against you; that you have no right to challenge decisions made by (some) experts in their field; that you have made a mistake and the person you are fighting to protect/help doesn't really need protection/help; etc etc..

Then, suddenly, just when you are ready to give up, you discover someone in a position of authority, who has the clout to actually DO something, has listened to you and taken your concerns seriously... and good things begin to happen for the person you are speaking out for.

We are of no use to man nor beast if we just sit back moaning & complaining about something behind the scenes. We have to step out of our comfort zone if we want to see change or action. And stepping out of our comfort zone is worth it. From personal experience I know this to be true.

This doesn't only apply to the people you love. Have a look around your local community....there will be many elderly people without relatives to help them survive this ever changing life we live. Speak to them......ask them what they find difficult, and offer to help. It may be that they just can't work out how to get a doctor's appointment now that everything is computerised..... or it may be that they can't GET to the doctor's so don't even bother making an appointment. Whatever it is, you may be in a position to help. If you are, don't think twice. Just do something. Anything you do will be better than doing nothing

No one deserves to walk alone  

(unable to find a photo credit for black & white photo. Do please let me know if you know who the photographer is)

Brigit x

Gardeners Helping Pollinators

Over the past few years I have delivered many 'bee' talks to horticultural societies, but the talk I gave last night was different. Actually, it wasn't the talk itself that was different, but rather the reason this particular society had booked me.

I have found it usual when delivering talks to members of gardening groups, that mine will be one of a series of talks, given over the course of a year's programme, on a wide and often disparate range of subjects. Of course the talk content will have been chosen to appeal to people who enjoy gardening, but that's usually as far as it goes.

The reason last night's talk was different, is that it was the opening talk in a year during which Wellow Horticultural Society (based in the village of Wellow, near Bath) are focussing their entire 'talks and events' programme around bees... with a particular focus on bumblebees and solitary bees.

I found it SO inspiring to deliver my talk to such an engaged and interested audience of people working together as a group to help pollinators. I'm afraid I ran a little over time, choosing to expand in some cases on areas that I usually only touch on for a moment or two. However I did this in the sure knowledge that this particular group were listening not only for general interest or entertainment value (you may not know it, but learning about bees can be extremely entertaining!), but because I knew they were planning to use any information I imparted to actively help bees. 

Pollinators need our help, and by pollinators I don't just mean bees. Changes in habitat, together with increased use of pesticides, climate change, pests and diseases, and many other issues are also contributing to declines in butterflies and other pollinating animals. Those of us with gardens can make a big difference by planting more pollen and nectar rich plants, and creating (or conserving) suitable habitats for these creatures to nest and hibernate.

"Recent research indicates that private gardens in Britain cover an area bigger than all of the country’s nature reserves combined, estimated at over 10 million acres. Individual gardens may be small but they create important green links between urban nature reserves and the wider countryside, forming vital wildlife corridors. The potential of the country’s millions of gardens to help counteract some of the habitat losses that we have experienced in the last 50 years is enormous. Making your garden wildlife-friendly will help to ensure that the plants and animals that we value today will still be there for future generations to enjoy" - from Hampshire and Isle of Wright Wildlife Trust website.

Wellow Horticultural Society explain in their January newsletter  how they plan to support wild bees this year. Do PLEASE have a look... it's really worth a read and might give you some ideas for your own gardening clubs or societies.

"We want you to come to the events, but also get involved, doing things to support bees and other pollinators. While the honey bee is an excellent pollinator, we want to focus on wild bees – bumble bees and solitary bees. You do know the difference don’t you? No? – then come along to our events to find out!........."

Things I love.....

I love bees and trees. And leaf skeletons and seed heads. I also love butterflies, catkins, pussy willow, Puss moth caterpillars, woodlice, dragonflies and shield bugs; lemon verbena tea made with freshly picked leaves from the garden; hares; sunset, sunrise and sunshine; moonshine and starlight; old man's beard; watching solitary leaf cutter bees building their nests in my garden; and knowing that you are never too old to fall in love. Starling murmurations; wintersweet; grasses and beetles; and art. I love uploading my macro photographs when I come back from a walk and then pouring over my reference books in the hope that I might identify a new (to me) species. And I love the tawny owls who t'wit & t'woo outside our bedroom window at night. 

I love the weather. I love snow and can't wait for it to fall again so I can make snow angels. Fairy lights; my friends and my family; wild flowers (especially the rebels that grow between paving slabs); birds, bats, mice and toads; making nature mandalas; reference books illustrated with beautiful photographs and drawings; native hedgerows; Imbolc (Brigid/Brigit's Day) - and the fact that my mother named me 'Brigit' when I was born. And the Moomins…..oh how I love the Moomins.... Snufkin and Moominmamma and the Hattifatteners. And the Hemulen. It's impossible not to love the Hemulin.

I love mosses and lichens; music; speaking to folk about the beautiful world of wild bees; seaweed and sand; Hairy Footed Flower Bees (yes, such creatures exist) walking barefoot on the beach; rainbows, corkscrew hazel and unicorns. Raging rivers as they crash across rocks and boulders; streams so small that they are almost hidden by the undergrowth... and puddles. I especially love jumping in puddles. I love juicing apples and the fact that the juice changes colour when it meets the air.  Dorset, Cornwall, Norfolk, Northumberland, The Western Isles and all the other breathtakingly beautiful places that I have lived in or connected with; I especially love The Malvern Hills. Coastal paths; being a mother and being a grandmother; old man's beard; candlelight; moths, caterpillars and spider's webs; hazel nuts and fungi; the beautiful hand crafted things that people have gifted me; ginger flavoured dark chocolate truffles and adding chopped lemon to pretty much everything I cook. I love Puffins and Pufflings; the amazing noises that Eider ducks make and the shape of Curlews' beaks. And being kept awake at night on the Isle of Barra by Corncrakes. And feathers and crystals and everything that sparkles. And I LOVE rough haired lurchers. 

I love long-tailed tits and wrens; discovering bumblebee nests in unexpected places; the aliveness of water; the silence of stillness and clouds that look like dragons for a moment or two before they shift shape seamlessly into hippopotami; knowing that you are never too old to fall in love; loving and being loved back. Grass snakes and John Lewis-Stemple's Meadowland - a book so delightful I still haven't read the last chapter because I can't bear for it to end. I love Meadow Pippits, even though I have yet to meet one; sitting by the wood burner with a bowl of porridge on a cold winter morning; winter squashes; summer squashes; sowing seeds, saving seeds and swapping seeds; dandelion clocks; carving wooden spoons; greater stitchwort; nice surprises; meeting friends in cafes for a cup of tea; yoga; collecting sea glass and driftwood from the beach; bees; swimming in the sea; curly kale; sutherland kale; russian kale; black kale…….and SO much more!

And I love my children and my grandchildren, and my husband Rob, to the moon and back.

It feels good to make lists of the things you love and appreciate, every now and then, especially during these challenging times when it is all too easy to feel overwhelmed by all the doom and gloom. It reminds you how wonderful it is (and how lucky we are) to be alive. It fills you with the positive energy and inspiration to DO something to preserve all that is sacred to you.  

Wishing everyone who has read this post a beautiful day, evening, week and life…. and hoping you all enjoy making your own lists of things you love as much as I enjoy making mine! x

The Lost Words

The postman delivered something very beautiful today. A book. But not just any old book. This book just happens to be one of the most beautiful books I've ever seen. A 'keep forever' book.

The words in this magical book are themselves works of art. Inspired words, beautiful words, words with purpose that weave together other familiar but strangely endangered words; like Acorn, Conker and Otter.

The illustrations are breathtakingly beautiful; page after page of images you can't help tracing with your fingers, as though this will somehow imprint them in your mind... like a visual mantra you can summon up whenever you have need of 'beauty'. The otters are imprinted in my mind already. I can see them when I close my eyes.

The book is 'The Lost Words' - written by Robert Macfarlane and illustrated by Jackie Morris. It is for children of all ages - from 1 - 101

More about The Lost Words and the story behind the need for it to be written, here https://www.penguin.co.uk/articles/on-writing/cover-story/2017/jul/designing-the-lost-words/ 

Thank you Robert and Jackie for championing these words - and the creatures and plants they conjure up

Snail shell bees

Another little excerpt from my book.

 It’s raining. This means my planned excursion to Salisbury Plain to search for the snail shell bee Osmia spinulosa would most likely be quite fruitless, so I’ve decided to stay at home and write about her instead....

I first came across this little solitary bee a few years ago whilst living in West Malvern, Worcestershire. By that time I had begun to take photographs of pretty much anything ant-sized and upwards that visited my tiny patio garden on the side of the hill - and had already uploaded a few thousand images of two, four, six and eight legged creatures to a file on my lap-top titled ‘unidentified garden visitors’. Many of my garden visitors will remain forever unlabelled in that file, but when I enlarged the photograph I took of this particular bee, I could tell from her ‘jizz’ that she must be an Osmia species... and was quite excited when I realised she wasn’t one I already knew. She was certainly not one of my regular bee hotel nesters. 

As well as being excited by the possibility of adding a new bee to my garden tick list, I was also struck by the fact that my hitherto almost-non-existent ID skills had just notched up a level; i.e. I was able to place this bee into a ‘genus’ before going the BWARS (Bees, wasps & ants recording society) site rather than after hours of trawling through it searching for a visual match or posting my photograph on twitter to ask for help. I cannot tell you how empowering this felt.

Once I had decided she was an Osmia species, it was relatively easy to pin-point exactly which. Many of our solitary bee species are impossible to tell apart without a microscope, but this one had unusual blue/green/ eyes so I was able to identify her very quickly.

So, not only was this a new bee (for me) but I had also managed to identify her accurately and entirely by myself as O. spinulosa - the Spined Mason-bee. On their own, these two happenings were already worthy of celebration, but once I started to read about her nesting behaviour I could barely contain my excitement.  I’d been watching other Osmia species flying back and forth to my bee hotels carrying balls of mud or chewed up leaf mastic with their mouthparts - or with the undersides of their abdomens caked in bright yellow/orange pollen - and was already entranced by their nesting behaviour. But this bee doesn't lay her eggs in bee hotels, she lays them in old snail shells. A bee who makes her nest in snail shells… how exciting is that? And how in the world had I never come across her before?!

More about these, and other snail shell nesting bees in my book, but for anyone who has come to this blog searching for information about snail shell bees, please see Steven Falk's amazing flickr pages which are full of photographs and information....

Osmia spinulosa (Spined mason bee)
Osmia bicolor (Red tailed mason bee)

Osmia aurulenta (Gold-fringed mason bee)

B x

Of Snowdrops and Hairy-footed Flower Bees

Male Hairy-footed Flower Bee

It’s February 17^th and I’ve just seen my first Hairy-footed flower bee of the year. She’s foraging amongst the snowdrops in the gardens where my husband, Rob, works, and I can barely contain my excitement. I watch her darting from flower to flower, her proboscis extended as she sups the nectar provided by these earliest of blooms. I am enthralled. Her small black furry body emits the high-pitched buzz so typical of this species, that first alerted me to her presence in the flowerbed - and I am smitten, all over again, by this charming little bee.

I can’t believe I don’t have my camera with me! I have never before seen a Hairy-footed flower bee foraging on a snowdrop and would so love to have a photograph to accompany my record when I submit it to BWARS (Bees, Wasps, Ants Recording Society) later today. I wonder if mine will be the first sighting this year, or perhaps even the earliest sighting ever....?

The Hairy-footed flower bee’s scientific name ‘Anthophora plumipes’ (plumipes meaning ‘feather-footed’) sounds, to me, almost as beautiful as her common name, although the ‘plumipes’ part only really applies to the male of the species. The male’s middle legs are elongated and adorned with long feathery hairs, which he uses to transfer secretions from his abdominal glands to the female’s antennae whilst he mates with her. It looks like he’s covering her eyes with his legs whilst he does this.  I have no idea what might be the significance of this transfer of secretions during mating; it is but one of many mysteries I have yet to unravel in my on-going quest to understand more about the fascinating and beguiling world of bees. 

Unusual amongst our British bee species, male and female Hairy-footed Flower bees are quite different to each other in appearance, although both are fairly easy to recognise and identify in their own right, even for complete beginners.  Hairy-footed females are jet black all over, with bright yellow/orange pollen brushes on their hind legs, whilst males of the species are golden-brown in colour (fading to a paler colour as they spend more time in the sun) with pale yellow faces and, of course, very beautiful hairy legs.

Although Hairy-footed flower bees are solitary species, they are often mistakenly identified as bumblebees... and with their rotund body shape and complete covering of hair this is hardly surprising. However when they first emerge in early spring there should be less confusion, for the only bumblebees on the wing at that time of year are the enormous queens who have just emerged from hibernation.  Compared to these huge bumblebee queens, Hairy-footed flower bees are actually quite small. 

Colour, shape and size aside, the easiest way to recognise this bee - and to tell it apart from other bees - is undoubtedly by its behaviour. No other species of bee (apart from other related Flower bee species) behaves, forages or sounds quite like the Hairy-footed flower bee. Zipping back and forth from flower to flower, with such speed and purpose that you can barely keep your eye on them, and then hovering for a few seconds in the air like miniature humming birds as they probe for nectar and pollen with their long pointed proboscises; their behaviour really is most distinctive and almost un bee-like. Add to this their highly pitched ‘buzz’ and the male’s territorial tendencies, and there’s no mistaking a Hairy-footed flower bee when you meet one....

Female Hairy-footed Flower Bee

Bees: where to begin?

A few more passages from the opening chapter of the book I'm writing....






Bees. Where to begin….?

Given the enormity of our reliance upon bees as pollinators of human food crops, it beggars belief that we (by we, I mean you and I; not the scientists who study insects) know so little about them. Mention the word bee to most people, and images of bee hives, beekeepers and honey are the most likely things that will spring to their minds. However if I were to give the same people a sheet of paper and some coloured pencils and ask them to draw me a bee, most of them would draw something shaped a little like a rugby ball with striped yellow, white and black bands to which they might attach a head, six legs, two antennae and a pair (or two) of wings; something that looks, essentially, like a bumblebee.

So there is clearly a little confusion as to what, exactly, a bee is.

In actual fact, Planet Earth is home to at least 20,000 different species of bee. This is quite a staggering figure; one which surprises most people when they first hear it, especially if they have previously only been aware of the existence of honeybees and bumblebees.  Of all these different species, only 7 are honeybees, around 250 bumblebees and the rest are solitary bees. (N.B. of the so called 'solitary' bees, some groups actually have social structures. I have not yet fully understood the varying degrees of sociality amongst these groups; it's a complex subject and one I'm still trying to get my head around)

Bees are incredible in so many ways, that I will barely manage to scratch the surface of their existence in this book. My aim is simply to introduce you to certain aspects of their world; a world which, for the last decade or so, has filled me with ever increasing wonder and joy as I have immersed myself in watching, listening and tuning in to the bees (and other wild creatures) that I come across in my garden and on my travels around the UK. By sharing the knowledge I have gained, together with my observations, understandings and realisations, I hope to inspire you, too, to fall in love with these extraordinary little beings… or at least to see them in a different light and want to find out more about them.

Most of us are aware that bees are important pollinators, but far from being in awe of the fact that something so tiny is capable of achieving something so extraordinary i.e. pollination.... we tend instead to take this gift (or service as it is so sadly referred to these days by economists) very much for granted. I use the word ‘gift’ with consideration and awareness of the fact that a gift is usually something that has been given with intent to a recipient. As bees and other pollinators go about their daily business of foraging for pollen, their aim is of course to collect as much as possible to take back to their nest to feed, or provide for, the next generation of their species. Bees are no more setting out to ‘gift’ us their services than they are setting out to ‘pollinate’ the plants they visit, but the result, in my eyes, is one of the most wonderful gifts that nature bestows upon mankind, and one without which we simply would not survive.....

So, ‘Bees pollinate flowering plants’. This we know. But how exactly do they achieve this? How does a bee, newly emerged from its brood cell or cocoon, recognise that plants provide it with food, or which flowers contain the best sources of pollen and nectar? Which bees (or which other species of pollinating animal for that matter) pollinate which plants? How do they know which flowers have already been worked and which still contain rewards? How do they access the more complexly structured flowers? How do they extract pollen and nectar? How does the plant make sure that pollination actually takes place? How do bees carry pollen back to their nests? How do they find the same plant again? How do they communicate (do they communicate?) this information to other bees? How do they use the pollen……? So many hows?!

The Song of the Stream

Here are a few passages from the book I'm writing. The book is mostly about bees, but this little piece is about birdsong and the sound of water; written whilst I was staying away from home on a bee identification workshop. Work in progress...

Chapter 6: The song of the stream

Sunday 21st May 4.35am

I slept last night in a tiny little thatched cabin at the top of a garden somewhere in Oxfordshire. The cabin is nestled beneath mature trees in a semi-wild area of the garden and I have just woken to (or been woken by) the local dawn chorus. The room is warm so I step out of bed and open the door; now I can also hear the stream below as it makes its way through what I believe used to be a watercress bed.  It’s earlier than I’d like to be awake, but what a way to start the day.

Unlike the birds, the stream has not been to sleep, and it too has a song to sing. How can I describe the song of the stream? Simultaneously complex yet simple; 'of the moment' whilst also in continuous motion, it brings images to my mind of a never ending carnival procession. Depending on when, where and how you tune in, you either catch the full flow of its journey, or a little snap shot that can only be heard here, now, in this very spot where I am sitting. It is the song of a traveller. Does that make sense? I’m not sure, but know I want to explore this idea further.

I open the door wider. There is a lull in the birdsong now so I am better able to tune in to the stream. There must be some kind of fall because I can hear the sound of water cascading over rocks. It is so very soothing in its constancy; moving, perhaps dancing, with no sense of urgency. ‘Less haste, more speed.’ So reassuring. Almost meditative. I can tune in and out at will.

I wonder, if I were to record the sound for a few minutes now - and then again later - would I be able to tell the difference? Does it sound the same in the middle of the night as it does in the middle of the day? In the middle of winter as the middle of summer? Rainfall and wind speed and direction will surely make a difference; in the same way that an orchestra playing the same tune with fewer (or more) violins - or under different conductors - would sound different. The song of the stream is probably softened at this time of year by the leaves in the trees. I wonder how it would sound in mid-winter when the trees are bare.

I love the sound of living water and wish I could live forevermore in a place where I might go to sleep and wake up to this sound.

I'm listening to the birdsong again now and recognise it from yesterday morning. Same birds, singing in the same trees at the same time. But I don’t know who they are. I sing along with a few of them, trying to memorise the sequences and cadences in the hope I’ll be able to find and identify them on the RSPB website when I get back home this evening. I know what they’re ‘not’, which is at least a start. I can confidently say they are not chiffchaff or willow warbler, nor are they robin, blackbird, goldfinch, greenfinch, song thrush, sparrow or starling. Or cuckoo. My birdsong recognition skills are extremely basic, but I delight in those that I do know. I have a similar feeling, each time I recognise a bird by its song, to the feeling I experience when I overhear someone speaking in a foreign language and realise I understand what they’re saying. It’s the beginning of a connection. 

Of course the birds neither know nor care that I have recognised them, but I know it; and somehow, at that moment of knowing, I feel a great sense of belonging. It is this sense of belonging that I long for beyond all other longings, for it brings with it a sense of peace so deep and profound that I find I have no need of, or interest in, the trappings and distractions of everyday life....

Brigit x

P.S. The little cabin I've written about here was in the village of Ashbury in Oxfordshire. I found it on Airbnb and really enjoyed my short stay there. Thank you Joseph!

https://www.airbnb.co.uk/rooms/14643975

'Help... there's a swarm of bees in my bird box!'

I'm getting LOADS of messages and emails this week from people who have noticed 'Swarms of bees in bird boxes'..... also under the eaves of houses and other unexpected places.

These will be Tree bumblebees Bombus hypnorum.

Please don't call out the pest control people!!! The nest has already been there, possibly unnoticed, for at least a few months. The reason for the sudden increased activity is that this is the time of year bumblebee colonies produces new daughter queens. The local males (who have already left their own nests) become very excited and congregate outside the nests where new queens are about to emerge.... in the hope that they can mate with them.

The males dance frantically around the outside of the nest (which is very often in an old bird box, a hollow tree, or under the eves of a house) giving the appearance of a swarm.

Don't worry; this will not last long. It just means the colony has been successful and is now approaching the end of its life-cycle.

The new queens will soon leave the nest, mate, stock up on pollen and nectar, and go into hibernation till early next spring. The old queen, together with all the remaining workers and the males will not survive for longer than a few more weeks.  If you clean the box out over winter you are more likely to get birds nesting in it next year than bumblebees.

Tree  bumblebees are the ultimate opportunists. I have seen the nesting in old canons, tumble dryer outlets and letter boxes. I also watched a nest thrive last year in a muck spreader that a local farmer was still using to spread muck at least 3 times weekly. He got stung a couple of times whilst attaching it to his tractor, but took it on the chin (literally) and generously decided not to evict them

So, enjoy and celebrate the fact that you have provided a home for these bumblebees!

A final word of caution. The female guard bees are on high alert during this period and a little more defensive in their behaviour than usual, so stay away from the nest whilst the males are dancing outside.... and be aware that they seem to become especially defensive, and occasionally aggressive, if you use strimmers or lawnmowers nearby.

And please submit a record of your sighting here...  TREE BUMBLEBEE SIGHTINGS

Loads more excellent info about tree bumblebee nests (and how to move them if you really need to) here... Reigate Beekeepers 

Some very basic information about bees

Andrena cineraria (Ashy mining bee)

What's the first thing that springs to mind when you hear the word 'bee'? For many people the word conjures up images of beehives, honey, and people dressed in strange, white, masked outfits; i.e honeybee related images.

Yet, if I gave the same people a box of coloured pencils and asked them to draw me a bee, most would probably draw something black, yellow and white striped, shaped like a rugby ball, with a pair (or two) of wings, two antennae and six legs; basically something more akin to a bumblebee. So there is clearly a little confusion.

I thought it might help if I wrote down some very basic information, to help clear up some of this confusion. Of course there is much, much more to it than what I have written, but hopefully the following will help a little.

There are over 20,000 different species of bee in the world.

7 of these are honeybees.

250 are bumblebees
500 are 'stingless bees'

The rest are, more or less, solitary bees.

In the UK we have around 270 different species:

1 honeybee
24 bumblebees 
245+ solitary bees

NESTING BEHAVIOUR

Honeybees, bumblebees, and stingless bees are all 'social' bees - which means they live together in colonies comprising a queen, female workers, and males. They have a caste system, overlapping generations, and they communicate and co-operate with others in their colonies.

There are tens of thousands of worker bees in a honeybee colony, but only around 50 - 400 in an average bumblebee colony.

With social bees, all the 'worker bees' are female. The males are produced at specific times of the life-cycle for the sole purpose of mating.

                                                        

Solitary bees, on the other hand, do not have 'queens' or 'workers', nor (with one or two exceptions) do they share their nests with other solitary bees. This is why they are called 'solitary'. They do, however, often nest alongside each other. When you see lots of solitary bees nesting in the same area you are seeing an 'aggregation' not a 'colony'.

After mating, female solitary bees set about making their nests. They do this either by excavating tunnels in the ground (ground nesting) or using pre-existing cavities in walls, trees, etc (cavity nesting). Cavity nesting solitary bees are opportunists and will also nest in man-made cavities such as hose pipes, wind chimes, key-holes and teapot spouts! Some species specialise in empty snail shells. A few solitary bee species have become adept at burrowing into rotten wood or pithy plant stems.

Whatever the preferred nest site, each female provisions a number of individual cells with sufficient pollen for larvae to feed on when they hatch. She then lays an egg alongside each lump of pollen, seals each cell (and then the nest), and dies before her young complete their life cycles to become adult bees. These new adult bees remain in hibernation in their nests throughout autumn and winter... and emerge the following year in spring or summer to start their life cycle all over again.

                                                            

HONEY

Only honeybees (and stingless bees) make honey, which they make out of nectar collected from flowers. Honeybees turn nectar into honey to store over winter, so the colony has something to feed on whilst it's too cold to forage, or flowers are scarce.

Other bee species also collect nectar, but do not turn it into 'honey' as we know it. They just use it as an energy drink.

OVER WINTERING COLONIES

Unlike honeybee colonies, bumblebee colonies do not overwinter. Each bumblebee colony produces males and new daughter queens in the summer (at different times depending on the species). These new queens mate and then (mostly) go into hibernation till next spring. The old queen, together with all the female workers and the males, die before winter. That is the end of this nest. So, in a way, you could say honeybee colonies are 'perennials' and bumblebees colonies are 'annuals'.

N.B. Because of climate change, some bumblebee daughter queens now start new colonies before winter, instead of going into hibernation.

                                                             

POLLEN COLLECTING

As well as collecting nectar, bees also collect pollen, which they use to feed their young. Different species collect their pollen in different ways.....

Social bees (honeybees and bumblebees) collect it in pollen baskets on their hind legs. They pack the pollen into these baskets very neatly, so don't drop much off on their way home.

Solitary bees, however, collect pollen on stiff branched hairs, either under their abdomen (cavity nesting species) or on their legs (ground nesting species). It is not moistened or packed down, which means lots of this pollen drops off on the other flowers they visit as they make their way home. This makes them extremely good pollinators.

                                                               

STINGS
Only female bees have a sting. Male bees do not. If a honeybee worker stings you, she dies. If bumblebees sting (which they very rarely do) they will not die. This is because the honeybee sting is barbed, whereas the bumblebee sting is more like a needle. Apart from a few exceptions, solitary bee stings are mostly redundant and incapable of even piercing the human skin.

More on stings here -  Which bees sting and which bees don't? 

                                                                

The most important thing of all is that we provide food and habitat for ALL of these species. They all pollinate different plants, in different ways, at different times of the year, and in different habitats. DIVERSITY is the key. It is equally important that we provide for other pollinating insects like flies,  butterflies, moths, hoverflies, beetles, and wasps.

Photos below are of a honeybee, bumblebee, cavity nesting solitary bee and ground nesting bee.... showing the different ways they collect their pollen.

Apis mellifera (Honeybee)

Bombus terrestris (Buff-tailed bumblebee)

Megachile centuncularis (Patchwork leafcutter bee)

Halictus rubicundus (Orange-legged Furrow-bee)

If I Could Be A Dream

I wish I could be a 'dream'. If I could, I would visit our misguided leaders, policy makers and those who run the banks and multinational corporations, in their sleep. I would fill their troubled heads with images, sounds and smells of meadows and verges full of wild flowers, butterflies, crickets and bees; sunshine, rain and clouds; breezes and howling winds, muddy puddles, brooks, rivers, and oceans; dandelion clocks and daisy chains; ancient woodlands and wild forests; home made bread, cake and compost; children and people of all races creeds and colours playing together and holding hands; freshly picked runner beans and tomatoes that have been grown outside and pollinated by local native bumblebees; healthy soil; arts and artists; rainbow coloured mosses and pale green lichen; song birds and slow worms; and lots and lots of glow worms; mountain tops and mole hills; Sunday afternoon walks and family get togethers from the days before shops were open every day of the week and Sundays truly were a day of rest; people playing music in local parks without a licence; pine martins, beavers, wolves and otters; open doors; raindrops caught in spiders webs; kindness; full moons and starlit skies; the feel of walking bare foot on wet grass; laughter; abundance for everyone; bridges and open arms; the sound of curlews on the Yorkshire moors; deliciously crisp but misshapen apples; fresh, unpolluted air and fresh, unpolluted (free) water; hedgerows brimming with life; more bees, butterflies, moths and crickets; and with so many more good, healthy, natural, magical, enchanting and beautiful things….. that they would not be able to resist falling head-over-heels in love with this amazing planet we live on. Then, they would wake up (in more than just one sense) and instead of their minds being full of fear, greed, hate and noise.... they would be full of love, peace, joy and stillness. They would abandon their destructive elitist policies, decisions, rules and regulations to reflect their new found 'earth, people and wildlife friendly' views.

This dream would be my gift to ALL those who have lost touch with the natural world. 

Wishing and hoping that peace, love, light and good old fashioned common sense will prevail

xxx

A very simple way to help wildlife...

Spoon billed sandpiper. 200 breeding pairs left in the world

Wildlife documentaries are being viewed and talked about by more people than ever before. We love them.

We love wildlife!

Yet this same wildlife that we love to watch and learn about on TVs or other devices is suffering unprecedented declines. We watch, in awe of the magnificent and diverse creatures we share this planet with, then we go shopping and buy food and products that contribute directly to their decline.

I could write a list of all the things we buy that cause damage, directly and indirectly, to the planet's ecosystems (and to human beings less fortunate than ourselves) but I'd be here all day. Things that contain palm oil, are wrapped in plastic, or have been grown using pesticides spring to mind to start with.

The bottom line is that we have the intelligence and the technical backup to search for information.... and we have the freedom of choice to make decisions and changes. If we all made a few changes and spent the money we have in our pockets in a more wildlife/human friendly way we would collectively make a difference.

Planting more flowers for pollinators, leaving wild areas in our gardens for wildlife, signing petitions, planting trees etc are all vitally important, but if we don't simultaneously look at what we buy and where/how we spend our money, then this is all for nothing.

Children get this when it is explained to them. Adults should too.

I know it is not easy to make changes and that the more ethical and environmentally sound choices are often more expensive. But that doesn't men we shouldn't at least try.

Do please watch the beautiful and powerful series China: Between Clouds and Dreams - it says it all!

x

Non-native invasive species. Friends or foe?

I've been thinking a great deal over the last few years about 'non-native invasive species' and wondering whether some might actually be more 'friend' than 'foe'.

Species like the Asian hornet are clearly a great threat to diversity because if they establish a foothold in the UK, they have the potential to wreak havoc on our bee population which, as well as being a concern in its own right, will of course have a knock on effect on the plants our native bees currently pollinate and the eco systems these plants support.

But what about other recent arrivals? What about Ivy bees and Tree bumblebees? Unlike the Asian hornet these species are not 'predators' nor have they arrived via human agency. But could they be competing with our existing population of bees (and other insects) for foraging and habitat? Do we know yet if this is the case? Does it matter? If not, why not? Maybe these and other new species arriving from Northern Europe will prove better equipped to deal with an ever changing landscape and climate that our existing bee species might struggle with in the future. 

And then there's Himalayan balsam. This plant is vilified by most, but having established itself is now providing much needed late season nectar and pollen for our native pollinators. Maybe, in time, it will turn out to have other benefits that we don't yet know about? Perhaps it will be better able to cope with climate change, rising temperatures and flooding than some of our native plants? And what would be the consequences to the eco systems it now helps to support if we were to pull it all up and completely eliminate it? I don't know the answers to these questions, but can't help wondering.

Food for thought.... and as an aside, I think we would do well to remember that we, the human race, cause more damage to biodiversity than all the invasive plants put together. When human beings talk about 'invasive species', the expression 'pots and kettles' springs to mind.

Against this backdrop of our (innate?) fear of non native invasive species taking over our countryside, is the current trend for more and more people to keep honeybees in towns and cities. I find myself unable to reconcile the fear of the former with the acceptance and encouragement of the latter.  Do those who set up new hives plant more pollen and nectar rich plants to help sustain their increasing honeybee populations? If not, and if natural resources are limited, do these hives then need to be routinely fed on sugar water over winter? And how do native bumblebees, solitary bees and other pollinators cope when tens of thousands of extra (managed) honeybees are suddenly introduced to an area where the existing floral resources are already depleted?

I ask these last questions (about bees) because where I live in Shaftesbury, North Dorset, I have seen a huge increase in the number of honeybee hive being kept by local beekeepers over the last couple of years. Where these colonies are at their most dense I am now noticing that bumblebees are conspicuous by their absence on sedum and other plants popular with the honeybees, whereas further out of Shaftesbury, in surrounding villages where there are not so many beehives, the sedum, at least, is covered in bumblebees and butterflies in the autumn. 

So many questions, but not many answers.  On balance, I have to say I am no longer sure what to think, per se, about non-native invasive species.... especially when I am noticing, first hand, our native wild bees being outcompeted on some flowering plants by the increase in popularity for keeping honeybees.

If you are interested in exploring these questions further, you might like to read The New Wild by Fred Pearce. A very thought provoking book!

Also, check out this post on Biff Vernon's Blogspot.

With many thanks to twitter friend @dolly_and_dj for allowing me to use her beautiful photograph x

P.S. I should add (in case it appears that I am picking on beekeepers) that my partner and I have a few hives ourselves and are fortunate enough to be able to keep our bees out of town in an area where there are very few other beekeepers.