Cast of Characters

Every year flowers bloom in succession and, with them, a predictable cast of characters shows up routinely. Three plants, in particular, call your attention for the numerous repeat patrons to these restaurants and their nectar: common milkweed, mountain mint and goldenrod. Or you may regard the visitors as actors hired to play roles in these theaters. The truth is that every year the theaters have to hire the descendants of previous visitors. The original ones are long gone. Here are some of the representatives of the mountain mint crowd, each photo accompanied by a great-grandchild or great-great-grandchild repeating their roles:

Great golden digger wasp and grandchild (2004 and 2006)

Red banded hair streak butterfly and great- great- great-... well, let us say that at least six generations have elapsed between one and the other (2006 and 2012). It looks like both pictures were taken the same day.

Macrosiagon limbata wedge shaped beetle and his great-granddaughter (2004 and 2007)

Not a very nice fellow. It lays its eggs on the flowers and the little larvae hitches a ride from a passing bee. Then they feed on the bee's stored food and on the bee baby. The adults are so short lived that you don't see them visiting earlier or later blooming flowers.

The wasp and the butterfly also play in many other theaters through the seasons. The beetle, on the other hand, is most often seen on this plant.

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Beginners Guide to Pollinators and Other Flower Visitors

© Beatriz Moisset. 2012

Symmetry

I am looking at a picture I took several years ago of a bee visiting a sunflower. The head and front part of her body are metallic green. The last part, the abdomen, is striped black and white. A very striking little bee, a jewel contrasting with the golden yellow of the flower. She carries two enormous baskets loaded with pollen on her hind legs. These ingenious organs resembling grocery baskets are made of abundant longish feathery hairs that hold the loose pollen grains. She keeps working the little florets at the center of the flower in search of additional pollen and some nectar to carry home for her children. These bees can be quite abundant in suburban gardens but often go unnoticed by human visitors; their role in the garden remains mysterious and irrelevant to the gardener, no matter how conscientious he or she is about the needs of the plants. These bees are so unknown to most of us that they haven’t even earned a common name. Scientists refer to them by the intimidating name of Agapostemon virescens. I wish I could tell you what Agapostemon means; all I can say is that virescens refers to their green color.

I notice in my collection another picture of a bee on a sunflower. It looks like a mirror image of the first; same colors, same posture, same heavy load of pollen. Except that this picture was taken four years later. It isn’t the same bee, not even a sister; more likely it is the great-great-granddaughter of the first. I delight on the symmetry of these far removed generations. Life goes on in the wildflower patch. I wonder if the flower is also the great-great-grandchild of the first one. It is possible. Symmetry of a different dimension: the flower nourishing the bee and her brood so she can carry on year after year and the bee ensuring that the plant can make seeds and reproduce. Two distinct threads of life intertwined for eons.


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© Beatriz Moisset. 2011