Don't Underestimate the Native Pollinators

Honey bee and several native bees on flowers of fruit trees

© Beatriz Moisset

 The concern for honey bees has exploded in recent years. A day doesn't go by without a new article on the media or comments on numerous nature blogs. Some are agonized cries of help with words such as: Save the bees to save our food supply! Honey bees are going extinct, we are next! Almost completely lost in the shuffle are native pollinators, namely the 4,000 species of bees in the US.

Most of the public is unaware that native pollinators could supply a substantial amount of crop pollination. In many instances one or another native bee or an entire cadre of them results in more efficient pollination than that of honey bees. Here are a few examples:

In an apple orchard, 250 orchard mason bees can do as much as 15,000 to 20,000 honey bees. Squash bees are early risers and are likely to do more pollination of pumpkins and squash than the late arrivals—honey bees and bumble bees. The Southeastern blueberry bee, Habropoda laboriosa, is capable of pollinating $20 worth of blueberries in her lifetime. Many native bees work in wetter or colder weather than honey bees. The alkali bee and the non-native alfalfa leaf cutter bee pollinate a higher percentage of visited flowers than honey bees do. Some small orchards and vegetable fields get most of their pollination done by native bees.

Many native bees practice buzz pollination,

needed by tomatoes and other crops

© Beatriz Moisset

All and all according to some studies, native bees provide $3 billion worth of pollination to agriculture, while honey bees' contribution is valued at $15-18 billion. If we put native bees to work, we could reverse these proportions. Perhaps the best way out of the so-called honey bee crisis is to find the way to take better advantage of the other bees. How difficult would that be?

A hundred years ago native bees played an important role on crop pollination. As far back as seventy or eighty years, several authors noticed that bumble bee and solitary bee populations were dropping. This loss was most noticeable in larger farms where sometimes fruit or vegetable yield suffered by the absence of pollinators. Nobody seemed terribly concerned as long as the honey bee could be brought into service. Some observers knew that native bees were more efficient in many cases, but felt that the ease with which honey bees can be managed compensated for this drawback.

Some native bees are just as efficient as honey bees

at pollinating fruit trees

© Beatriz Moisset

Intensive farming grew as did the need for pesticides, and beehives started to be transported long distances and in large numbers to do their duty. It was the birth of the pollination industry involving beekeeping practices far removed from what would be considered natural. It shouldn't surprise us that such an unsustainable system is causing troubles for honey bees.

Can we bring native pollinators back after they continued to lose ground for the past century? Are there enough left around to take over the task of pollinating our crops? Even without statistics, we can be sure that only a tiny fraction of the previous populations remains. Perhaps, some species are precariously hanging on the verge of extinction or have already disappeared.

Dead solitary bee © Beatriz Moisset

No species takes the road to extinction willingly. Every creature, large or small, fights tooth and nail, or mandible and tarsal claw as the case may be, to stay alive and procreate. A few years ago, an entomologist found a miner bee's nest in a flower pot in his backyard. Another bee expert encountered a rare species of bee, regarded close to extinction, in the very heart of Washington DC, in a butterfly garden at the Washington Mall. With remarkable tenacity, these little survivors had managed to find just enough resources and shelter to raise their families in the middle of the concrete jungle.

We should not give up hope. Native pollinator populations can be brought back to the levels of yesteryear; perhaps then they can resume pollinating the crops that feed us.

Pollinators. © Beatriz Moisset.

Update, April, 2014. I followed some published reports when I said "native bees provide $3 billion worth of pollination to agriculture, while honey bees' contribution is valued at $15-18 billion." However this may be shortchanging native pollinators. Perhaps they do a lot more. A publication by Claire Kremen states that in California  native pollinators are responsible for $2.4 billions and honey bees for $3.9 billions. In other words, in that state native pollinators are responsible for almost 40% of all agricultural pollination. I will keep searching the truth.


List of articles

One Bite our of Three

Will We all Die if Honey Bees Disappear?

Bring Back the Native Pollinators! We need them more than Ever

Wild pollinators worth up to $2.4billion to farmers, study finds

Reversing threats to native pollinatorcommunities and services

Beginners Guide to Pollinators and Other Flower Visitors

© Beatriz Moisset. 2014 

Official State Insects

Honey bee. © Beatriz Moisset

Did you know that most states have an official insect? Probably not. You may have heard of state birds and state flowers, or even state butterflies. But, who would have thought of state insects! Actually most states have an official insect, or, at least an official butterfly. Some even have both. Just for fun, try to imagine which insect you would select to represent your state. Take a few minutes before reading further or checking this complete list. Think harder; are you drawing a blank? I will tell you later my choice for the state of Pennsylvania.

If you picked the honey bee, you are in the majority. Seventeen states made the same decision, not a very imaginative one. That is almost half of all states with an official insect. Tennessee, not satisfied with two state insects, the firefly and the ladybug, added the honey bee as its official agricultural insect. Kentucky did the same.

The notion that the honey bee could represent a state surprises me because it isn't a native insect. Europeans introduced it to this continent in the 1600s. It is an agricultural species, not a member of the local wildlife. Tennessee and Kentucky seem to be the only ones that got it right when making it their official agricultural insect. It shouldn't be so hard to find a useful native insect to represent each state considering that there are thousands of them.

Monarch butterfly © Beatriz Moisset

Seven states have chosen the monarch butterfly; not surprising considering that the monarch is so well known and loved. Actually three of those states (Minnesota, Vermont and West Virginia) picked the monarch as their state butterfly, in addition to their official insect. I wonder which is truly well known: the butterfly itself or just its iconic image. Most people can't tell a monarch from one of its look-alikes, the queen, the soldier, or the viceroy butterflies. In fact, many see a fritillary and think it is a monarch despite clear differences in pattern and size. Kudos to Kentucky whose official butterfly is the Viceroy! They really know their insects.

Where this list of official state insects gets amusing is when the "insect" in question refers to dozens or even hundreds of related species. The ladybug has been selected by six states ignoring the fact that ladybugs, better called lady beetles, include around 500 species, not all charming or beneficial. Did you know that a few species eat plants, rather than insect pests? They are pests themselves, like the Mexican bean beetle and the alfalfa beetle. Also, did you know that a couple of dozens were introduced from other lands? North Dakota deserves congratulations for choosing the convergent lady beetle. They, too, know their insects.

Convergent lady beetle © Beatriz Moisset

In addition to North Dakota and Kentucky, a few other states show their knowledge of insects, for instance, Maryland with the Baltimore Checkerspot Butterfly (Euphydryas phaeton). This handsome creature well deserves its name because of its checkerboard pattern. South Carolina chose the Carolina mantis, another brilliant choice.

Carolina mantis. © Kaldari. Wikicommons

I promised to tell you my preference for the state of Pennsylvania. The state insect is the firefly, not bad; but with 150 species of fireflies, later on it was narrowed down to the species Pennsylvania Photuris (Photuris pensylvanica). Did you know that some fireflies are diurnal and have no light?

Ellychnia corrusca, winter firefly, diurnal or active during the day. © Beatriz Moisset

I would choose a beautiful little metallic green bee. It is small and goes easily unnoticed to the point that it doesn't even have a common name. Its scientific name, Augochlora pura, means "magnificent pure green bee." The public may not know about this little beauty, but it can be quite common. Mountain mint flowers can act as magnets for this hard-working pollen gatherer. Recently I saw as many as a hundred bees on each bush of mountain mint in a garden with more than a dozen such plants.

The magnificent pure green bee. © Beatriz Moisset

Would you have any suggestions for the official insect of your own state?

List of articles

Beginners Guide to Pollinators and Other Flower Visitors

© Beatriz Moisset. 2013

One Bite out of Three

Megachilid or mason bee, often used to pollinate fruit trees.

© Beatriz Moisset

We frequently hear that "one bite out of three comes to you courtesy of pollinators." Other times we hear it expressed as "one bite out of three comes to you courtesy of bees," implying that the bees in question are honey bees. Where did these statements originate? How well documented are they? It all sounds plausible but I hesitate to cite numbers without certainty when I give presentations about pollinators.

Fortunately a group at the University of California at Berkeley decided to get to the bottom of it. I am happy to tell you that they found the first statement to be fundamentally accurate.

Claire Kremen, one of the coauthors of the study and member of the Committee on Status of Pollinators, summarizes the results of their 2006 study as follows: "Out of the 115 crops studied, 87 depend to some degree upon animal pollination, accounting for one-third of crop production globally."

Now, I can relax and go on telling my audiences that pollinators are responsible for one third of our food. I can also face the second claim, "one bite out of three comes to you courtesy of bees." This claim originates from the confusion between pollinators, bees in general and honey bees, and it is not accurate. Some information is in order.

Augochlora pura bees.

© Beatriz Moisset

Honey bees are the most important pollinators of agricultural crops. They excel at pollinating a number of fruit trees such as apples, pears, peaches and almonds. But they are not alone in this task. We owe a lot to all the other carriers of pollen, 20,000 species of bees (4,000 in North America alone) and an assortment of wasps, moths, flies and even bats.

Anthophorini bee. It pollinates several crops.

© Beatriz Moisset

Let us look at crops pollinated mostly or entirely by non-honey-bee pollinators. Alfalfa is the most important one that comes to mind. No, we don't eat alfalfa but cows, sheep, goats and even chickens do. Without alfalfa these animals would be severely malnourished; they may not even survive. Most alfalfa growers use the services of bumble bees, alkali bees and alfalfa bees or a combination of the above plus a few other bees. These insects are well adapted to the structure of alfalfa flowers and handle them efficiently. Honey bees, on the other hand, are not fond of these blossoms and do a poor job. It may take several honey bees to do the job of one alfalfa bee; but they make up in numbers what they lack in finesse. This is why they are used in large alfalfa fields where there is no habitat left for other bees, particularly in California.

When New Zealand ranchers started raising cattle, they also needed to grow clover for cattle feed. They had to purchase seed from abroad every year because the plants failed to set seed for lack of pollinators. European bumble bees were imported to do the job, and in fact they promptly took care of the problem. Notice that it was bumble bees rather than honey bees which were counted for this mission.

Bumble bee buzz-pollinating azalea. © Beatriz Moisset
See video

The flowers of tomatoes, eggplants, peppers and other members of the potato family require special handling by the pollinator, a process called buzz pollination. Bumble bees and other native bees do this efficiently. Honey bees cannot, do not perform this maneuver. For a brief explanation of buzz pollination see: Buzz Pollination by Sue Rosenthal.

Blueberries and cranberries are mostly buzz pollinated. Unfortunately, large fields of these crops provide no habitat for the native bees and bumble bees which are most adept at this task. Under these circumstances, honey bees are used as pollinators despite their poor performance.

Yucca moth, a highly specialized pollinator. © Beatriz Moisset

Figs are pollinated by fig wasps, yucca by yucca moths, and mangoes by bats. A few other specialty crops use the services of specialized insects. Several species of flies are used to pollinate some crops such as onions and cabbage. Honey bees, or even other bees are not involved here, either.

In summary, we must remember to give credit to all pollinators. Let us thank them all. My favorite one is not a honey bee, not even a bee. It is the little fly, or midge, that pollinates the cacao flowers. What would the world be without chocolate?

Importance of pollinators in changing landscapes for world crops

List of Articles 
Also, see Bees and Vitamins. The importance of pollinators goes beyond the "one bite out of three" to our basic nutrition needs.
Update to pollinators and vitamins: Contribution of Nutrients by Pollinators
One Bite out of Three and Wildlife
One Bite out of Three before Columbus

Beginners Guide to Pollinators and Other Flower Visitor

© Beatriz Moisset. 2013
 

A Night in the Life of a Working Mother

It is spring but you wouldn’t know it judging by the temperature. Here in such northern latitudes, Ellesmere Island to be more precise, winters are long and brutal; spring and summer last no longer than a sigh. So, this morning the air is crisp, and I would call it bitter, as I am not used to this weather. The frost covered grass crunches under your foot with each step you take. However, there are flowers all around. A carpet of small flowers is growing hastily so that the plants can complete their cycle before winter arrives. But, why are there so many flowers? Who visits them and pollinates them? Certainly not honeybees. They can’t endure this climate. Bumblebees! that is who. They are hardy and well prepared for such harsh climate.

Let us look at one in particular, Ms. Bombus, a plump and fuzzy little lady that has been very busy for the past few weeks. She has found an abandoned vole’s nest; has redecorated it inside making it suitable for her coming family. She has prepared several enormous wax pots full of nectar or pollen. They are enormous compared to her size; to us they are nothing but thimblefuls. Then she has laid six little eggs that, by now, have turned into squirmy, hungry babies that she feeds several times a day, alternating with trips in search of more food.

Tonight, she is very concerned. She doesn’t need to watch the weather report on television in order to know that a cold snap is coming, colder than usual, that is. Bumblebees that live in other regions can wait to start a family until the weather is balmier but she doesn’t have that luxury. The growing season is too short so she had to speed things up despite the risk involved. The coming cold could kill her precious babies.

Fortunately she is well prepared to take care of them. She is covered with a thick and fluffy fur all over most of her body. On her belly she has a bare patch that reminds us of the brooding patch that many birds have when they are raising a family. So, just like a mother bird she lays spread eagled on top of her brood and thanks to her thick fur coat she is able to keep them warm for a while. Soon this is not enough because the temperature keeps dropping, so she begins to vibrate her strongest muscles, the flying muscles of her chest. This time she isn’t flying, just generating heat that is transmitted to the babies beneath her. She keeps shivering this way hour after hour, as long as needed. This effort uses up lots of energy and makes her very hungry. With great foresight she had placed her nursery and herself just on front of one of the wax pots brimming with honey, an excellent fuel, and she periodically drinks from it.

The night goes on, grueling and relentless, until finally the sun begins to shine and to warm up the fields. Only then can Ms. Bombus relax and rest, still covering her precious family a little longer. Later on, when it is warm enough, she moves away from the babies and with one final tender look at her wiggly and happy gang she heads for the front door. Bleary eyed and sore muscled, she faces her day job, a full day of gathering badly needed provisions for her brood and for herself.

Bumble bee life cycle

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© Beatriz Moisset. 2012

For the Love of Flowers

Andrena, the bee, was sleeping her long slumber, comfortably inside her underground refuge, when something began to arouse her. She had been born the previous spring inside this cozy underground cell and she had grown well nourished by the mixture of flower’s nectar and pollen that her provident mother had stored. Later on, like the sleeping beauty, she had fallen into a deep trance for many months. But now it was spring and the soil was beginning to warm up. Did the warmth wake her up? Or was it some mysterious internal calendar? Suddenly that cozy cell that had been her nursery, her castle, her realm, her whole universe through the hot months of summer and cold ones of winter had become an intolerable prison. She had to get out.


Moved by this urge she began digging her way out. Her legs, never used before, were powerful enough to start loosening the earth that blocked her way to the outside world. With an unerring sense she moved toward the surface, perhaps following some ancestral memory of that world.

The task was arduous but she was young and strong and determined to find her way. It took her several hours and when her head finally emerged at the surface all her senses were bombarded by an accumulation of new sensations: light, colors, smells . . . She tried her wings for the first time and suddenly she found herself airborne. She marveled at her capacity for flying, zigzagging, rising and falling, making sudden turns. The surrounding world, immense and full of sunshine and strange sights, and her just discovered faculties were intoxicating. She kept coming and going taking notice of this unfamiliar land of her birth and its landmarks. She didn’t seem to get tired; there was so much to see. A hungry bird tried to catch her and missed, not because of her skill, but by sheer luck. She would learn to be cautious later on.

That morning she learned that she belonged to a small village of bees that, like her, were emerging from their prolonged sleep and getting drunk on light and air and new experiences. Their wings reflected the rays of the sun. Sometimes, if you walk on a meadow at the right time, you can see them against the sky like constantly moving dots of light.

A dogwood blossom makes a convenient waiting room for a group of boy bees spending the night together in wait for the girls

There were some males among them; some had emerged the previous day and now, past their first exhilaration they were moved by another urge that kept getting stronger by the minute. The scent of the females acted like a magnet and several, full of eagerness, approached and surrounded our little bee. She resisted their advances, not for lack of desire, which she was beginning to discover, but because she wanted only the best suitor. That would be her legacy to her children: the best father that she could find. One male prevailed over the others and joined with her. Now, in delirious ecstasy, both of them, linked by love, rose in the air and flew to a nearby branch where they could enjoy their time together in seclusion.

After their romance and carrying inside herself the sperm of the male, Andrena became all mother. Only one motivation would dictate her actions from now on: to ensure the best for her future children. She was passing on her mother’s heritage even though she would never know neither her mother nor her children.

She started the search for a nest site. What better place than the one her mother had chosen the previous year? It was a patch of soil, warm and with plenty of sunshine, safe from floods and not chocked by vegetation. She landed and started walking in circles looking for the best spot, but somebody else, perhaps her own sister, had already started setting housekeeping there. An angry buzz let her known that she was not welcome nearby. No problem, there were several similar spots not far from this one and she had no trouble finding a good one.

Andrena began digging the hard soil, just like her mother had done a year ago. It was harder than digging up from her cell; the soil was compacted and she had to use all the energy of her young jaws and legs. She kept working full of determination until she realized that she was getting hungry and thirsty.

She flew away from her nest searching for food. A delicious aroma told her that she had found what she was looking for. There were many flowers in the meadow, she landed on an open blossom, found its nectar guided by the scent and drank it thirstily. Andrena went from flower to flower until satiated, then returned to her task.

Back to work she went digging deeper and deeper. Evening came and she needed to rest. What better place than the tunnel she had dug? It was safe there and protected from the night chill. Andrena slept comfortably. The next morning, when her muscles were warm enough, Andrena resumed her work until something told her that she had arrived at the right place; then she started digging a side cavity, this one was a chamber like the one that had sheltered her through her infancy and long sleep.

A mother Andrena gathering food for her babies; her feathery legs make good baskets for the pollen

Now she needed to prepare the chamber for her offspring. That meant many trips to the meadow full of flowers. There she loaded rich pollen in the baskets on her legs and nectar, which she carried in her crop. It took her many trips to have enough for her purpose and another day passed by. She kneaded the pollen and nectar into a thick paste and made it into a tidy ball that nearly filled the whole cell. Satisfied, Andrena laid an egg on top of this loaf and sealed the chamber with some soil

Once again she kept digging another branch of the tunnel, making a new chamber, gathering food, laying a new egg and so on. The days flew by. Sometimes she couldn’t go to work because the weather was foul so she hunkered down, feeling safe in the darkness of her tunnel. One day our little bee escaped a sudden death without knowing it. When she approached a blossom she noticed something different but didn’t give it much importance. Fortunately for her, another bee beat her to this flower. Somewhat annoyed Andrena flew to another one without noticing that a crab spider had caught the other bee in her clutches and paralyzed her with her poison.

All that coming and going wore out her thin wings. They began to fray at the edges and so the day came when, after gathering her usual load of supplies in the meadow, she tried to take off but the extra weight and her aging body and worn out wings prevented her from doing so. She tried again and again but the wind kept slamming her against the ground. So finally, with a sigh and without regrets she surrendered to her fate, knowing that her mission was complete, the new generation was well provided and would repeat the story next spring.

Thus ended one little life made of flowers and sunshine, of dark tunnels and security.

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© Beatriz Moisset. 2010

The pure magnificent green bee

A female Augochlora pura gathering pollen on her leg baskets

Among the many metallic green bees that you see in the summer there is a particularly beautiful one, Augochlora pura. It doesn't have a common name but its scientific one means "pure magnificent green" and it is a very fitting one.

You may have seen this little jewel diligently visiting flowers to gather food for her family. You would be surprised to find out where she takes her load of pollen and nectar. If you could follow her, which isn't easy, you would see her arrive at an old fallen log and disappear inside a crack of the loose bark. That is where she has started building a home for her babies, in the space between the bark and the log. She builds chambers using her own saliva, some wax from her abdominal glands and loose debris, abundant in such places. Later on, she kneads the cargo that she brings from flowers into tiny loaves that look like golden tiles with which she paves the inside walls of the chamber. When there is enough food to feed one baby all the way to adulthood she deposits just one egg and seals the cell; afterward she starts building another one and so on.

A dead log, home to a few metallic green bees

An unhappy mother whose nest has been disturbed when I lifted a chunk of bark. You can see the ripped open cell, where the larva lays surrounded by a nice supply of "bee loaves" made of pollen and nectar

The babies grow on such rich food and emerge in the fall. By then the mother is approaching the end, her wings are torn and frazzled. The bees of the new generation, on the other hand, have a youthful look, with glossy wings and nicely coated by delicate hairs; these are the ones you are likely to see in October and November.

Young females getting ready to hibernate in late fall, November

The young bees mate promptly. This is the end of it for the males who die shortly afterward. But the recently mated females visit some of the abundant fall flowers stocking up on food to see them through the long winter and get busy finding cracks under wood to spend the cold month in safety. By the end of November you are not likely to see any more activity from these handsome bees; but rest assured that they will emerge from their seclusion next spring when the sun warms up the land and when blooms are ready and waiting for them.


 
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© Beatriz Moisset. 2010

Of Bees and Honey. What is Honey for?

Solitary bee, halictid or sweat bee, gathering food for her babies

In the beginning there were wasps, no bees at all. Wasps trapped bugs and used them to feed their babies, who grew strong and healthy in that rich protein diet. Many adult wasps also visited flowers and fed on nectar, a rich fuel that gave them enough energy to do all that flying needed to hunt their prey.

Once upon a time, some wasps discovered that the pollen they had accidentally picked up and carried back home on their bodies turned out to be just as nutritious as their prey. So they switched to pollen and gave up chasing after bugs. One advantage of pollen is that it doesn’t run away or fight back.

They became hairier and developed baskets to pick up and carry pollen home, thus a new creature was born, different enough from wasps to belong in a different category: a vegetarian wasp, the mother of all bees. Notice that I haven't mentioned honey yet. That came later. In those days all bees were solitary and short lived. The adults usually died at the end of the summer season. Only the next generation lived through the winter, feeding on its pollen reserves and sleeping quietly in a safe and secluded place, perhaps wrapped into some sort of cocoon.

Honey bee collecting pollen and nectar for the colony or hive, to feed her sisters and queen and store reserves for the winter

Finally some bees developed societies that lasted several years and had queens and workers and drones, all living together in a large colony. In order to survive the winter they needed to store supplies, mostly nectar (to keep burning fuel through the winter and stay warm) and also some pollen. But the nectar straight from the flower is very watery and would use too much space, so they developed techniques to get rid of most of the water. They spit the nectar out in a big bubble and swallow it back again and again until it becomes concentrated through evaporation until it can be stored in cells. In the process they also add some preservatives and fungicides to increase the shelf life of this precious commodity. Yes, that is what honey is; maybe you lost your appetite for it. But, wait, it gets worse, sometimes when there is a shortage of nectar, bees collect secretions from aphids, you may call it aphid poop, and use it to make honey.

Only social bees make any significant amount of honey. The stored supplies sustain them through the winter, when there is no other food available. The domestic bee and a few relatives from Asia belong to the social category as do several kinds of stingless bees from Central America and tropical South America. Bumblebees are also social, although they never build colonies as large as those of honey bees. They live for a few months and make some honey but not much. They store their golden treasure in little clay pots in their underground nests. Local people don't hesitate to eat this honey when they find it.

Interestingly, several types of wasps from Central and South America form colonies or hives that last longer than a year. They also make honey, but this is very unusual for a wasp. Their paper nests resemble those of hornets and the honey is hard to remove from the combs. You just pop up a piece of wasp nest in your mouth and chew until all the honey is gone. Then you spit up the wad of paper. I know it; I have done it. The honey is delicious and worth the minor paper-chewing inconvenience.

Oh, yes! Some ants make honey and have a very peculiar way of storing it. Some members of the colony, called "repletes," eat enormous amounts of honey, fed to them by their sisters, until their bellies are perhaps ten times larger than normal. They hang from the ceilings of store chambers inside the anthill and serve as "honey pots" always ready to vomit and pass some of this material to their nest mates. Honey ants are found on dry regions of several continents, including the American Southwest. The natives relish this sweet treat.

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© Beatriz Moisset. 2012

A Busy Pollinator and a Relaxed One

An industrious little bee gathering food for her babies and pollinating flowers along the way. It methodically collects pollen without missing any and then promptly flies to the next flower.



The bee is very industrious and visits many flowers in a very short time. The flower fly, on the other hand, takes its precious time gobbling up pollen, so it visits fewer flowers overall.

Metallic green bee, a good pollinator

The pure golden green bee, Augochlora pura, is a singular bee, smaller than a honey bee and looking like a shiny metallic little robot bee. There are several other metallic green bees related to this, they compete in beauty and they are all good pollinators of many wild flowers.

In the spring she builds her nest under the bark of rotten logs. If you thought that dead trees or large dead branches had no use you were wrong. To this very nice pollinator they are prized real estate, just the right place to raise her family safely and well protected. She searches for the right dead tree diligently and, if your garden is one of those perfectly manicure ones, you will not have the pleasure of her and her family's company.

She builds a small chamber in the space between the loose bark and the solid wood using her own saliva and secretions. She packs it with a storage of pollen and nectar very carefully kneaded and shaped as tiny loaves. She encrusts the inner walls of the chamber with these loaves arranged like tiles. When she has enough to feed one baby from birth to maturity she lays a small egg and shuts the chamber. She surrounds it with loose debris which abounds in such places and starts the construction of other chambers. You may find a couple of rows of four or five of these cells. The mother bee dies at the end of the summer and the new generation spends the rest of the year comfortable and safe until the next spring.