Bumbarella

A few years ago, I kept a scrappy record of an odd and engaging encounter with a spring bumble bee: 

The springtime bumblebee mission is precise and precarious. Unlike honeybees, bumblebee colonies last for one season only. All will perish at the end of summer, except the new young queens who, nectar-plump and newly inseminated, retreat to nooks and crannies, or piles of leaves, in which to shut down and hibernate through the winter. When the first warmer rays of March sunshine filter through to them, they awake with a critical sense of purpose. They must forage enough food to both fuel themselves and to single-footedly raise a small initial brood of handmaids who will help establish the nest. 

Since childhood, I have never ceased to be thrilled by the reward of bumblebee refuelling and general refurbishment, and it has become a significant feature of my many springs.

Bumblebees cannot take off and fly unless their body temperature reaches 27C, so food supplies are critical. They are always less than an hour from starvation, so rescuing tired or grounded bumblies on days when the weather is harsh and the flowers sparse can become a compelling and rewarding hobby. All it takes is a blob of sugary water to recharge them and power them up and away. And they can reach speeds of up to 15mph.

Bumblebee nests are messy constructs in low holes and crevices, often old mouse nests, from which the serial egg-laying queen may never again emerge. All summer long, we will see only her army of female workers with their bulging kneebags, until finally, the new young virgin queens-to-be emerge, as well as the first and only males. Boy bumblebees have only one purpose in life. Smaller, slimmer, with no sting, and no kneebags for hauling pollen, they just hang out together around all the flowery hotspots, necking nectar and looking for girls. Unlike honeybees, bumble queens accept only one lover, who then plugs her bottom to prevent any future competition. Meanwhile, back at the old home, all the  worker females have died of exhaustion. Sometimes the knackered old queen will emerge for a few last feeble bumbly days of sunshine and nectar, but though welcome, no sugar water rescue mission can restore her now. But shower her with love and thanks for all the many fruits of her labour.

So who was Bumbarella? I was spring busying in the garden when a large bumblebee blundered directly and noisily across the lawn towards me, and perched on my bare foot. Charmed but mystified, I picked her up and took her to a large flowering shrub, but she was reluctant to disembark, and also very vocal. It was soon apparent that she was unable to fly, so I took her inside for a hit of sugarwater and a magnified examination. Early queens are often weighed down by mites that board them during hibernation, but this young lady was clean, and her disability unclear. I returned her to a flowery part of the garden and wished her well. 

A couple of days later, she reappeared, again buzzing  across the lawn to greet me. We exchanged news, I delivered a sugar hit, gave her a name, and started to record our encounters:

Bumbarella has been my flightless garden resident for almost two weeks. We meet up in the same corner of the garden every couple of days and I deliver a shot of sugar water after which she blunders back into the depths of the rockery. Strange but true

Day 14:  almost trod on her when we crossed paths again today, so gave her a lift up into a popular bee pub shrub ...

Day 16: forty years ago I gently planted a "guaranteed maximum 18inch" dwarf conifer in my little rockery. This morning, a nice man came to cull the light-consuming monster that it had become. Unfortunately, it was growing slap in the middle of B's blunder zone & probable den. I played for time, making silly smalltalk and far too many cups of tea, as I casually scanned every inch of the ground - in vain- for Herself. Eventually, unable to delay him any longer, I nonchalantly mentioned the possibility that he may notice a bumble bee that I sort of knew that could get caught up in it all. Fortunately he has worked for me before and is a patient and understanding young man, but an hour having now passed, he needed to start. I went off indoors to guzzle coffee and listen to loud Radio 4 and consider turning myself in for a dementia test. Ffs, it's only a bloody bee. Anyway, I went out about an hour later, bearing more tea, when who should come blundering through the debris at my feet but Ms B! After brief introductions, I whisked her off to the sanctuary of her flower bowl, where she stayed, happily slurping jam and apple blossom until the deed was all done. I returned her to a much lighter little world in time for some afternoon sunshine. 

Somewhat disconcerting, out in the village today, when a couple of people said hello and then kindly asked how my bee was

Day 18: This afternoon I darn near trod on her creeping up on me on the lawn. As we sat awhile in the sun I noticed her fourth wing is partially missing, hence the flightlessness. This renders her an ineffective brood queen as she can't forage for nectar & pollen to raise any youngsters even if she has them. So this is now the tale of a strange & feisty disabled queen .. a purposeless life in bee terms except I feel this rather charismatic little creature may have a message to impart ...

Day 19: chilly today. Headed for the greenhouse, I spotted her on the ground - barely responsive. Scooped her up , rapid response to my skin temperature; indoors for a heartening blob of ginger jam, and a buzz chat. Then she settled in for a thumb snuggle. She is besotted by my silver rings. Believe it or not, I do have a life, but knocked up a temporary recuperation den in the rockery fit for a struggling queen ..

Day 20: it is very strange the way this insect is relating to me .. apart from this morning, I don't look for her. I assume, of course, that she is an awakened queen, and may well have a small brood somewhere, so try not to interfere. Wonder how long they live?

Day 21: not an inviting day for woman or bee. I have been busy indoors, but have created no end of excuses to pop out to the greenhouse or to examine the lawn. I put on a coat and scarf for multiple coffees sat out on the garden bench. Bumbarella continues to be missing in action, but there have been lengthy absences before. I have left her favourite yellow bit-of-duster blankie under the bee pub shrub as a rendezvous. As bumble bees are very tuned to the smell of their feet, she may home in on it and find the tiny pot of treats I've left there. Only a bloody bee ..

Day 22:  no cheery little fart-buzz greeting out in the garden today. Some comfort derived from the minimal appearance of any other bumblies either - maybe the continued cold & damp is responsible for a general bumblebee duvet day. I try not to fret knowing my little chum has had no energy fix now for two days.

Day 23: after another day without a nourishing encounter, my charismatic little bee friend has probably given all she could to attract our attention,  Like polar bears & elephants, puffins & dolphins, it helps to be cute if you're endangered, however brief the spark. St David's last words : "Do the little things" ..  

So I mourned her and in her honour read up all I could about our 24 British bumblebee species. So here's some things I learned that our B would want you to know ... "almost every cucumber, aubergine, runner bean, blackcurrant, strawberry, blueberry and pepper that you eat was almost certainly pollinated by a BUMBLE BEE - probably a factory-reared bee!, perhaps a wild bee. A tin of baked beans largely comprises navy beans that were pollinated  by bumble bees, in a sauce made from bumble-bee pollinated tomatoes. We owe these little creatures for all that they give us." (quote from ‘Sting in the Tale’) 

So I learn that there are actual bumble bee factories for commercial pollinator breeding and mass international shipping of nests! As with commercial salmon, this exacerbates viruses and parasites, and escapees will breed with natives and compromise their health and ways of being. What are we doing? Apologies and respect. 

Meanwhile, if you have a garden, plant old-style perennials: lupins, hollyhocks, lavender, herbs, antirrhinums, foxgloves, chives, buddleia, and allow a little clover to bloom in your lawn. Sadly, our glorious modern bedding plants are invariably beautiful but useless sterile hybrids. Tell the children in your life to respect and not fear these big old bumblers. If you are gentle and helpful, a sting is most unlikely. 

And do check out the Bumblebee Conservation Trust .. 

Love & bzzzp, Bumbarella 🐝