Hi, friends — welcome to issue #24 of my newsletter about animal encounters. It’s green and steamy out, things are a-growing, bees are a-buzzing. This week, I’m focusing on the charismatic common eastern bumble bee (Bombus impatiens). I think of them as small pets. As always, please leave a note in the comments, or you can reply directly to this email. — Amy Jean
Last year, around the end of May, I took the kids to a state park about an hour’s drive from here, in northern Connecticut. I had been told there were pink lady slippers in the woods. We timed it perfectly and stepped into a forest with dozens of pink lady slippers, all elegantly blooming (or obscenely blooming, depending on your frame of mind; see image below).
We were the only ones there and worked our way along the trail. It was quiet, and the light was green in a mid-morning kind of way, when along came a bumble bee, buzzing through the woods. Pink lady slippers rely on bumble bees for pollination, but it’s a tricky business. A bee must be strong enough to slip through the petals, where they are then trapped with only one escape hatch out the top (where all the pollen is).
We watched the bee buzz around the top of a flower, bzzz, bzzz, grasping at the slipper with its front legs, bzzzzz, trying to find the key to the puzzle, bzz bzzzz. Then, it grabbed at a thinly pointed top leaf, almost in desperation, and held on. Quietly, in slow motion—no buzz—the bee slid off the leaf and to the ground. More silence (tiny thud). Half a second later, the bee started its buzz back up again, wobbled in the air, and took off, bzzzzz. This struck us as immensely funny, as if the bee had planned a comedy routine for our audience of three (clearly putting the “bumble” in bumble bee). It also gave new meaning to why the flower is called a “slipper.”
Since then, I have developed an understanding of and admiration for bumble bees. Sometimes they seem enormous, in mid-summer, buzzing about their business among the cone flowers and coreopsis. They don’t mind my hovering, and I find their antics entertaining. For now, the bumble bees are only beginning to appear among the rhododendron and azalea. If I stand nearby, I can hear layers of buzzing, emanating from the depths of the foliage.
Bombus impatiens is an important pollinator species in North America, often employed by the greenhouse industry (you can thank them for your blueberries and tomatoes, among other fruits and vegetables). They are very adaptable and will forage among many kinds of flowers and in many kinds of habitats. Bombus impatiens is one of 49 native species of bumble bee in North America (honey bees are a European species, introduced to North America in the 1600s).
Eastern bumble bees are one of the social bumble bees, organized around a queen who begins the colony from scratch in spring, laying thousands of eggs. Bumble bees nest underground, often in old rodent holes, in groups of a few hundred (not all of those eggs survive). Bumbles are big and buzzy enough that they can generate their own heat, allowing them to forage earlier and later in the year than other insects. Their buzzy-ness also knocks around the pollen (known as buzz-pollination), which aids many plants in creating fruit.
Bumble bees were once commonly known as humble bees (for their hum), and I like both of these names. Their little engines are prodigious, their comedic timing impeccable; they are my favorite small humble bumbles, please keep an eye out for them and enjoy the buzz.
Strangely enough, this is exactly one year to the day from the lady slippers below. This bumble bee has amazing pollen pockets filled to the brim. May 27, 2021
Pink lady slippers, May 27, 2020
Bumble bee links—
I love this short video of bumble bees learning to pull a string in an experiment to get sugar water [National Geographic via YouTube]
This is so truly strange and incredible—someone managed to take a video of a bumble bee trapped in a pink lady slipper. The suspense is enormous! [YouTube]
This short clip with David Attenborough features a thermal camera; get a glimpse of glowing bees and daffodils, here [BBC Earth via YouTube]
You can be a bee spotter, too [bumblebeewatch.org]
Fill your garden/porch/window ledge with native plants for pollinators; here’s a handy resource from the National Wildlife Federation [gardenforwildlife.org]
Also —
My bumble bee drawing is for sale; part of the proceeds will go to the Xerces Society. Please let me know if you’re interested. More than a quarter of North American bumble bees are facing some degree of extinction risk.
Next time: the mighty pileated woodpecker (a favorite!).
Wild Life #24 / This newsletter is a place to learn about and enjoy the life around us, one step/paw/tiny heartbeat at a time. Please share with friends and family and have a great weekend.
Wild Life / bumble bee
That bumblebee escape was compelling video!
I am commenting to express how hyped I am for the pileated woodpecker. Truly an unexpected outcome from this year is an appreciation for the woodpeckers (there are a lot of them) in my neighborhood.
One has been going to town on this tree on my road and I always slow down to see how it's looking.