I’ve written about birds in this column ad nauseam, and for good reason – everyone warms to their avian charms. But what about the other contender in the euphemistic phrase, bees?
Its Heath Week at the end of this month, so I’ve been out and about recently refreshing my acquaintance with East Devon’s heathlands, revising for the ecological pop quiz which normally ensues. It’s a real treat, to be able to spend time on a sunny heath in the middle of July, creeping about after adders and lizards, or rooting about through the grasses in search of an elusive specimen; what’s not to love?
One group of animals which always raise an eyebrow are the solitary bees and wasps which call Fire Beacon Hill home. Not only are they a very cute group, but they banish the misconception in people’s minds that there’s just two types of bees – honey and bumble – and a single black and yellow stingy wasp. This is anything but the case.
While walking on the well trodden paths of the local nature reserve, look out for tiny burrows in the sandy soil. This light sandy soil acts like a radiator and is the perfect incubator for solitary bees, of which the UK has about 250 different species! Unless you are a committed hymenopterist, in which case you will already know all this, there’s not really much point in trying to describe the various species, but that shouldn’t discourage you from a closer inspection.
When you’ve found your burrows, on a warm sunny day, settle down beside the path (insuring you’re not resting on yet more holes) and wait for the returning adult. If the insect is carrying leaves, or pollen on its legs, it’s a herbivore and therefore a member of the bee family, if however it is bringing back a juicy caterpillar or other hapless animal then it’s a carnivore and that mean a wasp.
The bees and wasps make a burrow in the soil and lay an egg or group of eggs at the bottom of the burrow. The adult will then tend these eggs and larvae, feeding them on either plant or animal materials as appropriate to the species, until the grub has reached the stage to pupate into an adult itself and start the cycle once again. Watching these tiny animals working away is always entertaining, and notice how much they look like ants – another member of this family of animals.
You’ve got no reason to be wary of these bees or wasps as they are either stingless or, if they do have a sting they are disinclined to use it.
Another group of ground-living bees, this time a little more familiar to us all, are the bumble bees and yet again there’s more to this little lot than you may first imagine.
In total there are 25 different bumblebees in Britain, a few years ago there were 28, but in recent years three have become extinct. So bumbles are in something of a crisis, which means they could benefit from more of us looking out for them.
Of the 25 species, there are six which are common enough for us all to look out for and six is few enough to provide you with a brief description of each, however it will mean resorting to the use of scientific names which I apologise for in advance! Before we start its useful to know that a bee’s body is divided into three sections; the head (self explanatory); the thorax (between the head and the next bit); and the abdomen (sort of the tail). I’ll just describe the males here as females have already been out and about in our gardens and are now beneath ground producing eggs as fast as they can.
The best way to interpret the following written key is to translate it onto a simple box diagram of two squares (head and thorax) and a rectangle. Colour as appropriate, and you’ve got a ready made ID chart for bumbles.
Firstly the garden bumble bee, Bombus horotum. A black head, yellow thorax with black stripe, yellow at the front of the abdomen, a black stripe and then a large white tail.
Not to be confused with the white tail bumble bee, Bombus leucorum, with black head, black thorax with yellow stripe at the front, black abdomen with yellow stripe and white terminal band.
Bombus terrestris or the buff tail bumble bee has a black head, orange front of the thorax and black to the rear, a black abdomen with orange strip and off-white terminal stripe.
Bombus lapidarius or the red tailed bumble bee is easily recognisable, with black head, black thorax and abdomen with a bright red stripe at the tail end, just as its name suggests!
Bombus pratorum or the early nesting bumble bee has a black head, black thorax with yellow at the front, a black abdomen with partial yellow stripe and orange tail band.
Finally the common carder bee, Bombus pascuorum, is an orangey fellow with orange head, orange thorax and variously orange, black and buff striped abdomen.
So, armed with your bumblebee ID chart, get out into your garden, the local park or up onto the heaths and record what bumblebees you see busily collecting nectar and pollen. Your records could prove hugely valuable in years to come.
About eight years ago I spotted a job advert in the guardian supplement, looking for a Publications Officer for the Devon Wildlife Trust. I was, at the time, a newly graduated Biology student, working as a Press Officer in North London, and not really liking it at all. I jumped at the opportunity and, with my CV being well received, was sent a pre-interview exercise to gauge my abilities.
I got a scientific paper by the Trust’s Marine Biologist and it was my task to transform it into people-friendly language. The ground-breaking data detailed trawling damage to the rocky reefs of Lyme Bay and its author was one Chris Davis, I remember trying to picture the boffin who wrote such interesting stuff.
Little did I know that I would successfully land the job with DWT and, moreover, get to know Chris very well indeed. So the progress of the Lyme Bay Project has been something I have kept a close eye on over the last few years. Last week a major step was taken by the Government when they confirmed that an area of seabed lying off our coastline between Beer Head and West bay in Dorset, would be closed to scallop dredging, beam trawling and otter trawling.
It is scallop dredging which has been shown to cause the most damage to the fragile corals and sponges of our cold water reefs, and so it is this practice which has been halted. Other forms of fishing, such as potting, hand lining and diving, which do not have such impact, are still allowed within the 60 square nautical miles and if the marine life benefits from the removal of heavy fishing gear, these low impact fishing techniques could benefit.
As a conservationist I am very proud that this has happened off our coastline. As I’ve stated in previous articles, our levels of maritime conservation lag woefully behind that of the terrestrial, and this is a positive step in the right direction. Of course not everyone sees it this way.
Fishermen and their lobby groups have been very vocal to undermine the exclusion, stating that this will be an unbearable burden coming, as it does, at exactly the same time as massive increases in fuel costs. I can empathise with their frustrations, but it doesn’t make scallop dredging any less impacting. So what are we to do?
I enjoy fresh Lyme Bay scallops immensely, and would be sorry to see a reduction of these beauties leading to alternatives being brought from overseas. Especially from further a-field, where they may have even worse fishing practices! I hope that the lobby groups and fishing associations, which have worked so hard in recent years trying to resist the Lyme Bay ban, will now work with their members to help them diversify their businesses.
As Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall is quick to point out in his book “Fish”, or on his current TV series, Lyme Bay has some of the best fish in the world, so the loss of a fishing fleet to sustainably harvest this bounty would indeed be a great shame. But the key lies in the little word sustainable.
As with any food that economically reflects its scarcity, intricacy or expertise in collection, we should be clamouring to pay a little more to buy our local scallops, hand caught and fresh off the quay. For a good analogy, look towards our friends in Tuscany, an area we in the South West could do well to emulate.
Truffles have been long treasured in the Tuscan hills, with skilled old men and their truffle hunting hounds or pigs foraging in secret woodlands, the location of which is passed down through generations. A few hundred grams of white gold might be gleaned from these areas each year, and so gastronomes know they have to part with considerable cash to enjoy the fungal feast.
Yes, it would be quicker and easier to bulldoze the entire ancient woodland and collect all the truffles there. But that would make for a very small harvest this time next year…