It’s ending.
James E. Tew
Yep, for me, the 2021 season is ending. Yes, there will still be some late season flowering action from fall flowers such as goldenrod and asters, but I find that those late season plants are like some people, who after eating a full dinner, are asked if they want dessert. They reply with something like, “I am sooo full – but maybe just a bite or two of that Dutch Apple pie with some vanilla ice cream.” For my bees and me, the full nectar meal of 2021 was presented several months ago and now the seasonal fall flowers are equivalent to, “Just a bite or two of some pie.” So, for me and my bees, the 2021 season is ending. It will have been an “okay” year.
Ergo, the sad, happy days of late Summer
At this very moment, the sky is blue with hither/yon fluffy clouds being stirred by a warm breeze. (I’m not making this up. It really is.) A little house wren that is not much larger than my thumb, is making more sound than birds 10 times its size. Plants are green and leafed out. But what blossoms remain are really showing their age. Spring 2021 is dead and gone, and Summer is aging – but it’s aging nicely. Today is a nice day, but I’m somewhat sad to know that the Summer season must end.
But here’s a quirk
While these plants and their blossoms are clearly senescencing, until fall flowers arrive, other than robbing each other, these waning plants are all that’s left for bees’ forage. I don’t know how to best pose the question, but is it possible that blooms that come later in the season get better pollinator attention than blooms in full peak when pollinator attraction competition is keenest? I pose the question because while I was taking these photos, there were abundant pollinators – of multiple species – consistently visiting the same tired, old blooms. Occasionally, there were even what could be called, pollinator traffic jams.
Yet another quirk
These aging flower plantings can only be loved by beekeepers and dedicated gardeners. From a manicured landscape view, these aging wildflower plantings look terrible. It would be socially unacceptable to snap a pic of my immediate neighbors’ yards, but you just know that they look great. Yes, I feel societal pressure to neaten things up. I’m the guy who is pained and actually slows my mower to allow pollinators to leave the clover blooms so I can mow them down. Odd, isn’t it? I nurture plants for my bees, but I cut them down so the place looks neater.
Then there are the invasive plants
During my entire career within the university community, bee activity on invasive plants was always a minefield topic. What’s an invasive plant? What’s a non-native plant? What’s a noxious native plant? What is a perfectly accepted native plant that has become a weed by simply being in the wrong place? Yet, every one of these topic areas has passionate supporters who would vilify those who are not on board with their particular philosophy. For all groups within all areas, please know that I have tried to be a good steward of our environment. Most often, I have failed.
Yet, I have done it again. I have a BeeBee tree (apparently Tetradium daniellii). I planted it more than 10 – maybe 12 – years ago. The potted seedling had plant contaminants, and I was not sure which was BeeBee plant, and which was not. I planted the entire root-knotted pot and let the plant(s) fend for themselves. Nearly 10 years later, it grew to form an unappealing oversized shrub. Male deer (bucks) have damaged it by using it as a “buck rub” to mark their territory. If I struck the shrub with my tractor mower, the limbs easily broke. It has a terrible grow pattern with intertwining limbs. I cannot explain why I have not pulled it from the ground. On no less than four occasions, I have either made plans to remove the plant or to have it commercially removed. I was not even sure what the plant actually was. Then, in July 2021, it did a very strange thing – for the first time, it flowered. Within the insect world, the word was out. Wasps, bees, flies, moths, and beetles seemingly came from afar to partake in what was actually a very small blossom population. It was truly impressive. This is how bee and insect activity were described by Vincent in the Michigan Botanist, 2004.1
Indeed, when the plants are in flower, an incredible number of bees can be seen (and heard) visiting the flowers. Hayes (1977) describes the tree as valuable for beekeepers because it flowers prolifically from mid-July through mid-August, when little else is blooming. The heavy seed production has been cited as a potential food source for wildlife.
Yes, after years of being uncertain, it was suddenly very easy to determine that the plant I picked up at a bee meeting more than 10 years ago is, indeed, a BeeBee tree and yes, it is also listed as an invasive plant that should not be propagated. Well, of course, it is!2 That seems to be how life works. This was an incredibly attractive plant to both insects, birds and even deer. So, it’s ironic that it should be wrong to plant it.
This admonishment happens so very often. At this point, I fear that I am skirting with frustrating (angering?) people outside of beekeeping who have stronger opinions than I, but it becomes painful to keep having rewarding plants restricted due to undesirable characteristics.
The ostracized plant list is long and complex. Chinese Tallow tree (Triadica sebifera (L.) Small), Purple Loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria), Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellate), the common sweet clovers (Melilotus sp.), are highly attractive plants species to honey bees but are on invasive lists. Even beloved Kudzu (Pueraria montana var. lobata Willd) – the vine that ate the South – is attractive to honey bees. Hey, don’t only blame us. Solitary bees and flies are major pollinators of Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolate), an aggressive plant that is unwelcomed in North America.
Here’s the conundrum – these undesirable plants are not always harmful to pollinators. Indeed, these obnoxious plants are sometimes beneficial food sources for pollinators. In their writings, Vincent and Drossart, et.al, alluded to the uncertainty of harmful effects of invasive species on insect pollinators.
A bee colony tempest
I do not intentionally propagate non-native or invasive plants. I was blissfully ignorant when I planted the BeeBee tree. As with Chinese Tallow, I thought I was helping my bees. I mean how common is the question, “What can I plant for bee forage?” But other than not intentionally planting these undesirable species, I can do nothing. My bees have their own sense. That sense directs them to find food – find it fast – find the most – and defend their reserves mightily. The relationship between pollinator foragers and unloved plant species seems likely to continue for a long time.
On an honest and personal note
Since 1983, in my monthly ramblings, I have more than occasionally referenced my immediate neighbors and their involvement with my bees. Unintentionally, over the years, my neighbors, both near and far, have molded my beekeeping philosophy and colony management abilities. It is rare for me, the beekeeper, when planning my bee management day, not to consider what my neighbors will be doing on that same day. If they are having an outdoor event, it will not be a good day for me to remove honey supers. If they are mowing, I will not spend my time producing a bee video. What my neighbors are doing, determines what I can do with my bees. It has always been that way.
I would readily argue that those of you with the luxury of not having close neighbors have had a bit less than the full beekeeping experience. Keeping bees without close neighbors could be compared to keeping bees that do not sting. Without neighbors and without stinging bees, the penalty for common beekeeping mistakes is greatly reduced. Neighbors make one become a more finely tuned beekeeper.
If I may, of my many beekeeping/neighbor stories, I would like to retell a short one at this point. One of my two immediate neighbors, who was a bilateral lung transplant recipient, was fulfilling a medical appointment one-hundred miles away in Columbus, Ohio, where he was seeing his doctors for routine reasons. While making chitchat, one of the medical people mentioned that he kept bees. My neighbor and his accompanying wife immediately said that they lived next door to a beekeeper in Wooster – Jim Tew. The medical person said that knew Jim and that he read this very publication, Bee Culture, and asked if they were the neighbors that I occasionally mentioned in some of my articles.
I was caught. Yes, I was hopelessly caught. I never, ever dreamed that my neighbor would see the inside of a Bee Culture magazine. When they returned home, my neighbors were eager to tell me how small the world is. They were very much interested. As was always the case, he was amused and unoffended. I assured him that he was always mentioned in a positive supportive light. That part was perfectly true.
Sadly, last month on the day of my 73rd birthday, my neighbor passed. We had lived side-by-side for 38 years. He and his family never once – not once – complained about my bees. Not once.
Even other neighbors
Eleven months earlier, during September 2020, my neighbor on the other side of my property passed. We had been neighbors for about 30 years. This neighbor had an interesting history that I have never told you until now. For some vague reason, I was afraid to tell you that while she was living that, in her youth, she was an original Mouseketeer and personally knew Walt Disney and all the other beloved cast members. Yes, for a while, she was famous.
Through the years, I had many bee events with Bonni, my neighbor with the connection to Micky Mouse. Yes, it’s true. She did her part in helping me develop into a more accomplished bee wrangler. My bees’ insistence on visiting her bird waterer caused me to develop a life-long interest in bees’ water foraging behavior. My bees filling her bird feeders during late Winter and early Spring as they foraged for anything resembling pollen forced me to marvel at honey bees’ desperation for protein in early Spring.
Anne, a neighbor one house down, helped finetune my explanation on how ground-nesting yellowjackets were completely different from honey bees. Neighbors have taught me how to make small talk when hiving a swarm on their property. Neighbors have come to me to remove hornet’s nests for them. Neighbors have asked to borrow my beekeeping equipment so they could remove their own stinging insect nests. And of course, some neighbors have explained they have life-threatening allergies to bees and are required to take Benadryl® to forestall death. Neighbors add a unique dimension to one’s beekeeping endeavor.
An honest and personal note continued
I was just short of a total of seventy years coexisting with my two immediate neighbors. Anne, one house down, has now relocated. Readers, I’m starting over. On an honest note, I tell you truly that it is a sobering task, at my current age, to start all over again educating and coaching people who live near my bees and who have no interest in becoming beekeepers themselves. (Deep sigh at this point)
I expect some of you are asking, “Why do you not just find an out-yard apiary and keep bees away from home?” Done that. I do have an out-yard. I rarely go there. One of my remaining bee interests is bee photography and videography3. I want some of my bees near me to set these photos up so I can show them to you in these articles and to support our podcast, Honey Bee Obscura. I need all my gear nearby and I need to be able to respond to weather issues. But mostly, I just want some bees close to me. I suppose I will just put up even more fencing. You know about fences and neighbors.
As always…
If any of you have unique neighbor stories, let me hear from you. For those of you without neighbors, I apologize for my ramblings. Change is a common characteristic of life. I need to remember that fact as everything changes all around me.
Dr. James E. Tew, Emeritus Faculty, Entomology, The Ohio State University and One Tew Bee, LLC
tewbee2@gmail.com
http://www.onetew.com
https://youtu.be/FXI3JqiJ8LI
1Vincent, Michael A. 2004. Tetradium Daniellii (Korean Evodia; Rutaceae) As an Escape in North America. The Michigan Botanist. Vol 43. PP 21-24. https://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/p/pod/dod-idx/tetradium-daniellii-korean-evodia-rutaceae-as-an-escape.
2Drossart, M., Michez, D. & Vanderplanck, M. Invasive plants as potential food resource for native pollinators: A case study with two invasive species and a generalist bumble bee. Sci Rep 7, 16242 (2017). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-017-16054-5
