Thanking The Bees

This Thanksgiving, let's give thanks to pollinators and acknowledge the work they do to put food on our tables in abundance, for without bees and other pollinators we would not be able to enjoy the kind of Thanksgiving meals we have come to take for granted.

I am especially thankful and grateful this year because we almost lost our colonies. I cannot imagine late summer at White's Wetland without the familiar liquid gold harvest, the silky textured honey, pure and light and delicate, that has been gracing White family tables since 1919.

So the tragic and frightening scenario of a world without bees hit a little too close to home this year. The fact is that all over the world bees are disappearing. Bees are at risk on every continent. And if bees are at risk, the human race is at risk. It's that simple. Colony-collapse disorder, pesticide use, disease, loss of habitat - we are putting our most important animal kingdom allies at great risk by virtue of our own bad habits, our abuses and negligence and our ignorance. Books like Laurence Packer's can help us to better understand these tiny underrated creatures so that we come to appreciate how critical they are to our own survival.

Keeping the Bees is not a puritanical moral lecture, however, but a delightful journey around the world - the world of bees, that is. Packer teaches and enlightens with prose that is as easy on the palate as the finest honey dripping on fresh-baked bread. Fascinating and informative, it will forever change your relationship to these incredible insects. If the first step to saving them is to start caring about them, then this book is essential reading.

We must save the planet's pollinators before it is too late. We humans fear their sting, but the harm we are doing to their world will have painful repercussions for all of us - it will be a painfully hungry world, a world with more people but fewer crops. Fewer plants, fewer flowers, fewer fruits, fewer vegetables.

So before you pile your plate with delicious baked squashes, green beans, carrots or pumpkin pie this Thanksgiving, give a thought to the tiny creature who really brought it to your table. That yummy goodness really didn't come from Loblaws, Metro, Whole Foods or even Farmboy. It has been brought to you courtesy of the humble bee.

A Year in Review Part III: All the “Tiny Green Things”

I’ve always had a profound love for wild things—I’m a big kid really, having never lost that childish instinct to reach out and pet something. It’s like a biological imperative, this need and desire to touch an animal. Silly, I know! Dog, cat, horse, deer, hare, crow…I revel in how animals and birds feel. I love their fur, their feathers, their feet, their hooves, their ears and, most of all, their eyes.

But I seem to have plumbed new depths of awareness and gentleness this year, which has astonished even me. Kneeling on the ground, stretching out in the ticklish grass or on the cool brown earth, just getting down close to the tiniest inhabitants of the wetland has yielded the most extraordinary joy. They have faces! They wear their skeleton on the outside. They have so many intricate moving parts, like marvelous articulated toys.

Only insects are much more precious than any manmade thing because they are living, breathing organisms—right under our feet, near us every day, even though we might not always be aware of their presence. They are indeed the silent majority. We think of them only when they bite us, sting us or ruin our picnics. But they are so much more than pests and pains.

If you say you love wild things, you cannot just love the big, charismatic creatures, like lions and zebras and elephants. No! You’ve got to embrace them all—the small, the pesky, the ugly—the faces only a mother could love. The “bugs” we humans call pests are truly marvels of nature. Even the house fly up close is a wonder of creation. E.O. Wilson knows it. Walt Whitman knew it. Now we all need to acknowledge it. And soon. We have to start valuing every living organism from plankton to polar bears or else we stand to lose them all. Lesson for humanity: the mighty depend on the miniscule.

So now as the snow lays thick and deep all around us, my mind is turning to the coming of spring and summer. I am eagerly looking forward to meeting up with a whole host of new insect buddies, learning more about them and watching them go about their daily, important work. In the depths of winter, I’m dreaming of damselflies and dung beetles.

Yes, 2010 was a good year. I learned that lymantriidae—tussock moths and kin—are no less lovely than a lynx.

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A Year In Review, Part II

Tonight’s Nature London talk is In Praise of Spiders. Indeed, let’s praise all insects. Insects should not be overlooked or underestimated. Arthur V. Evans of the American Wildlife Federation aptly, and I believe reverently, calls them “the silent majority.” Small but significant, insects, spiders and butterflies are key members of a healthy ecosystem and the very foundation upon which all other life forms rely. And in order to protect all life on earth, we must value the insect kingdom. Where, for example, would we be without the pollinators?

My childhood fascination for insects was renewed in 2010. I found myself wanting to look at them “up close and personal.” By really taking the time to look at insects, butterflies and spiders you get to see how extraordinary they are and how really quite breathtakingly beautiful. Of course, everyone would agree with me that butterflies and pond damsels are beautiful; I can see how beetles and spiders might be a harder sell.

But take a closer look. And be prepared to be amazed, astonished and delighted. They are exquisitely constructed and extremely intelligent. Last summer I marveled at a host of fascinating creatures I never knew I shared space with. Ironically, my worldview actually expanded the more I focused on the tiny things. I bought books. I rummaged through the books I already owned. I scoured the Internet, with my descriptions and sketches in hand. What a joy to be able to put a name to some of these creatures! What a thrill to watch them!

I had to perform a number of rescues this summer too. Unfortunately, crickets and other insects end up in the pool on a regular basis. Even with the pool completely enclosed they manage to get in. Daily, throughout the long summer, I would sit for long periods of time with this or that insect on my finger, observing each one methodically drying off damp antennae.

Crane flies, for example, are exceedingly fussy. They make sure their gossamer wings are completely dry before they take flight. They’ll even do little test runs with their wings just to see how dry they are. If not, they keep drying themselves. They do this over and over until they are absolutely certain they can fly right. Then…they’re gone!

All of the tiny bugs and flying insects that I rescued this summer patiently let me carry them to gardens, fields or wooded areas. Bugs, beetles, ladybugs and skippers, they never flinched at my touch. I even rescued a couple of spectacular-looking fellows that I later learned were Bombardier Beetles.

And the crickets were a revelation. I carried one gorgeous big cricket over forty feet to his new home in the garden and throughout the journey he sat poised and erect on my finger, facing forward like a captain on the bridge of an ocean-going vessel, proud, alert. Did he enjoy the trip? I wonder.

And then there was the day of the magnificent Gladiator Katydid, who nonchalantly walked out of the vacuum cleaner that’s kept in the sun room. She let me carry her to the east garden, seemingly confident that she would not be harmed. She reluctantly left my hand only when I set her gently under a leaf.

As for spiders, where do I begin? The decorous Platycryptus Undatus has got to be one of the most interesting spiders we humans could ever encounter. Harmless, intelligent, inquisitive and easy-going, they seem more interested in us than fearful. Want to get to know spiders better or overcome an irrational fear of them? Start with handsome Platycryptus. You will be glad you did.

As for me, I can hardly wait for spring.

(Thanks to Nature London for the picture of Platycryptus Undatus.)