All About Bees

It clearly states on every tub of Wilkinson’s Timbercare that it is for use on roughly sawn wood, such as fences and sheds. It is completely unsuitable for decking. Don’t put it on decking, ok? 

Last year I used Ronseal “Does what it says on the fu(king tin” decking stain. Yet it didn’t seem to say on the tin that it peeled off and looked awful after less than a year. It turned out to be £60 wasted on crap paint so you can’t blame me if I looked at the Wilkinson’s Timbercare and thought that at £5 for a giant tub it was worth a go on the decking. I mean it looked okay once I’d finished putting two coats of it on, I’m sure the warnings were just for those obsessed in a perfect natural finish and I wasn’t one of them people.

A day later it rained heavily and when I awoke to look through my kitchen window I was greeted with a new red cedar coloured swimming pool right in the middle of my decking. Ah right, you shouldn’t use it on decking then. Turns out it isn’t waterproof on horizontal surfaces of planed wood.

So, at the weekend you could find me coating my decking for the third, fourth and fifth times in a week, this time with Cuprinol Ultra-Tough Decking Stain, a substance that Amazon reviews I read post-application stated was “utter shit”. It was during Coating 5 (Coat Hard With A Vengeance) that I noticed that a bumblebee had made a nest in some decomposing piles of lawn grass I’d taken out a few weeks later. This made me very happy, I’m a big fan of bumblebees and the thought of a nest of them going to and fro throughout the summer made painting the decking once again – and removing fresh magpie shit – more tolerable than it had been.

A couple of hours later you could find me in the shed rooting around for plant pots. As I reached up towards one bag of pots it started to vibrate slightly as if someone had left a mobile phone in it. I swung the bag around to discover that a bumblebee queen had become lodged in one of the anti-suffocation holes in a Wilkinson’s carrier bag (first the Timbercare, now this!), its head and part of the thorax had managed to get through the hole but the abdomen and wings remained firmly stuck. It appeared that a Tree Bumblebee had hibernated – or sought to establish a nest – in this carrier bag and was now stuck. A queen bumblebee emerging from hibernation is very low on stores of energy so needs to eat quickly and substantially after awakening so this appeared to be a matter of some urgency. The poor thing struggled, its legs sliding uselessly off the plastic, efforts to extricate itself becoming increasingly pathetic through exhaustion.

What do I do? How do I remove a panicking bee from a tiny hole in a carrier bag without hurting the thing?

I watched it for a while – a time that seemed like hours – in the hope it’d eventually widen the hole enough to escape. But with each passing minute it became weaker. I went inside to get some scissors, believing I was somehow dextrous enough to cut round a flailing bumblebee. Again, I stood watching, scissors in my hand as more time was wasted.

Confession time: I’m soft hearted; an overly sentimental, overly emotional disgrace to the stoic and tough Allans that went before me. Therefore, I found myself getting stupidly upset from a mixture of hopelessness and frustration. Do something! Anything!

So I just grabbed the bottom of the bag, trying to be as gentle as I could, and opened up the hole with my fingers, all the while with a vibrating bee making it as difficult as possible. Eventually, miraculously, the bee flopped out, landing heavily on the garage floor. I bent over it, things didn’t look good, and it remained on its back, moving slowly.

But, it eventually started to right itself and after a few aborted take-offs made it as far as flying to my car just outside the garage. I followed, started offering words of encouragement (I hope the nosey old guy who lives opposite was watching at this moment) and she eventually got enough energy to fly off, wobbly at first but then straight. I hope she found the food she needed, Plungington isn’t exactly a nectar rich haven in the spring. Yet, Godspeed Queen of the Bees! Godspeed!

Why have I typed this up? Why does this merit a blog? 

Well, partly because I got a splendid buzz (whoa, ho ho, ha ha) from the hopefully happy resolution but also because of this:A Sting In The Tale by Dave Goulson

It’s where I got most of the above knowledge about bee nesting and hibernation, and also where I later identified the species of the bee I was helping. I’ve always been interested in bees, they’re fascinating, beautiful creatures but this magical book about the bumblebee really opened my eyes. So much so that as soon as I finished it I joined  The Bumblebee Conservation Trust and have started bombarding relatives/friends with information both about the book and the trust. Several birthday/Christmas presents have been sorted early.

Lots has been written about the decline of the bumblebee’s narky cousin the honey bee – the causes of hive deaths, subsequent problems of crop pollination and the resulting cost to the economy and environment. Yet the bumblebee is also an important pollinator, its hefty weight and varied tongue length allowing it access to pollinate certain species that other bees struggle with. Indeed it’s also crafty enough to bite through the side of a flower if it discovers it can’t fit in the normal way.

The bumblebee has, like the honey bee, suffered similar catastrophic declines in numbers throughout the UK as its food sources – wild flower meadows mainly – have almost vanished from large swathes of the country, mainly because of intensive farming and of course the neglectful ‘money is king’ policies of lawmakers. And house owners haven’t helped, front gardens tarmacked over for car storage, back gardens covered in decking and a patio. Once common species have been lost from these shores and all are at lower numbers than they once were.

You may not care about this: you may not overly give a shit where your food comes from or particularly feel you eat many of these pollywhatinated crops; you may not care for the beauty of a garden/field filled with bees of all species going from one group of flowers to another; you may just be a cunt.

But if you’re none of the above, if you’re a person who enjoys the beauty of nature, who realises its importance not just for the benefit of human life but that the protection and continuation of every single species of plant/animal on this planet is our responsibility then you can all do something to help.

If you have a garden then fill it with flowers that provide food for bees and other insects. Shun the bedding plants, those that have been selectively bred for colour, length of flowering season or hardiness, yet which have become so genetically and physically mangled that they either don’t supply nectar/pollen anymore or else it is impossible for an insect to access it. Most plants are now labelled with a badge saying if they are beneficial to pollinators, choose these over the sterile alternative. 

If your garden is concreted over reclaim it for nature. Fill it with pots containing plants to attract bees. And if you have neither front or back garden then a spot for a pot or window box can probably be found somewhere. Tell your children, educate them about what we’re in danger of losing, change the thinking of governments that put the interests of pesticide companies ahead of the best interests of theplanet, of the economy and humanity. We’re the only ones who can stop them.

It is the duty of us all to look after the planet we live on, to guard it for those that follow. The bee is a symbol for what happens when we don’t take enough care of the planet and about how it can affect us all. Let the fields and gardens of this country be once again filled with the gentle hum of the bee. 

The future prospects of the bee are in our hands, although in my own future, hopefully not when they get stuck in a carrier bag.