The Secret Loss of Bees

There is a family farm in central Virginia that, in addition to providing me with gainful summertime employment, serves as a small patch of paradise for all insects that buzz and bumble.  To the average field hand, the fruits and flowers of this farm guarantee another day of laboring in the sun for salable produce.  To the average honeybee, however, these plants offer a sticky sweet smorgasbord of pleasure.  The lavender induces a state of bee-zen, so that the harvester can gently push aside a bee with her hand without fear of being stung.  The sage bushes host a buzzing, bacchanalian revelry, and the deep orange squash blossoms invite a pollen-to-pollenator embrace that is nothing short of erotic.  It's 50 acres of honey heaven.

Sage and squash plants: everything's PG from a distance.

(Fields at Manakintowne Specialty Growers,

image by Staige Davis)

Sadly, not all of America's bees live such vibrant and blissful lives.  In fact, the last few decades have seen astounding loss in the U.S. bee population, as high as 96 percent.  Investigation into the cause of such wide-scale death is complicated by the fact that there are a great number of things that can wipe out a whole colony of bees, and few of these causes are straightforward.

Wanted: preferably alive.

(Apis mellifera, image by John  D.)

A few culprits are easy enough to identify.  The vampiric Varroa jacobsoni mite has proven particularly damaging to the European honeybees (Apis mellifera) that were established in North America with the colonists.  Tracheal mites (Acarapis woodi) inhabit the bees' respiratory system and slowly suffocate bees from the inside out.  Most bees that are infested with these parasites technically die from viruses that take advantage of the bees in their weakened state.

Scientists call it the Varroa destructor.  Seriously.

Tracheal mites give new meaning to

the term "a tickle in your throat."

Other culprits are more complex.  Monoculture crop production, which dominates American agriculture, eliminates weeds and other crops that serve as both valuable foraging plants and natural habitat for wild and domesticated bees.  Additionally, conventional agriculture relies on heavy pesticide application, which kills beneficial pollinators as well as pest insects.  The irony is that many of these crops cannot develop without the assistance of pollination by bees, so farmers are forced to import bee hives from all corners of the country and globe to pollenate their crops.  (It's a nerdgasm-inducing global exchange of ecological resources.  Read more about the migratory beekeeping industry and California almond production here.  Check out a documentary here.)

Think of the bee as almond flower Viagra.

*Call your entomologist if pollination lasts longer than 4 hours.

But the most mysterious of all bee killers may also be the most worrisome.  2006 saw particularly high declines in bee population.  Beekeepers reported finding their hives completely devoid of all adult bees with no explanation.  No dead bees on the ground.  No signs of infestation.  The bees simply gone.  This veritable bee-Rapture was christened "colony collapse disorder" (CCD) in 2007, and scientists continue to investigate the causes with no definitive answers.  It's a tragedy that evokes the sort of mournful folk tunes my grandfather used to sing.

Bee-Rapture is a serious threat.

(Image by Lenin and McCarthy)

The folk tune and biblical billboard may seem melodramatic, but one-third of food eaten in America depends on bee-pollenation.  The list probably includes some of your favorite fruits and veggies such as apples, oranges, cherries, blueberries, cranberries, plums, avocados, raspberries, blackberries, almonds, anything that grows on a vine- squash, zucchini, watermelon, pumpkins, cantaloupe, and on, and on, and on.  If you're getting anywhere near your recommended 5 to 7 daily veggie servings, then you eat bee-pollenated foods.  To learn more about CCD and the disappearance of America's bees, check out these resources from Ohio State University, join The Honeybee Conservancy, or consider a do-it-at-home project like a bee garden.  Or take it from someone who really knows his stuff, and check out this idea worth spreading from Dennis vanEngelsdorp.

The meadow he talks about at the end of his presentation?  That's otherwise known as a freedom lawn!  Maybe we can't all offer the honeybees a conjugal bed of tender squash blossoms, but perhaps we can all agree that no one in their right mind needs to mow their lawn in July.  It's flippin' hot out there.