PLIGHT OF THE BUMBLEBEE (From the Bugclub Newsgroup)

Can anyone help me with this? My neighbour has had bumblebees with deformed wings crawling to his backdoor; two or three a day for several days. He can't find a nest but lives close to a field boundary and some rough ground. What's happened to the bumblebees? He looked at one under a microscope and saw a white 6-legged crab-like parasite about 1/4 the size of the bee's eye. Is that anything to do with it?

What should he do?
Thanks and best wishes
David Newland

EDITOR'S NOTE: Many thanks to David for letting us reprint this

RAREST AMERICAN BUMBLEBEE REDISCOVERED

http://mobugs.blogspot.com/2011/12/rarest-bumblebee-in-us-rediscovered.html





An elusive bumblebee, which was last seen in 1956, was recently found living in the White Mountains of south-central New Mexico, scientists announced Monday

Read on...

D.R.SHOOP: The Waggle Dance of the Honeybee

http://youtu.be/bFDGPgXtK-U

How can honeybees communicate the locations of new food sources? Austrian biologist Karl Von Frisch devised an experiment to find out! By pairing the direction of the sun with the flow of gravity, honeybees are able to explain the distant locations of food by dancing. "The Waggle Dance of the Honeybee" details the design of Von Frisch's famous experiment and explains the precise grammar of the honeybees dance language with high quality visualizations.









This video is a design documentary, developed by scientists at Georgia Tech's College of Computing in order to better understand and share with others, the complex behaviors that can arise in social insects. Their goal at the Multi-Agent Robotics and Systems (MARS) Laboratory is to harness new computer vision techniques to accelerate biologists' research in animal behavior. This behavioral research is then used, in turn, to design better systems of autonomous robots.









For additional detail on the MARS lab at Georgia Tech, please visit http://www.bio-tracking.org/.

ROBERT SCHNECK: Bee College

It might not be the Weird Weekend, but the University of Florida's Bee College is held annually at St. Augustine Florida, and looks like a great way to spend two days. I mention Weird Weekend because, like the CFZ, the Bee College encourages young people and amateurs to get seriously involved in studying animals. An important topic for discussion this year was native bees and how to encourage them to nest and act as pollinators. Learn more and get their brochure at:

http://entnemdept.ifas.ufl.edu/honeybee/extension/bee_college.shtml

VANISHING OF THE BEES - Official Trailer

MATTHEW WILLIAMS SENT THIS: Wikileaks and the bee conspiracy

While the WikiLeaks media frenzy may have been focused on the release of tens of thousands of classified military and U.S. State Department documents, it's a leaked Environmental Protection Agency document that has conservationists, environmentalists and beekeepers abuzz.

The November 2nd memo, leaked to a Colorado beekeeper, indicates that the EPA was well-aware that the pesticide Clothianidin posed some serious risks to honey bees. There have been concerns about this chemical from as far back as 2003, and it's already been banned in Germany, France, Italy and Slovenia because of its toxicity. But the EPA chose to sweep all that under the rug to keep the pesticide on the market.

Clothianidin, marketed as 'Poncho' by Bayer, is widely used on corn, as well as canola, soy, sugar beets, sunflowers and wheat. As if the $262 million cash crop from last year wasn't enough, Bayer wants to keep expanding the pesticide's use. And the company's original registration was based on some seriously flawed science: they evaluated the wrong crop, with the wrong controls to assess the impact on bees.

This all adds up to some serious questions about the government contributing to Colony Collapse Disorder as they knowingly allowed Bayer to poison bees. And this is about a lot more than honey production ... native habitats and as much as one third of America's food supply rely on the pollination provided by bees.

In light of the leaked memo the National Honey Bee Advisory Board, American Beekeeping Federation, American Honey Producers Association, Beyond Pesticides, Pesticide Action Network North America, and Center for Biological Diversity sent a letter to the EPA requesting that the agency 'take urgent action to stop the use of this toxic chemical.'

The letter goes on to point out that this new information indicates an overuse of the Office of Pesticide Program's conditional registration programme. This bee boondoggle 'represents a failure that could and should have been avoided.' As a result the coalition is calling for an immediate moratorium on these types of registration until the programme is evaluated.

There's still a lot we don't know about Colony Collapse Disorder and the massive bee die-offs it's been causing. One thing we do know is that bees are in trouble, and that's not good news for all the animals (and humans) who rely on the plants these important insects sustain.

Join the call for the EPA to stop the sale of Poncho and conduct a thorough study into the pesticide's impact on wildlife.

See:
http://animals.change.org/blog/view/wikileaks_uncovers_government_bee_killing_conspiracy

MIKE HALLOWELL: A Verdant interloper

This year I suggested to Jackie that we camped at the Weird Weekend instead of staying at a B&B or a hotel. This shocked Mrs H as she knows that I am not the world's greatest outdoors person and that I am as keen on camping as I am on athlete's foot, which is not very much.

We booked up with the Dyke Green Camp Site in Clovelly, which is managed by a thoroughly nice chap called Mr Johns. We had a terrific time, except for the wasps. Jackie doesn't mind wasps but I can't stand the little buggers. Bees are different for like the German Stukas of WWII, they have a siren that warns you of their imminent approach. Wasps are different. They are silent but deadly, and serve no useful purpose other than to piss off this blogger.

On a regular basis they would fly into our tent via a small aperture at ground level and buzz around my head. Mrs H asked me why I didn't simply, "psychically tell them to go". I said I'd much rather physically twat them with a rolled-up newspaper.

But we also had another little visitor. On Monday morning, just before we set off for home, Jackie noticed what she at first thought was a grasshopper in our tent. On closer examination, however, we realised that it was nothing of the sort. It was, in fact, a ladybird-like beetle the likes of which we'd never seen in Geordieland. It was grass-green in colour and quite happy to walk about on your hand.

Our verdant interloper was quite cute, actually, but we haven't a clue what it is. I've attached two photographs, and I'd be interested to hear from readers regarding what it might have been….

MIKE HALLOWELL: The Great Bee Event of '33

Bees are little creatures with a furry body. They can fly and specialise in making an edible substance called honey, which is completely unsuitable for diabetics like myself. The bastards. They also possess a sharp, needle-like appendage that is technically known as 'a pointy thing.' This is used to attack children, gardeners, women hanging out their washing and drunken persons who mistake beehives for footballs, which is Not A Very Clever Thing To Do.

Every year, a swarm of honeybees nests in a wall cavity at the rear of Casa Hallowell. One can see them entering and exiting through a small hole in between two wall-bricks. What they do inside I do not know, and to date neither Mrs. H nor I have been invited in to watch. It's all very mysterious.

But not as mysterious as something which happened on June 15, 1833, at the village of Todstead, near Rothbury.
Mrs. Gibb – for it was she – was going about her daily business that morning when a bee landed upon her head. Being a seasoned country lass and well accustomed to such creatures, this did not discomfit her too much. However, the several thousand other bees which followed it did. Within seconds her entire head was covered in the things.

Initially her husband assumed that his missus was simply suffering from a bad case of cystic acne, but when he noticed that the pustules were actually moving around and making strange buzzing noises he realised that it was not acne at all, but something quite different; a surfeit of bees.

"Here, mate", he said to a passer-by, "would you look at that! My wife's head is covered in bees!"

"Bloody hell, you're right! Are they stinging her?"

"Well, she isn't screaming or anything. She better get the situation sorted out sharpish, though, because she needs to get those potatoes on to boil for lunch. We're having hotpot".

Always one to make a full-blown drama out of a crisis, Mrs. Gibb started waving her arms around theatrically and bumping into things.

"This is getting embarrassing", said Mr. Gibb. "People are looking".

The passer-by – for it was he – came up with a plan.

"Here, there's supposed to be a special bee in those swarms you know. It’s a female, called the Dolly Bird Bee, or something".

"You mean the Queen Bee?"

"Aye, something like that".

"And?"

"Well, Farmer Brown told me that all the bloke bees have the hots for her".

"And this is pertinent to my wife's current predicament how, exactly?"

"Its obvious, innit? Watch…."

The passer-by walked over to the now extremely distressed Mrs. Gibb and stared intently at her face, or more accurately the swarm of bees clinging to it.

"I can see her".

"Well I can't. Her face is covered in bloody bees".

"Not your wife, you nackerheed*, the Queen Bee".

"How do you know it’s the Queen Bee?"

"She's wearing a thong and false eyelashes".

"Oh…"

Now at this juncture, the passer-by, whose name has unfortunately been left unrecorded in the tomes of Geordie history, did a very brave thing. He reached out with his hand – yes, his hand – and plucked the Queen Bee from the chez lounge upon which she reclined.

"Jeez", said Mr. Gibb, "What are you going to do with her?"

"I've got an empty hive in my garden. I'm going to put her in there".

"Why have you got a hive in your garden?"

"I saw how to make on Blue Peter years ago".

"Oh…"

Now the passer-by waltzed off with the Queen Bee in his hand towards his garden. The other bees in the swarm – particularly the horny bloke ones – were really pissed off at this. They all wanted to sit and ogle the Queen Bee and harbour naughty thoughts about her. Now their plans had been ruined. It was the bee equivalent of having your stash of porn videos stolen.

Within an instant, the entire swarm vacated the visage of Mrs. Gibb and followed the passer-by to his garden. As soon as he got there he whipped off the lid of the hive and put the Queen Bee inside. The other bees followed, and then he stuck the lid back on.

"Hah!" he said triumphantly.

Meanwhile, back at the village green, Mr. Gibb eyed up his missus intently.

"There's still a dozen-or-so of the critters on your face, petal", he mumbled, "but they aren't moving. I think they're dead".

"Thems not bees. Thems my acne", his good lady replied.

"Good; now get your arse home and get those taties on for the hotpot".

Epilogue
Mrs. Gibb, according to Fordyce's Historical Register of Remarkable Events, did not suffer a single sting during her entire experience.

Mr. Gibb was served his hotpot at lunch, and got to the pub well in time to listen the match on the widescreen radio.

The passer-by advertised the swarm of bees on Bee-Bay as a, "living, ugly-wife mask" and sold it for an absolute fortune.

In Geordieland, cystic acne later became known as Gibb's Syndrome or Buzzings Disease.

Every year on June 15, locals celebrate "the Great Bee Event of '33", as it is the only interesting thing that ever happened there. Apart from the time when that other bloke did that thing in the woods with the milk churn, which was also a bit interesting. And that other time, when Mrs. Rafferty's dog did one in the bar of Ye Olde Knuckleduster. And that other bloke stood in it. They were interesting. But not as much as the Great Bee Event of '33…
________________________
*Nackerheed: A Geordie colloquialism, which literally translates as, "a man with a head that looks suspiciously like his own scrotum"; essentially, an idiot.

LIZ CLANCY: Support your local beekeeper! (if you have one)

The National Beekeepers Association are running an 'Adopt a beehive' scheme in order to help combat the severe problems British keepers are having with their populations. The money raised will go towards research into the health of honey bees, as well as educational work for beekeepers. It's an important cause because, according to the website, as much as a third of the mouthfuls of food we eat depends on honey bees because of their vital role in pollination, so even if you don't eat honey, you eat because of our little black and yellow pals.

To adopt one hive costs £29.50 a year, which (as the Daily Express points out) is cheaper than adopting a leopard, and you can find out more about this terribly important cause by visiting


http://www.adoptabeehive.co.uk/

Hope for Some British Bees... but Not Others.

According to my copy of First News the rare southern cuckoo bee has been seen in St Abbs, Berwickshire, Scotland by Bob Dawson of the Bumblebee Trust.

British bees have been on the decline for quite some time now; one of the reasons cited in the article was the diminishing number of flowers growing in the wild. The article also informs its junior readers that the cuckoo bee gets its name because they move into nests belonging to other bees, just as the female cuckoo will lay her egg in another bird's nest.

On the other hand, Stranraer, southwest Scotland, has seen an outbreak of American Foulbred, which is a disease affecting honey bees.

LIZ CLANCY: Go tell the bees

It is always nice to be able to introduce you all to a new guest blogger. Possibly the nicest thing about the CFZ bloggo is that it is a living, breathing community, and new people arrive on a regular basis. I can't tell you anything about Liz, apart from the fact that she bought some books from us at Uncon, briefly spoke to Richard, and had a charmingly old-fashioned habit of referring to me as `Mr Downes`, when everyone else calls me `Jon` or `Hey You` (or somethimes something more scatological), until I told her not to. She is obviously one to watch...

I was not an ordinary little girl. My friends mithered their parents for puppies and ponies. I wanted a hive of bees. To be fair, beekeeping is in my blood. My late Grandad, Cyril, always wanted bees (Gran put her foot down, though; I think she thought 4 cats, 3 ducks, 2 dogs, several chickens, a shedful of pigeons, 2 mice and a rabbit were quite enough of a menagerie!) and his father, Tom and Grandfather, William had kept honey bees on their farm on the Brecon in Wales.

As a little boy, when old Will died, my Grandfather accompanied his Dad and witnessedm in practice, an old beekeeping custom said to prevent newly keeper-less bees from swarming: after warning little Cyril to wait at a safe distance, Tom went to one of the hives (bravely without any protective gear!) and knocked three times on it's side. According to Grandad all buzzing stopped and in the ensuing silence Tom announced "Your master is dead. I'm your master now." Several 'scouts' came out of the hive and hovered around Tom's face for some minutes before disappearing back inside the hive. Soon after this the buzzing started again. Tom then went to all the other hives in turn and repeated the same process. From then on my Great Grandfather was able to take over full responsibility of looking after the colonies and harvesting the honey.

Science is not my strong point but since bees communicate with each other using pheromones I can only assume they picked up on a 'grief signal' from the son of their late keeper and understood that Will had gone. Whatever the case, in memory of my three bee-loving ancestors, if ever I get a big enough garden, I intend to continue the family tradition.

LIZ CLANCY: Bees Make Honey

It is always nice to be able to introduce you all to a new guest blogger. Possibly the nicest thing about the CFZ bloggo is that it is a living, breathing community, and new people arrive on a regular basis. I can't tell you anything about Liz, apart from the fact that she bought some books from us at Uncon, briefly spoke to Richard, and had a charmingly old-fashioned habit of referring to me as `Mr Downes`, when everyone else calls me `Jon` or `Hey You` (or somethimes something more scatological), until I told her not to. She is obviously one to watch...

There's a more immediate problem with the shortage of honey bees than impending Armageddon. I and many like me rely on local honey to cure symptoms of asthma and rhinitis because often conventional medicine is just not good enough (believe it or not you can overdose on a reliever inhaler, which is easy to do when the recommended two puffs fail to make you breathe).

I bought my honey from a shop in Rochdale for years until last year the beekeeper was forced to retire when ALL the bees in his hives died or deserted. For months I struggled as he was the only beekeeper for miles (supermarket honey, for some reason, can make things worse). I recently found another beekeeper a little closer to my home but who charges a fortune because his bees, too, are dying off and he's struggling to make ends meet.

I would urge all CFZ readers to follow the advice in yesterdays article (http://cryptozoologynews.blogspot.com/2009/05/bee-population-collapse-could-be-saved.html or see Oll's link to is in "yesterdays news today" post) in order to help honey bee populations to rise. It's not difficult and will help not only those with respiratory and other health problems but also the whole of life on Earth if the worst case scenario we've been told of is to be believed.