The Physical Exam

It's 3 weeks since we saw the last activity in our Beepol nest and 2 weeks since I took advantage of help from my brother to dismantle the nest and lodge and photograph it.

It was really quite an interesting experience and much more pleasant than dismantling the Koppert box we had earlier in the season. That box was infested with wax moth and was in a fairly unpleasant state. In contrast the Beepol box was uninfested and fully intact, complete with all evidence of several colonies having existed (as we observed).

As we lifted the lid of the lodge there was a pleasant (though faded) smell of honey, mingled with the typically waxy odour. We could immediately see just how high the bedding had been raised since it was first added: underneath was a complete substructure of wax pots and pillars and the ceiling layer of bedding had been lined with a thin layer of wax too.

Peeling back the ceiling revealed a tall, compact cluster of we pots built by our last (third) queen. As expected, these pots were nearly all quite small and less well developed due the the September, October and November temperatures.

waxpots, still with honey; some still sealed; pollen in the background

Most of them had hatched, which of course accounted for all those tiny bumblebees we saw and rescued and surprisingly, only one or two were unhatched. You can see a small, prominent, fully intact wax pot in the pictures. Many of the dead bees In the box were very small too, again, part of the overall pattern.

The distinction between 'levels' in the box was very prominent too. The original colony had suffered heat damage at the base of the nest and the wax was a darker brown colour and more roughly textured. It was very buried below the added bedding and a whole new upper layer of fresher, more yellow wax from the subsequent colony. There was no doubt at (at least) two distinct colonies developed in the nest.

undeveloped bumblebee eggs in a wax pot

We also tried to find the 3 queens we expected to be in the box - and we did indeed find 3 larger bumblebees although they looked surprisingly shrunken and reduced in size in their still and curled up unfuzzy state, to the extent I would have struggled to perhaps recognise them as queens if I hadn't already known they should be in there. [The backstory: The original 'mother' queen had come out of the nest to die, but one of her brood had stayed on permanently and started brooding. She seemed to get to weak or too large to leave the nest and died inside. But another 3 queens also turned up in succession and two of those seemed to brood. We did of course rescue last one of these and she died in our care, but the other two also died in the nest.]

Something that was completely new to me in this nest was a number of wax pots broken open with a white sticky substance in them. In some pots it looked like a solid mass, but in others was quite clearly composed of smaller lumps and 'clumps'. It seemed these would be eggs or early larvae of some kind, but what I wasn't sure was whether this was from a moth (we'd seen one or two in the nest) or flies (also seen inside). I turned to my expert at Dragonfli, suppliers of the Beepol nest, and he confirmed this appeared to be bumblebee eggs. Until now I had assumed that only one egg was laid per wax pot, but he confirmed that actually they do lay half a dozen to a dozen eggs in a pot then seal them in with some pollen..

There were quite a number of pots in this condition, symptomatic of a very busy queen who was struggling against the odds to get a brood to develop to critical mass. Sadly she never made it because her offspring could just not develop successfully in the cold temperatures of October and November. She kept trying day after day, and indeed, pretty much died trying - but it could never be.

So, this represents the end of the 2011 season, although the work is not complete as we clear up and decommission our setup (nest. CCTV etc), write it all up and then begin to prepare for the 2012 season.

Finally, a picture of a developing larvae as it starts to reach the callow stage. I removed her from a sealed wax pot. You can see the wings are not quite developed yet and the usual white down actually has a warm golden colour. Whilst sad, for me there is something starkly beautiful about this picture... 

A faded Poppy

She lived for about 7 days, but on November 30th 2011 our last surviving Bumblebee died peacefully. The day before we had decided to name her Poppy to coincide with the month of remembrance. 

We had really hoped she would live a little longer having rescued her and brought her indoors - but she had a tough start to life in a very cold nest with little or no food. We rescued her directly from the nest when we saw her on her lying on her back on the nest CCTV. 

Of course, there is always the question of whether our actions were a cause, but we'll never know - but we were able to provide warmth, food and (we believe) a sterile environment for her. Indeed, there is no question that with temperatures dropping to a few degrees outside, there was no chance of her surviving outdoors. We had hoped she might live longer, knowing that Holly, our first rescued bumble, lived for 70 days).

It's a particularly sad moment because she is the last of all of our broods and thus symbolic of the end of the 2011 bumblebee season; which has gone on for an extraordinarily long period of time. (September is typically quoted as the end of the season; Poppy almost made it to December). 

She, like all our other "in care" bumbles, had her own distinctive personality, though we never got chance to really see it develop as we hoped (and also thus validate our earlier observations). We've seen all our rescued bees go through phases of exploration, adoption, protection and role evolution. Poppy was pretty laid back - after a day or two of warnings and uncertainty when we tended to her, she became much more relaxed and started spending her time overnight looking after her living space and resting more during the day.

She was never especially active, though she could fairly move when she wanted to and she thrilled us with her occasional buzzing (fanning); she also loved to snuggle up near to the warm wheat bag we placed against the outside of her tub,  In retrospect it seems she suffered a slow decline over several days, thankfully not (at least from our observations) a distressing one - resting more and gradually slowing down to a stop. 

In her final moments she tried to seek shelter under the small piece of card we placed in her box, her instincts for protection of herself and the nest as a whole still intact. She never quite had the strength to force herself underneath it. She curled up with her tiny fluffy white tail looking bright and cheerful. A fitting end. 

Outr thougths now turn to cleaning out the nest and lodge - after a week of no activity inside it we can be fairly sure nothing else is going to happen. We already know from a sneak peek that there is a wonderful construction of wax pots and bedding, which I hope to photograph in detail in due course, before a full clean out. After that there is the task of writing up what we have learned and analysing statistics and behaviour before considering next year's project as the new year beckons. 

I think we're probably hooked.

fan-tastic

It's been very quiet in the nest outdoors for the last two days. "Quiet" meaning no activity at all, save for a small moth that seems to have been in there a few weeks - and doesn't seem to have done any harm. 

It's cold now, down to 3 degrees or so overnight at times and only peaking at about 12 degrees during the day, so we don't expect any activity and we certainly don't hold out any hope for any larvae in their wax pots that had been developing. In fact today I took the decision to remove the small infrared lamps from underneath the lodge. Chances are they were have no useful effect anyway, not to mention they are only partly functional.

Notwithstanding, we've left the nest intact for now, just in case. We've been surprised so many times this year, that we will just wait a week or so and be sure there is no life left in the lodge. Then we'll have the (fairly) gruesome job of cleaning it out and examining just how much work our 4 queens and their workers have done. We've contemplated sealing the lodge and placing it in the garage - still monitored by CCTV - just as the final stage. 

However, indoors we have a happier tale. Our tiny rescued indoor bumble, the last survivor of the nest was rescued two days ago and has survived indoors for two full nights and is now entering her third. At times she's caused us a little concern with her stillness, but in general she's been agile and we've seen her take a very good drink today, so she's getting nourishment.  

Of course her rhythms will be all over the place as she has no siblings to work with; has 5 or 6 fewer hours of daylight than would be the case in summer; is not in a fully sealed/dark location and, indeed, is subject to the artificial lighting in our home. Although we do try and maintain a fixed routine of light to help her rhythms. Having said that, it is already established that bumblebee Circadian Rhythms are rather elastic: while forgaging has to take place during daylight, we've observed much activity that takes place over night. (Take our little bee that spent 7 hours through the night fixing up the nest bedding we added!). There's lots that happens through the night, so we shouldn't be surprised if our little guest rests during the day from time to time. 

We've been helping to heat her tub a little by placing it near or on a microwaveable wheat bag, just to improve the ambient temperature. We noticed today she was particulalry responding to this - when the bag is intially hot she moves away from it to another part of the tub. When it is at a nicely warm temperature she comes and tucks up towards it as close as she can get (through the plastic box of course). You can see an example of this in the picture below. 

little bee warming up close to the wheat bag outside her tubWe noticed at one point we probably made the wheat bag too warm and she very quickly scooted off to the other side of the box! It confirms the bumbles are sensitive to temperature and definitely have a favourite comfort zone. 

In case you are wondering, for this very reason we don't heat the whole box, just a region of it. This means she has the freedom to find the perfect spot in the temperature gradient. We've also added materials she can climb on and get right away from the floor of the tub, such as a "bridge" made from a cardboard toilet roll inner-tube. We saw her climb it today which was entertaining to see! And tonight she is tucked up sleeping underneath it - perhaps she feels secure with something over her head.

We've also noticed that she tracks the temperature gradient as the box cools down. To start with she is typically tucked up close to the edge of the wheat bag, where the rest of the tub is cool. Gradually she moves as the wheat bag cools, until, as in the picture above, she is tucked up to the now-warmest part at the front of the box. Just like Holly she seems to like the warmth. 

Finding her wings

Mid morning we noticed she was stretching flapping her wings. While it's good to see her wings are well-formed, it creates a dilemma for us, because we've only ever kept bees indoors that couldn't fly. If she could fly we would feel like she was being unfairly caged - and yet she would have no chance of survival outdoors; there are no flowers in the vicinity for nectar, and one cold night could see her off. And she is so, so small, that her energy stores are small - meaning she needs to top up regularly (a bit like the way a baby has to feed regularly).  

We discussed the concept of being able to exercise her natural instincts (i.e. freedom to fly outdoors) versus a warm and secure environment meaning less stress on her body. While she might have instincts to leave the nest and forage, this is not an experience she has ever known and the stress to her system would be huge. We concluded that it is reasonable and right to keep her safe indoors.

As we watched her behaviour, wondering if she was indeed trying to take off, I realised her activity patterns matched something I have seen before: it looked like she was "fanning". This is what bumblebees do to try and regulate their nest temperature, especially when it is getting too hot - and it's something we managed to catch on video.

We noticed that she was moving around the box to the various temperature zones she'd already picked out and then buzzing her wings for a few minutes. On occasions it looked like she was moving to one spot, fanning to move the warm air around, then moving to a cooler spot for a few seconds to check the temperature, then coming back to where she had been and starting again. It certainly looked like she was trying to even out the temperature in the tub. What we can't be sure is if she was trying to make the warm zone cooler, or the cool zone warmer - but she was fanning in the warm zone.

Other factors made it look like she wasn't really trying to take off: she was often up against the tub (so much so her wings were catching it) and facing the wrong way; and the tell-tale sound was that of her wings "fizzing" in the air, rather than her thorax buzzing, which is what gives bumeblebees their disctinctive "throaty" buzz when they fly.  There's a certain stance too and a certain way of spreading their wings which, I presume, increase surface area. 

It's very quiet, but I was able to record the sound of her fanning on my iPhone - you can play it below:

Baby Bumblebee Buzzing.egg on Aviary.

If we are right, then there are two things I find amazing about this:

• Nothing has taught her this - this is inbuilt, instinctive behaviour to use her wings to control the temperature of her environment. She's not had any time with live siblings and not seen this behaviour. It's totally in her genes. 
• It means she has accepted the tub as her nest - so, even though it is missing many features, such as a Queen, other siblings, wax pots, the right smells, the right lighting, and even an exit(!), she must have accepted this is "home". This means, that although we can't let her outdoors, she can play out her nest instincts and do some of what nature intended. That makes it a little easier to accept we have her in a closed environment indoors. 

We just take each day as it comes now - every one is a bonus, for her and for us. As the remaining survivor of her family line we hope she can hang around for a little while yet. 

The gift of security & dignity

It's just over a week since my last update and - as has become the stock phrase of our encounter with bumblebees - it's been another week of surprises.

In the last installment our Queen (the 4th one to brood in succession) had been rescued and brought indoors, though was in a very weak and poor state of health, precariously perched on the lip of the nest.

rescuing our last queen - motionless for hours on the nest lipI was rushing off on business and sadly while I was away she died.

The last of our queens - wonderfully brightly coloured

At the time we were still "leaving room for surprises" and we were wise to do so. When I got home I scanned the CCTV as usual and discovered that the day after a small new bumblebee was crawling about inside the nest - a brand new hatchling, the remaining legacy of our queen.

That was the thursday and she was visible for just a few minutes. On the friday she was visible again, this time on the outside ledge of the nest. From the CCTV it was impossible to see how she'd got there and indeed how she suddenly disappeared. My heart sank at the thought she might have fallen from the ledge, and we know only too well that if this happens we inevitably lose the bee. (They typically crawl off into the lawn, never to be found - or to be found by the birds). She was in a very sorry, bedraggled state, so sadly we had to accept that without knowing where she was, there was no prospect of finding and saving her. 

On Saturday we then went out to bury the Queen and as a matter of routine I checked around the nest. To my astonishment I saw little new bee flailing deep in the grass (badly needing cutting too!) She and the grass were soaking wet and she looked in terrible condition. We quickly rescued her and brought her inside to warm up. We offered both sugar water and honey water to see which she chose. She totally ignored the sugar water and gorged herself on the honey water - presumably she had been out on the lawn for 2 whole days, freezing cold, without sustenance. We were so glad to have rescued her. 

She really perked up and we could see she would unable to fly due to her imperfectly formed wings (slightly bent). We added bedding and after going through the usual stages of exploring her tub, then claiming ownership of it, she took great delight in "nest fixing" - i.e. weaving the hamster bedding into wonderful circular swirls. It is amazing to see, both in action and as an end result. (here's an earlier example). 

On Wednesday we woke to find her quite lethargic and uninterested in her food - never a good sign. I took her into my office to keep warm - but as you can see she was not looking healthy, but crumpled and untidy. 

"baby bumble" in a sorry stateLater that evening she died. 

You'd think that was the end of the story - I certainly did. But what I discovered going over the latest CCTV footage from the previous two days (I was away from home) was that yet another baby bumble had emerged inside the nest. I feared greatly for her survivial, because on camera she was shaky, fell over on her back and was clearly not in good condition. Not surprising with no food to be had. BCW had a look in the nest to try and find her, we even tried to heat it up with the halogen garden heater to encourage her to get on the move - but nothing. Again we resigned ourself to the fact she was probably buried deep in the nest, destined never to see the light of day.

The today BCW popped her head into the CCTV room and exclaimed - is that a bee??!! It was.  She was on her back, miraculously balanced on a plastic rim inside the box. We already thought she was probably dead. Without hestiation BCW went out to scoop her from the nest and bring her indoors. She too was in a very sorry state and we both thought there was no chance for her. 

Our bumeblebees are amazing fighters - every one of them has been - several of them have shown Lazarus-like recoveries. This latest addition was no different - within an hour she was scooting round her tub and bedding as if it was silverstone, a remarkable turnaround from what seemed like moments from death.  

She is quiet and fairly still again tonight as I write, snuggled up against the warm wheat bag we have placed against the outside of the tub. She's alive, she's had some nutrition, but we don't know if she'll be here in the morning. But at least we know she is safe and warm and not going to freeze to death.

Our last surviving bumble?

She will never meet her mum, she will never fulfil her destiny, she will never know the thrill of fresh air rushing over her wings, she will have a short life.

But we will give her security and dignity. It's the least, and sadly the most, we can do.

Over-throne

After the return of our prodigal queen, I think we were still in shock for a few days. She stayed out again the first night, perhaps in an act of defiant rebellion. But that actually allowed us the chance to look in the nest at midnight on Saturday and see what was going on in there.

There are a lot of dead bees but thankfully no apparent infestation of anything. And the height of the bedding and new wax pots is remarkable. Remember, this is all part of a second / third colony that has developed in the earlier nest due to the 'favourable' weather/climate conditions, something that 'shouldn't really be there'.

We filmed our exploration of the nest for the 'Britain in a day' film project. Be great if it makes it to the final film!

The following day queen returned and after that remained in the nest at night.

During that time we also got two glimpses of yet another new (i.e. previously unaccounted for) bumble mooching about in the nest. Astonishing that half way through November there is still the miracle of birth.

Sadly, though, she has no prospects. There is no food for her to find any more and chances are she can't fly anyway, and is likely to be under developed. Indeed, although she hasn't left the nest, we've seen no more of her.

It certainly lifted our spirits for a while until the next bizarre instalment on Monday. Our queen came out onto the nest ledge at 7 in the morning and just stayed there for hours. Eventually mid-morning BCW went out to offer some honey and sugar water, and queen lapped it up. After this she was slightly more energetic and crept info the entrance tube (but not back into the nest). Something was not right.

She spent the best part of the next 24 hours in this 'nest limbo' and we wondered if she had perished in there. The question was answered by discovering her this afternoon hanging onto the ledge again, at one point by just one leg.

Frustratingly I was heading off on business to Dublin and couldn't intervene, but BCW took excellent command of the situation.

Queenie was clearly in a bad way: terribly weak and lethargic, suddenly looking like 120 years old. We were not hopeful. Although she was seemingly trying to get back to the nest, she didn't have the energy to do so. She fell. Thankfully into a tub that BCW had in waiting.

We took her inside to get warm and fed and despite initial signs of improvement has deteriorated further and quite significantly. She's been through a recognisable period of struggle and agitation that seems to be common to many of the dying bees we've cared for. It's horrible to see any creature go through this.

The end, it would seem is nigh.

I am really very sad. Firstly because it's a horrible lingering death for her. But foremost because we had hopes that she might survive the winter and go on to have a successful colony in spring.

Sadly that won't happen. She's attempted a colony too soon, in the wrong season, because the weather has been so mild. That colony could never develop properly in winter, so she has been cruelly tricked into doing what she is programmed to do: be a mother.

What, I think, we've also learned, is that queens do not change role. Once they have started brooding they will continue to so, even if conditions prevail against them; to the death.

This happens in the normal course of events (usually about August time), when after laying daughter queens, a mother queen can be driven from her own nest while she also succumbs to age and dies a natural death, at an age of 12 -16 months or so.

It looks like that even at an age of just two months, our queen has inherited the same fate. Perhaps the completion of egg laying triggers a natural demise, regardless of age. Either way, the prospect of hibernation and a second brood in spring is a impossibility. It always was a fond hope.

This has been an astonishing and incredible journey. We've never been so close to nature, so bewitched and entranced by the daily activities of our buzzy bumbly friends. Their hidden world has been a constant source of fascination and intrigue. There is still room for a surprise, I'm sure: we've been treated to those many times. But for now we feel a pang of sorrow for the end of an era.