Read Online A Sting in the Tale by Dave Goulson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dave Goulson
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overheating of the nest can be a problem in warm weather. If the nest becomes too warm, or if carbon dioxide levels climb too high, some workers will station themselves in the entrance and fan hot air out of the nest, acting like miniature air-conditioning units. Different bees have different temperature thresholds for beginning fanning behaviour; if the nest is slightly too hot, only one or two bees fan. If the temperature continues to rise, more and more join in. This very simple mechanism enables large nests to regulate their temperature very precisely, keeping it to within 1°C of 30°C day and night.
The ability of established bumblebee colonies to keep warm is most impressive. I once was looking for the kindest way to dispose of a colony of Turkish buff-tailed bumblebees â factory-reared bees which could not be released into the wild in the UK as they are not native here â and decided that freezing them was probably the best option. I placed the nest in its entirety in a domestic freezer at -30°C. The next day I came back to find the colony very much alive and buzzing loudly; the workers had gathered into a tight clump over the brood and were presumably shivering at maximum capacity. The queen was hidden in their centre, and seemed quite unperturbed.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Brief History of Bees
Let us travel back in time 135 million years. The vast supercontinent of Gondwana was beginning to break up, with South America drifting off to the west of Africa, and Australia moving majestically off to the east. Antarctica decided to head south, dooming all but the most adaptable of its inhabitants to an eventual icy grave. The South Atlantic and Indian Oceans were slowly forming.
At this ancient time, an era known to geologists as the Cretaceous, the continents were clothed in green forests of tree ferns, cycads, huge horsetails, and conifers such as pines and cedars. This was the height of the reign of the dinosaurs, although not the species that are so well known to schoolchildren the world over: amongst the trees, herds of vast herbivores such as Iguanodon grazed, standing on their hind legs to reach higher foliage; heavily armoured, tank-like species such as Gastonia bulldozed through the undergrowth; and packs of ferocious meat-eaters such as Utahraptor hunted their prey. The air swarmed with primitive insects including oversized dragonflies and early butterflies, and this was also the heyday of the pterosaurs, the largest animals ever to fly above the earth, with wingspans up to 12 metres. Much smaller dinosaurs had also taken to the air; feathers, probably first evolved to help these little creatures keep warm, became elongated on their forelegs to allow gliding and, eventually, active flight. These were the first birds. Our own ancestors at this time were rather unimpressively small, rat-like creatures skulking in the undergrowth, nervously coming out at night to nibble on insects, seeds and fallen fruit. If we could travel to this ancient land, we might be too concerned with the dangers posed by the larger wildlife to notice that there were no flowers; no orchids, buttercups or daisies, no cherry blossoms, no foxgloves in the wooded glades. And no matter how hard we listened, we would not hear the distinctive drone of bees. But all that was about to change.
Sex has always been difficult for plants, because they cannot move. If one cannot move, then finding a suitable partner and exchanging sex cells with them poses something of an obstacle. The plant equivalent of sperm is pollen, and the challenge facing a plant is how to get its pollen to the female reproductive parts of another plant; not easy if one is rooted to the ground. The early solution, and one still used by some plants to this day, is to use the wind. One hundred and thirty-five million years ago almost all plants scattered their pollen on the wind and hoped against hope that a tiny proportion of it would, by chance, land on a female flower.
The ability of established bumblebee colonies to keep warm is most impressive. I once was looking for the kindest way to dispose of a colony of Turkish buff-tailed bumblebees â factory-reared bees which could not be released into the wild in the UK as they are not native here â and decided that freezing them was probably the best option. I placed the nest in its entirety in a domestic freezer at -30°C. The next day I came back to find the colony very much alive and buzzing loudly; the workers had gathered into a tight clump over the brood and were presumably shivering at maximum capacity. The queen was hidden in their centre, and seemed quite unperturbed.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Brief History of Bees
Let us travel back in time 135 million years. The vast supercontinent of Gondwana was beginning to break up, with South America drifting off to the west of Africa, and Australia moving majestically off to the east. Antarctica decided to head south, dooming all but the most adaptable of its inhabitants to an eventual icy grave. The South Atlantic and Indian Oceans were slowly forming.
At this ancient time, an era known to geologists as the Cretaceous, the continents were clothed in green forests of tree ferns, cycads, huge horsetails, and conifers such as pines and cedars. This was the height of the reign of the dinosaurs, although not the species that are so well known to schoolchildren the world over: amongst the trees, herds of vast herbivores such as Iguanodon grazed, standing on their hind legs to reach higher foliage; heavily armoured, tank-like species such as Gastonia bulldozed through the undergrowth; and packs of ferocious meat-eaters such as Utahraptor hunted their prey. The air swarmed with primitive insects including oversized dragonflies and early butterflies, and this was also the heyday of the pterosaurs, the largest animals ever to fly above the earth, with wingspans up to 12 metres. Much smaller dinosaurs had also taken to the air; feathers, probably first evolved to help these little creatures keep warm, became elongated on their forelegs to allow gliding and, eventually, active flight. These were the first birds. Our own ancestors at this time were rather unimpressively small, rat-like creatures skulking in the undergrowth, nervously coming out at night to nibble on insects, seeds and fallen fruit. If we could travel to this ancient land, we might be too concerned with the dangers posed by the larger wildlife to notice that there were no flowers; no orchids, buttercups or daisies, no cherry blossoms, no foxgloves in the wooded glades. And no matter how hard we listened, we would not hear the distinctive drone of bees. But all that was about to change.
Sex has always been difficult for plants, because they cannot move. If one cannot move, then finding a suitable partner and exchanging sex cells with them poses something of an obstacle. The plant equivalent of sperm is pollen, and the challenge facing a plant is how to get its pollen to the female reproductive parts of another plant; not easy if one is rooted to the ground. The early solution, and one still used by some plants to this day, is to use the wind. One hundred and thirty-five million years ago almost all plants scattered their pollen on the wind and hoped against hope that a tiny proportion of it would, by chance, land on a female flower.
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