
JOHN MACLEOD: Hairy and dishevelled, bopping along as if sozzled...but hum of the bumblebee is truly the voice of our gardens
She meant the bumblebee, meandering gently about, never in a rush, loath to sting. Hairy and dishevelled, it bounces off windows and bops, as if a little sozzled, amidst delphiniums and buddleia and honeysuckle and the bonny purple heather.
The Victorians rather sweetly called them 'humblebees.' In Old English, they were 'dumbledores' – yes, that's where she got it – and the Romans thought them creatures of the Muses.
To our Celtic forebears, they were messages from the heavens. And, even today, some superstitions endure. A bumblebee flying into your house, they do say, heralds some important, forthcoming visitor.
They portend luck and sweetness; a bumblebee landing on your hand declares that you are about to come into money. And, chilled and ponderous as a bumblebee might seem – less the maniacal jiving of the honeybee advising the hive of abundant good things at such-and-such a location than embarrassing Dad-dancing at a wedding – it is supremely efficient.
Its four wings beat two hundred times a second; it thunders like an exquisitely tuned guitar-string – and it is the only living thing capable of pollinating a tomato plant.
Accordingly, great commercial growers important thousands of boxes of bumblebees each year, sourced largely from France and Belgium and where they are commercially farmed, for their glasshouses.
Bumblebees do not make honey: they do not need to, for a colony lasts but one long summer. Only the fattest hibernating queens, holed up in some crevice, survive winter – and her first mission, understandably, is to feed.
Duly regaled with nectar from the first spring flowers, and protein-rich pollen from catkins and fluffy pussywillow, she then seeks out some des res – most species like to repurpose a fieldmouse's burrow – moulds some waxy cups, stores therein garnered nectar and pollen-balls, and lays her first eggs.
Larvae duly pupbate and, just like that, she now commands a troop of workers – all girls; and the only thing that might go amiss is the invasion of a queen of some cuckoo bumblebee species, who usually kills (or, in rare mercy, enslaves) the original queen.
What no queen will tolerate is a worker laying her own eggs. Her Majesty, naturally hurt as well as cross, promptly eats them. It is in only late summer, and doubtless with a world-weary sigh, that boys are begotten: lazy, laddish and stingless and only the luckiest getting to mate.
'He does nothing except stay out all night,' darkly confides Gill Perkins of the Bumblebee Conservation Trust, 'get drunk on nectar and look for sex.'
It might as well be a hall of residence. There are only seven relatively common species of bumblebee you are likely to see in Britain, and the biggest, the Great Yellow Bumblebee – 'like big, fat flying ping-pong balls,' enthuses Mrs Perkins – is now confined to the far north.
Caithness, Sutherland, Orkney – and the Western Isles where, too, we can boast a unique bumblebee sub-species. A small heath bumblebee, bombus jonellus var. hebridensis.
All told, though, there are twenty-four species in this country, as the late and peerless Bernard Levin enthused in a column published, rather sweetly, on 9 July 1975 – a precise half-century ago.
He had just read Dr D V Alford's definitive work on the subject, published by Davis-Poynter for the eyewatering price, at that time, of £25, and imaginatively entitled Bumblebees.
'They go by names of such variegated magnificence,' panted Levin, 'such exquisitely poetic beauty, that I must introduce you to a selection.
'There is bombus agrorum, for instance, who is obviously a rustic bumblebee, forever sucking straws and leaning over gates; there is bombus americanorum, who, no doubt, chews gum; bombus distinguendus, who comes of a very old family of bumblebees, and bombus elegans, who only goes to the best tailors.
'Bombus frigidus, a very reserved bumblebee; bombus hortorum hortorum, who stammers; bombus inexpectatus, who is apt to pop out from behind lampposts and cry 'Boo!'; bombus senilis, poor old thing…
'And bombus virginalis, or so she says.'
But all is not well for bumblebees. 2024 was the worst year for their numbers in Britain since records began. A big factor, of course, was its extraordinarily bad spring, with – according to the Meteorological Office – many areas receiving more than double, and in some places triple, the usual amount of rainfall for March, April and May.
Untold, emerging queens were chilled, starved and clobbered just at the frailest point of bumblebee life – when a season's new colonies are being established by assorted single mums.
Though conditions improved, even July and August saw their second-worst counts since Bumblebee Conservation Trust monitoring began.
'We've got smaller, weaker populations of a lot of these bumblebees,' says Dr Richard Comont, 'because of long-term habitat changes. We know that bumblebees were struggling anyway and smaller, weaker populations are less able to respond to changes: they don't have that resilience.
'Although there's loads of bumblebees in midsummer, they all come from very small numbers that emerge from hibernation in the spring.'
Protracted heatwaves – remember the scorcher that was 2022, so protracted that in many districts it triggered a 'false autumn'? – also jeopardise bumblebee colonies.
Queens and workers routinely 'thermoregulate,' fanning eggs and larvae when things hot up, but if the thermometer hits 35 degrees or more then all is lost.
For almost the greatest paradox of bumblebees is that they are creatures of temperate climes, not tropical - at their most abundant in territory like the Alps and Britain and the cool summers of the Outer Hebrides.
There are even some that live in the Arctic, like bombus polaris. ('Said to have nuclear mandibles,' purred Bernard Levin.)
But still greater threats are neonicotinoid pesticides – which dramatically reduce a queen's egg-laying success – and even a 26% fall is enough, in many instances, for local extinction.
Climate change and heavy metal pollution, as we reported yesterday, are even affecting how bumblebees hum, according to experts – and humming is vital in teasing such flowers as the tomato to open up for a visit.
The simple destruction of habitat, though, long predates such toxins. Since 1950 we have lost, incredibly, 97% of Britain's wildflower meadows – largely due to modern intensified farming – and with dire ecological consequence.
One reason that bumblebees still prosper in the Western Isles is because of the lowkey crofting agriculture – Hebrideans do not scamper around spraying things – and because of the fabled machair, the rich coastal shell-sand grazings which, at this season, are a riot of sweet, scented, blossom.
I fully understand why neighbours mow their lawns, but wince when they go above and beyond and strim the roadside verges too.
And when, several months ago, the northern verge the length of my street was churned up by BT – laying the kit for high-speed broadband – I quietly ordered in some wildflower seed and did much discreet evening sowing. Poppy, cornflower, yellow rattle, ox-eye daisy and so on.
A summer without bumblebees is, for me, unthinkable. And, as French mathematician André Sainte-Laguë once joyously reflected, 'According to aerodynamic laws, the bumblebee cannot fly. Its bodyweight is not the right proportion to its wingspan.
'Ignoring these laws, the bee flies anyway.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


BBC News
an hour ago
- BBC News
Settle church memorial plan for infant graves found under compost
A memorial to honour babies and infants whose graves have been discovered near a North Yorkshire church has been unmarked graves date back to the 19th Century and were found under a compost heap, in a corner of the Settle Parish Church of the Holy Ascension's Sarah Lister made the discovery while taking part in a project to document the lives of people buried in the church's graveyard since Lister said the memorial would be a place of reflection for anyone affected by child loss, as well as a way of "sharing a little slice of history". Ms Lister started work on the Settle Graveyard Project in 2018, 108 years after the church was was through the church archive that the infant gravesite was discovered beneath a storage area for garden children were buried between 1840 and 1850, and Ms Lister believes that they were placed in unmarked graves because their parents, many of whom were poor, had not bought a family plot exact number of children buried in the plot is unknown, as documents suggest the gravedigger at the time was illiterate and therefore could not record each burial accurately. The project was initially a way of preserving the names on eroding gravestones, but she was also able to use Holy Ascension's records to find out more about the people who had been buried there."We often call it history by the back door, because what we're doing is telling a story that's really interesting, but behind the story there is a load of history thrown in," she said."So people are absorbing social history, and an awareness of Settle, without even realising that's what they're doing."Ms Lister is a former headteacher and self-confessed history "nerd", who moved to Settle about 15 years said the project had allowed her to find out more about the area."It's like Who Do You Think You Are because when you look at a gravestone you have no idea about the history attached to that," she said."But every grave is a little slice of history and when you do the research, it's absolutely fascinating."As a way to commemorate the infants buried at the site and to preserve a part of the town's history, the church - led by Rev Julie Clarkson - is fundraising to create a for the space include a bench and an information plaque."Even if they're finding somewhere nice and quiet to take in the atmosphere and if they just spend a minute thinking about what that space represents, then that's mission accomplished," Ms Lister said. Listen to highlights from North Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, catch up with the latest episode of Look North.


BBC News
an hour ago
- BBC News
Manchester firefighters tackle blaze at Tulketh Industrial Estate
Firefighters have been tackling a large blaze at an industrial Manchester Fire & Rescue Service (GMFRS) said it was called to Tulketh Industrial Estate, off Kenyon Lane in Manchester, shortly before 01:30 fire engines were deployed to the blaze at one which has advised residents living nearby to keep doors and windows closed, said: "Crews remain in attendance to extinguish the fire and make the surrounding area safe." Listen to the best of BBC Radio Manchester on Sounds and follow BBC Manchester on Facebook, X, and Instagram. You can also send story ideas via Whatsapp to 0808 100 2230.


The Sun
an hour ago
- The Sun
Oven glass will look new & sparkle with 50p hack cleaners swear by for removing thick grease and grime
CLEANING fans are raving over a 50p hack that leaves oven glass sparkling like new - cutting through thick grease and grime in minutes without the elbow grease. The cheap-as-chips trick is being hailed as a game-changer by savvy cleaners who swear by it for restoring filthy oven doors to their former glory. 3 Cleaning pros swear by the cult classic Pink Stuff for keeping your oven doors sparkling - and it costs just a couple of quid. Simply spread it on, let it sit for a few minutes and leave it to work its magic. Then scrunch up tin foil into a ball and use to scrub it off - it acts like a DIY scourer and works a treat on stubborn stains. Facebook users were left gobsmacked by the results, with many flooding to share their own success stories. Writing in the Facebook group Ms Hinch Cleaning Tips, John Mark said: "I am sooo shocked with the results using PINK STUFF and TIN FOIL. Thanks for the advice guys!" Where can you buy it? Sainsbury's carries the 850g tub for about £1.50, making it an absolute steal compared to specialist cleaners. Amazon UK also sells the 500g paste for around £1.50, fitting perfectly for single jobs without overspending. You'll also find it in stores like B&M, Wilko, and Tesco, though prices can range from £1.50 to £2.10 depending on the retailer. Other ways to clean oven glass Turns out there's more than one way to blitz that grimy oven glass – and it won't cost you a fortune either. Cleaning pros swear by a simple paste of bicarbonate of soda and water, scrubbed on with a dish sponge to lift off even the toughest grease. Cleaning fan reveals the cheap, easy way to get clothes smelling 'beautiful' without shelling out on pricey dryer sheets Others reach for Oven Pride cleaner for a deep-down shine, while some fans even use shaving foam to cut through the grime. And don't forget the viral fave – a dishwasher tablet. Simply dipping the tablet in warm water and gently scrubbing the oven door works wonders, lifting away baked-on grease and stubborn stains with ease. So easy, cheap and satisfying!