So
I've decided that these guys are real insects. But what are
they up to? Are they really threatening? Am I in danger of getting a
painful sting? Once, long ago, a bumble bee stung me; it's not an
experience I'd ever wish to repeat. So what's going on? What has
changed, to bring these pesky little buzzers around, these last few
years? Does their intrusive presence indicate a future “Planet of
the Bees” horrible scenario? And what's their bullying got to do
with me? I'm just doing my thing around the homestead—quiet and
peaceful like. Go bother someone else—someone who is causing
trouble!
Needing
to comprehend this bee bullying, I once again turned to the internet
for help. On a University of Kentucky website I learned that the
carpenter bee I'm seeing is the male. They are very aggressive, as
they protect the nest that their mate has prepared and populated with
eggs. Said nest is a hole drilled into wood by mom, into which she
deposits half a dozen eggs—each one tucked up against a ball of
pollen (the only source of food for these bees). In a week or so, the
larva will emerge, dine on its private pollen ball, and begin its
seven-week-long life—maybe pestering another innocent human by buzzing around them?
The
fascinating fact about these critters is that the aggressive
male—that guy who's bullying me—is stingerless! Talk about
chutzpah! He's in my face and faking it. He's relying on his
substantial size and his threatening buzz to intimidate me... and
it's worked! But now, armed with my newly-acquired knowledge, you
better watch out, buster; the next time you dive bomb me, I'll get
right back in your face and maybe even whap you around a bit. I'm
wise to you now.
So
I'll go about my business, no longer intimidated by the bullying
carpenter bees—although it's difficult to overcome that startled
reaction that evolution has built into us, to a big bee's buzzing.
It's like the innate aversion we have when we spot a snake. Even
after I have learned to appreciate our local snakes' predation of
voles, mice, and other bothersome rodents, I still get a flutter of
my heart when I spot a serpent—especially if it's only a few feet
away.
I
think my biggest (and legitimate) concern about carpenter bees is the
holes that mama bee drills in our numerous wooden support structures.
The internet told me that she can bore holes a foot or two deep in
wood. (Good lord! That's equivalent to me tunneling some 150 feet!)
Good thing I'm known for overbuilding my structures—I always
fashion beams and rafters at least twice the size they need be. Maybe
I'll require that extra safety margin, as I now realize that the
buzzing carpenter bee is harmless to my hide, but not to wood.
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