What does a honeybee do with pollen it collects for transporting back to the hive? It sticks it to its legs until globules form so large it must return to a hive to “door dash” its pollen delivery.
Flecks of pollen get caught in hairs all over the busy little bee. As it moves from one blossom to the next, pollen gets inadvertently deposited on necessary parts of the flowers. This activity provides the necessary element for the plant to reproduce. It’s the cycle of nature where fauna helps flora, and vice versa. It’s a fundamental aspect of reproduction in nature.
“Elementary, my dear Watson.” Easy for Sherlock to say.
Pollen and nectar are two words for the same item, right? “Wrong, Watson.”
Powder-like pollen from a plant’s male unmentionable part (stamen) needs to be transferred to the female part (pistil) for reproduction via producing seeds. Our pollinator insect friends help keep the landscape colorful and the breezes aromatic.
Former Wells County iris hybridizers, E.B. Williamson, Mary Williamson, Paul Cook, and the yet living award-winning hybridizers, Roger and Lynda Miller, now living in Oregon, all used this concept to move pollen from one variety to a specific different plant. They intentionally attempted the creation of a new variation of both.
Ironically, E.B. was criticized for gathering “mixed pollen” in small pill boxes to spread on the pistils of another select variety to create something new and exciting. His method more resembled the honey bee hybridizer’s mixed pollen, God’s plan. The natural method brings surprises, often pleasant joy.
Sweet nectar produced via photosynthesis by a plant attracts pollinators. Bees dine on it for needed energy. Any excess remains in their stomachs where it turns to watery honey. They place the diluted honey in comb cells. Workers wing-fan it to rid it of water. Presto. Via the magic of “barf” comes honey.
Bees mix nectar and pollen with saliva to create bee bread used to feed their Queen and bee larvae. Angelkeep loves its equivalent of cornbread slathered with honey butter.
“Elementary my dear Watson.”
“I say, my dear Watson, has the maestro-newspaperman, Mark Miller, ever had a digression cover half a weekly column? Is this maximus-digression a first?”
What’s a pollen ball? Finally, Angelkeep writes of a subject in the headline. Pollen balls, or pellets, which to some look like saddle bags hanging on a bees’ hind legs, are the pollen-saliva mix intended as carry-out fast food to others in the hive. Bees load shopping carts (corbicula) with half again its own weight before flying hiveward.
Angelkeep observed a paper wasp resting on a bean leaf. Hanging from its mouth (mandibles) was a sight previously unseen. A yellow sphere. It appeared the wasp had stolen a wad of pollen from the leg of a bee. Angelkeep deduced, “that can’t be right.” Research begets knowledge.
“‘The Sign of Four,’ my dear Watson.” Observation, deduction, and knowledge.
Google directed Angelkeep’s query to the “backyardnature” website. Angelkeep loves backyard nature. It seemed a proper place for enlightenment.
Backyard posted paper wasp pics holding yellow orbs that resembled the one in Angelkeep’s back yard. Apparently wasp species preyed on arthropod larvae. Backyard admitted its deductions only being “suspected” since scientific studies were as yet unpublished. Backyard thought the yellow objects were “meatballs” consisting of compacted caterpillar sections. A suspected intent involved placing meatballs in nest cells as food for eventual wasp larvae. Backyard’s author concluded “since the caterpillars probably are eating the trees’ leaves, this wasp nest may be of great service to the forest surrounding it.”
Backyard’s wasp nest received an attack by an enormous swarm of army ants. Cells were torn asunder and all larvae and pupae plundered. As it turned out his paper wasp with the yellow meatball had been photographed in Mexico.
Was Angelkeep’s paper wasp with a yellow meatball actually one entering the United States illegally? Or did the paper wasp have legitimate immigration papers?
“It’s yet a quandary, my dear Watson.”
Mr. Daugherty is a Wells County resident who, along with his wife Gwen, enjoy their backyard and have named it “Angelkeep.”
