Feral Bee

Stalking feral bumble bees on the Alameda dunes

2012-02-17T14:32:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Yesterday, I came upon this juicy feral bumble bee queen. She was foraging for nectar and pollen on the Alameda dunes. I was mesmerized by her velvety fur, the tiny hooks on her feet, the translucence of her darkly veinated wings. And I loved the way she looked massive compared to the amber-banded honey bees who were visiting the same plant.

Flock of seagulls

2012-02-13T19:24:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

When birds and squirrels attack

2012-02-11T19:33:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

The first clue we were under attack? A trail of fresh wood chips on the garden path

The second clue? More wood chips raining down on my cat at as he napped under the silver maple.

I looked up through the massive soaring limbs of the maple tree with the silver-gray bark and saw a woodpecker push a stream of blonde wood chips out of a hole she was excavating in a bough above my head. Clearly, she was preparing a nest, inspired by the spring-like February weather

Just then, a squirrel loped along the broad avenue of the maple's branches, clawed its way down the tree's shaggy bark and jumped onto the garden table where she began shredding anold vinyl tablecloth.

Her goal? Remove the layer of insulated material inside the tablecloth and transport it to her nest. Even if it meant facing down an adult human and her cat along the way. Needless to say, bird and squirrel won. And we (the cat and I) wish them every success in their springtime efforts at raising family.

Ghost birds

2012-02-08T19:05:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

The morning fog allowed me to get up close to the usually nervous sandpipers and sanderlings before they took flight. Disoriented, they wheeled slowly, wings flashing white, grey, black, before speeding to safety further down the beach.

Here's looking at you kid

2012-02-02T17:48:00.001-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Today is Groundhog Day, which doesn't mean much in California where concerns about the length of winter are replaced with concerns about the amount of rain that we have or haven't had . So, like any immigrant with Celtic roots, I remind myself that Groudhog Day is a vestige of Imbolc, a Celtic festival that marks the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox and is when lambs and baby goats are born.

But when I dropped by City Grazing in San Francisco, I learned that all their male goats have been fixed, so there will be no kids this year. But there were plenty of super cute goats on display, chewing and munching on weeds and giving me an eyeful of their most excellent horns, stripes, eyes, nostrils and teeth. Yup, with spring in the air, what's not to love? Don't believe me? Continue reading to check out some of the cutest domesticated ruminants this side of the Rockies.

To catch a bird bring breadcrumbs. Or rodents

2012-02-01T22:12:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

For weeks I'd been trying to catch birds in flight without much success. Then I saw a woman feeding the birds at the beach and I knew what to do: bring breadcrumbs. That worked well for the gulls who mobbed me like a flock of angels. As for the hawk I saw later that day, it brought its own unfortunate rodent...

Ladybugs in January

2012-02-01T22:05:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

I wasn't expecting to see ladybugs on the last day in January.

Then again, it was warm enough to have been the first day of spring.

I found them on some wild fennel plants.And once I spotted one bug, I saw them everywhere...

2012-01-25T10:35:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

I saw this bumble bee at Lake Merritt's trial gardens on Martin Luther King Jr. day. I was there as part of a crew of volunteers helping to relocate a bee-friendly garden that native bee advocate Celeste Ets-Hokin started a few years ago. The previous location had too much shade. Now we have a much larger sunnier spot. Thanks to help from Occupy Oakland, Oakland High School, the Victory Garden and David of Malibu Compost, we succeeded in relocating plants, digging beds and giving the soil a layer of compost before the first rain of the year hit. Thanks everyone for representing! And thanks to the bumbles for showing up, despite the chilly weather. Turns out that their coats aren't just a fashion statement. Their thick, originally tundra-adapted fur allow them to forage earlier and later than other bees. And it helped this bumble to get out collecting nectar even on a sunny but cold day when otherwise sun-loving Italian honey bees opted to stay home in the hive.

Cat in the grass

2012-01-24T21:59:00.000-08:00

I met a blue-eyed cat by the shoreline. He was looking for something. So was I.

Then something rustled in the pickle grass. And the cat was on his way.

Black-necked stilts have the best leggings

2012-01-12T18:10:00.000-08:00

Poster at Martin Luther King Jr. Shoreline Park

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Okay, so they are not leggings but every time I see black-necked stilts wading, nay running, through the water at Martin Luther King Jr. Shoreline Park in Oakland, I fall in love with its bright pinkish-red legs.

Bird sanctuary mantra

2011-12-31T23:48:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Terns, godwits, avocets, gulls, sanderlings great blue herons and oyster catchers make Alameda Island's bird sanctuary a great place to meditate on the joys of flying and the perils of digging for food.

Honey and bumble bees still working it

2011-12-29T18:20:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Only the honey and bumble bees were working it yesterday afternoon. The honey bees visited this succulent. And big fat bumble bee queen zig-zagged past me through a field full of fallen brown leaves.

Happiness is a composter

2011-12-27T17:22:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

I'm excited to announce the installation of a brand new composter in our yard this winter. Today, we added a lot of green material that we chopped with a machete to speed decomposition. In our haste to get started, we may not have completely separated out the following for haul away: plants with powdery mildew, other diseases or aphids; bermuda grass, oxalis and anything that grows with ground runners or bulbs; and weedy plants that have gone to seed. But in future we'll put them in the green bin.

When we had three-four inches of green material in the bin, we covered it with a layer of dried leaves. We repeated the process, as if we were preparing a giant green and brown lasagne. At intervals, we watered our concoction with the garden hose (decomposition doesn’t start until compost material is moist).

We also added discarded food scraps. But we only used plant material. Brussel sprout leaves, apple cores, green pepper stalks, banana skins and satsuma peels made the cut. As did well-crushed eggshells. But we avoided all animal meats and oils.

We covered the whole pile with straw to deter rodents and insects. We placed one thermometer in the center of bin and another thermometer outside the bin. We understand that the temperature inside the bin may rise to 140 degrees or above when the compost really gets cooking. And that any time the temperature drops to below 100 degrees, it means the pile needs to be turned so it will heat up again. This is best done at least weekly, until the compost doesn’t heat up any further, which means it is ready for use.

Today we installed our thermometers just in time to determine that the outside temperature was 50 degrees at 5:15 p.m.(17 minutes after sunset) and the inner temperature was 65 degrees. And we will be keeping a log to record daily temperature differences inside and outside the pile.

Our plan is to use the compost from this bin in our yard next year. We will place a wire mesh screen or plastic milk crate over a wheelbarrow or container to screen out unwanted sticks, bark, rocks or stones from the compost. We will transfer the unwanted rubble into a mulch pile. And give thanks for the black gold that last summer's dried leaves and stems and our stream of coffee grounds and tea leaves keeps yielding.

Christmas is coming

2011-12-24T17:36:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

A skein of geese flew over at sunset tonight. Their Christmas Eve honking, and the memory of the woman begging for change outside the store today, made me think of that line about geese and charity in "Christmas is Coming," a nursery rhyme that carolers used to sing when I was a kid in England:

Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat
Please put a penny in the old man's hat
If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do
If you haven't got a ha'penny, then God bless you!

Digging for gold

2011-12-22T18:25:00.000-08:00

The low tide brought those in the know to the beach. Metal detectors, clam diggers, and water drinkers abounded. And shortly after sunset, giant flocks of sanderlings streaked home across gold and cobalt skies. Hopefully, they all found what they were looking for on this most brilliant of halcyon days.

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Winter solstice caterpillar

2011-12-22T12:41:00.000-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Winter solstice arrived at 9:30 p.m last night, marking the longest night of the year. It was beautiful clear weather in Oakland and another halcyon day in the public gardens at Lake Merritt. We saw Monarch Butterfly caterpillars on milkweed, bumble bees on trailing rosemary and indigo spire sage, a gray and white cat (who we unofficially named Shogun) near the Torii Gate, dried thistles against the cobalt sky, and stones artfully piled up into cairns. Happy solstice! Here's looking forward to the return of sun light.

Gotham City West

2011-12-20T21:11:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Halcyon heron

2011-12-20T21:08:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

The Sibley Guide to Birds describes the flight call of Ardea herodias, the Great blue heron, as a "very deep, hoarse trumpeting fraaahnk or braak."

"Our largest and heaviest heron is one of the most vocal, calling frequently in flight," Sibley's Guide says. "Generally solitary and nocturnal, it hunts fish and other animals while wading slowly in quiet waters."

I always wondered how best to transcribe the primal croak that emits from this beautiful bird as it flies by. Now, thanks to Sibley's I know what to croak back in response: Fraaahnk. Brak.

Winter solstice bee

2011-12-19T12:47:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Actually the winter solstice isn't until Wednesday, December 21. But at nine hours and 33 minutes each day, daylight is the same length as on the solstice. The days stay that short until Monday, December 26, when we gain an extra minute of light.
Either way, the honey bees seem happy with the mild temperatures today, as evidenced by this worker that I spotted on a flowering succulent at about noon.

Beware the Pogonip

2011-12-18T19:33:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

My Olde Farmer’s Almanac says to beware the Pogonip today. It refers to an ice fog that occurs, especially in mountain valleys, during cold winter spells in the western United States.

Pogonip is derived from a Shoshone word payinappih which means icy fog. And native Americans warned that crystals from a Pogonip could cause death, if they got into your lungs.

Halcyon days begin

2011-12-17T19:51:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Halcyon days are said to be seven days in winter when storms don't occur either side of the shortest day of the year. The phrase derives from the legend of the goddess Alcyone, who, as a kingfisher, laid eggs and nested on the beach. During this time, her father Aeolus, the god of the winds, calmed the waves so his daughter could nest safely. My Olde Farmer's Almanac says halcyon days began on December 15. And the term perfectly describes the Bay Area weather for the past few days this year.

Mistletoe, the other sacred herb

2011-12-15T17:13:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Ember days

2011-12-14T21:57:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

The Olde Farmer's Almanac says that December 14, 16 and 17 are ember days.
"Folklore has it that the weather on each of the three days foretells the weather for the next three months," the almanac says.
That would mean that Wednesday foretells the weather for January, Thursday for February, and Friday for March. We'll see.

Pomegranate juice

2011-12-12T22:04:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Cold full moon

2011-12-11T14:06:00.001-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Last's night's rising full moon had to clear some fog before becoming visible over the East Bay hills. (This picture was taken the night before.) But when it did, its reflection seemed to be of interest to the shore birds, including a coot at Alameda's Crab Cove.

Low tide clam digger

2011-12-08T21:08:00.001-08:00

Photos by Sarah Phelan

Today's low tide drew crowds of gulls, sandpipers and sanderlings. And one clam digger. Judging from this sequence, the birds took a break from sifting the sands for worms to watch this man and his machine at work.

2011-12-08T11:43:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Every winter, a flock of night herons shows up one evening in some grassy fields near my place. And each year, I try to figure out why they show up when they do. I think it happens when the tides are high (so there are no exposed mudflats to forage in) and after it's rained (so the fields are water-logged providing the herons with alternative hunting grounds.)

So far, there's been no rain and no herons, which tends to support my thesis. And so I'm forced to stalk herons along the shore or track them down at Lake Merritt like this ridiculously tame one here.

Egrets necks

2011-12-08T11:28:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

I wonder if snowy egrets get neck problems what with all the preening of feathers in difficult places? And then there's the way they dart their necks in and out while spinning, running and fishing in the waves.

The thought occurred to me when I saw these egrets sitting on a pier with a row of terns on a foggy morning whose chilly air made my own neck ache.

December bumble

2011-12-07T16:47:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

As a prelude to winter (and to remind myself how warm winter in Northern California really is) I've been reading Barry Lopez' amazing Artic Dreams.

In his bestseller, which was first published in 1986, Lopez ruminates on the wonders of tundra-adapted polar bears, muskoxen, narwhals and, yes, bumble bees.

Lopez notes that bumble bees raise their body temperature by 8 degrees by sleeping inside flowers.

I don't know if this bumble plans to sleep inside a petal tent tonight, but her thick furry coat was helping her to forage in Oakland, despite today's chill.

Bird fog

2011-12-03T20:30:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

The other morming when it was foggy, a flock of sanderlings swerved unusually close towards me at the beach. I recalled that the alleged inspiration for Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds was a reported case of disorientated birds crashing into a fog-bound Capitola Village on California's Central Coast.

Egret, pyramid, SF

2011-12-02T22:04:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

The birds

2011-11-29T22:10:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

No turkey for us, thanks

2011-11-25T18:53:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Absolutely no bees in sight today, not even on the wild fennel alongside the shoreline of the bay. So, perhaps it's time to retrain feral bee's lens on the wild birds that share with us the wet zone, that space where land, ocean and air stunningly intersect.

Last bumble bee of Indian summer?

2011-11-20T22:00:00.001-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Bumble bees are usually hard to photograph: they move fast from flower to flower as they make their bumbling sound, then zigzag into the distance with a distinctive bizz whizz.

This one was easier to shot because the day was a little colder so it was moving a little slower than usual.

Still, its thick black coat means it is out and about when most other bees aren't. This makes sense. A bumble bee's furry pelt is adapted to the tundra.

I

Cool native bee perpetual calendar goes on sale!

2011-11-15T09:37:00.001-08:00

Today is a good day for native bees. That's because a newly offered perpetual calendar (use it for five years) titled "Garden variety native bees of North America" goes on sale today at nativebeedazzled.com.

This unique calendar is packed with cool facts about these fuzzy little vegans, the main pollinators of the plants upon which most land-based animals depend on for food and shelter. It includes stunning images by insect photographer Rollin Coville and descriptions and plants lists by Celeste Ets-Hokin to help you identify, attract and create habitat for these beneficial insects in gardens and on farms.

"Close to three quarters of the earth's flowering plants rely upon the pollinating services of bees for healthy reproduction of most of our fruit, vegetable and seed crops," Ets-Hokin observes. "North America is home to about 4,000 species of native bee, the premiere pollinators of the plants upon which most terrestrial animals depend for food and shelter. But native populations are in decline nationwide, due primarily to habitat loss and pesticide poisoning. They need our help. As natural areas are steadily diminished, our residential gardens as well as our orchards and farm fields can provide valuable habitat for many bee species. And when we invite native bees back into our landscape, the quality and yield of our crops, as well as the beauty and heallth of our gardens, will be improved by the industry of these essential pollinators."

A portion of the proceeds from sales of the calendar will support the pollinator conservation efforts of the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation and the Great Sunflower Project. So, order yours today and help make the world more bee-utifil!

Indian summer confirmed by honey bees

2011-11-14T19:23:00.001-08:00

Olde Farmer's Almanac says Indian summer begins today. Honey bees at Crab Cove agree.

Project Runway should issue a native bee challenge

2011-11-11T13:08:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

Imagine you had a gatheirng basket built onto your leg. How different would that be?

That's how this honey bee is carrying that big clump of orange pollen you can see on her leg.
Maybe it would look weird from a fashion perspective, but it would free up your hands.

I think Project Runway should have a challenge where participants make outfits based on what bees really look like, up close and personal.
(I'm sick of Halloween "bee" costumes that look like wasps, even though I I ended up wearing one this year.)

Project Runway designers could have a lot of fun once they figure out that bees have furry little vests, stripey skirts, pollen baskets, honey crops and massive compound eyes.

I've got a bad case of carpenter bee envy

2011-11-09T18:31:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

I love carpenter bees. They are large and black and look a lot like bumble bees except they don't have a yellow band of fur on their bum.

I spotted this carpenter bee visiting a sage plant in my friend Celeste's backyard today. She says these bees absolutely love this plant.
So, now I'm hoping that if I plant this particular sage in my yard, I can attract these deliciously large black bees into my garden next spring.

November honeys keep on working it

2011-11-08T21:23:00.000-08:00

The colder weather didn't seem to deter this little honey bee from foraging just yards away from the shoreline of Crown Beach on Alameda Island.

Take these broken wings

2011-11-02T14:32:00.000-07:00

I saw this bee on Halloween. She was busy foraging, and her wings show that she has been out in the field for some weeks: if you look closely, you can see that the edges of her wings are torn.

Worker bees start as house bees, then head into the field, where they die of exhaustion/ torn wings. Aww!

The difference between wasps and bees

2011-11-02T14:24:00.000-07:00

Photo by Sarah Phelan

I often see people confusing bees and wasps. In a way, that's not surprising: both move fast in the field and, given folks' innate fear of being stung, most people don't hang around long enough to discern the difference.

So, I thought this was a handy photo in terms of illustrating the differences.
The bee (top of photo) is fuzzy all the better to gather pollen which it uses as a protein source back in the nest.
The wasp (bottom of photo) is smooth and doesn't gather pollen: it stings spiders and insects which it uses as a protein source back in the nest.

Sarah suits up

2011-10-30T13:07:00.000-07:00

My brilliant career as a bee keeper.

Actually, I'm suited up to help my neighbor make sure his bees are well-positioned for winter

So, it's the first step towards keeping bees. But don't worry. I'm not giving up on the ferals.

Honey comb

2011-10-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

This makes me think of waffles.

Solar geometry, magnetic personalities

2011-10-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

There is something infinitely pleasing about bees.

Honey diving

2011-10-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

A honey bee rushes across the comb as one of her sister drinks honey

Yesterday I helped my neighbor with his bees.

When Jack puffed smoke into the frames, a loud buzz went up. I thought the bee box would explode as thousands of angry insects sounded the alarm with their wings.

But though a cloud of bees investigated us, our white bee suits kept them at bay. And soon we were handling the frames, where bees were gorging on honey, like refugees grabbing provisions in face of a bad storm.

October bees above Stinson Beach

2011-10-27T18:34:00.000-07:00

Forgive this whirry-sounding clip.
I couldn't resist showing off these bees.
I spotted them on a Tower of Jewels plant.
It was growing on cliffs at Stinson Beach.
We're talking about the end of October!

Honey bee resorts to echinacea

2011-10-25T22:19:00.000-07:00

Today a honey bee landed on the echinacea in my yard. Maybe it was because the asters are all bloomed out. I suspect this bee comes from one of the hives kept by my neighbor Jack. I must tell him that his bees aren't the only ones getting into the echinacea now that the weather has grown colder.

This is what a bumble bee's nest looks like

2011-10-24T16:27:00.000-07:00

This is a fragment of a bumble bee nest that my neighbor gave me.

Bumble bee queens build their nests inside tree cavities or burrows that rodents have abandoned. But this one set up her nest under a dresser my neighbor left standing beneath the trees in his yard.

My neighbor says when he moved the dresser this summer, he caused a stir.

"The swarm flew up, and I flew inside!" he said.

Bumble bee in snowy weather on Mt. Charleston

2011-10-09T22:33:00.000-07:00

Last week I ended up on Mt. Charleston about an hour outside Las Vegas in Nevada. It was cold on the mountain and snowing at 8,000 ft. So I was impressed to see a bumble bee foraging at 7,000 ft.
A thick furry vest keeps this tundra-adapted bee warm. But the cold made it move slower than usual making it easier to film this bee which makes a characteristic "bizz buzz" as it exits the frame at the end of this clip.

Finally, a female leafcutter bee visits my backyard

2011-10-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

A female leafcutter bee visited my backyard for the first time today. Big excitement. I love how these bees have abdomens that are covered in bright yellow pollen and are raised like a chassis on a fancy car.

First rain

2011-10-03T22:17:00.000-07:00

I saw this leaf cutter bee on a grindelia flower last week. She was moving fast in the late summer sun.

Today, the first serious rain of the year took hold. I saw a drenched longhorn bee trying to shelter in a grindelia flower near Crab Cove. And a honey bee almost immobile on a yellow flower atop the fennel stands.

Their plight reminded me of some lines from John Keats' Ode to Autumn:

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells."

Feral bee takes off

2011-10-02T21:59:00.000-07:00

The honey bee takes off from a stand of fennel. I see sky through the window pane of her wings.