Plants with Purpose - The Case of the Invisible Virgin

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Plants with Purpose - The Case of the Invisible Virgin

THERE I WAS , peaceably picnicking outside on a hot summer’s day, when a heart-sinking Noise was heard overhead. At first, I pretended to ignore it, but the Noise (the unmistakeable song of elated, swarming bees) was directly overhead and I thought it might behove me to go in and close the doors for a while. Gloomily I watched the swarm joyously pass the window and head off in the direction of Main Street, never to be seen again.

Bees swarm when the going is good, the hive overcrowded, and the weather sumptuous. To relieve congestion they build a special cell to raise a new queen. When it’s nearly ready to hatch, the old queen takes off, with half the colony and half the honey, to find a new home. They are inordinately happy about this, which is why swarming bees rarely sting and need not be feared. It is the solemn duty of the beekeeper to stop her bees building queen cells and making off with the honey. One in which I had obviously failed!

However, when we checked them, all four honey boxes were still pretty full with honey, and bees. If the swarm was ours, at least it was a small one. But there were no eggs and queen cells – suggesting that the old queen had probably gone. Moreover, the bees fizzed – a kind of discontented noise beekeepers recognise as a Bad Sign. After some deliberation and optimistic tinkering, we left one queen cell to hatch.

Nine days later, still no eggs, but the queen cell had opened. At this point, the good beekeeper will spot the queen running around among the workers. But even if I remembered my glasses, and she were wearing pink Lycra and sporting neon lights, I doubt I would ever see her. We went through the hive three times, but no distinctive, long-bodied female was visible. Had we squashed her? Was she a dud? “Don’t panic!” John Taylor told us, “Virgin queens are very dark and run like the devil – she’ll be there somewhere!”

So we waited another six days. During that time the sun seared and it was perfect bee-mating weather. Virgins only leave the hive for sex, and the weather has to be good, otherwise the drones won’t be out hovering on street corners waiting for the apian talent to pass. When a virgin queen whizzes by, the drones give chase, and the fastest get to mate. Whether they could be called lucky is debateable, because they then drop off (literally) with exhaustion, leaving their bits behind. The smug lady returns home to a lifetime of egg-laying.

Anyway, six days later, we opened the hive to a contented purr from the bees. Excellent – no fizzing! And in the brood chamber, bee larvae, pupae and eggs already occupied seven frames! Our invisible virgin was virgin no more! But still invisible I’m afraid… will I ever get the hang of this?

©Margaret Lear