Maternal Instinct
The bee hotel referred to in the last post is actually a maternity ward. There are now eight or nine holes filled by the Orange Tailed Bees with eggs and what they need when they hatch. I have also seen the bees dig out the holes after an Ichneumon wasp has visited and taken advantage, by laying her eggs in or on the bee’s eggs.
I suppose they are more a resin bee as they line and seal the nests with resin collected from somewhere nearby. Then they finish off with a layer of earth so the hole doesn’t look much different from the surrounding wood. They are very particular about this finishing process and it is the only time to get a shot of them, when they are in the open and fully focused on the nest. And until they finish a nest site they usually sleep in the hole and can be seen pulsing in the night light of a good torch.
It is still very early in the year for bees and wasps so I expect there will be ample opportunity to observe the comings and goings about the bee’s ‘holed log’ hotel. And they are not the only bees to take up nesting there but the others are just too fast and small so far, to get any pix.
Another curious structure has begun to appear at small holes around the house, and on another log of different wood that I also drilled for nesting creatures. It’s a wasp’s nest to which there is a mud tunnel for an entrance which the wasp takes much time to build. After the wasp is done the tunnel disappears and the hole is plugged with mud.
All just going about their business, except for the ubiquitous ants who go about everybody else’s business, it seems – raiding smaller bee’s nests, at a cost. So I make it that the ants can’t have everything by hanging the nests from a rope or chain and make it impassable without wings.
Such is living in this little piece of urban jungle.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox
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My Beautiful Babes …
To bee …
In the field and forest of late I only found a few at sundown, my pretty gals, huddled against the coming night’s cold and condensation under a clear dark sky. It got very cold suddenly, noticeably, recently, from one night to the next. The same day the Mother Huntsman disappeared from her nest of spiderlings. And just as sudden, the wildlife all but disappeared from my usual haunts.
There might be a boy amongst them but bees just ‘feel’ female to me, the native Oz ones anyway. And that’s good enough for me, the ‘feel’ of it, in the absence of ‘fact’ which is often obtained by killing the little ones. Not a practise I agree with or see the need for, except we are always interfering, can’t keep our noses out of things. Busy, busy, busy, just like the bees except they aren’t trying to change the world or leave their mark. Not like us people anyway.
But everybody is doing their best according to their knowledge and capacity. The ‘spiritual’ life is not easy. The simplicity of it is just too much ‘absence – a void’ for most people who are used to excited, even feverish, activity – no less the religionists.
I don’t mean to separate the spiritual from the so-called mundane but there is a point at which living can be said to become spiritual though not as any religion would have us believe – as can be seen from daily recorded worldwide events, religion is no measure of spirituality.
Belief being the childish or immature abrogation of ones authority as opposed to the child-like, the innocence of a child’s unburdened intelligence necessary to be free of belief in order to question freely.
That point could be said to be realised when one has had enough of being busy, or sticking their nose in, when the greater need is seen to be for peace of mind than any exercise of it. And it’s a long time coming, as anyone who has had it come to them can tell.
I am not suggesting anyone give anything up. I am just saying it as it is for me, because by the means of publishing this it has a life of its own beyond anything I could design. So I just do my best to say what I have to say without fear or favour, or consideration of self, and let my work speak for itself – I’m sure it speaks to some one, somehow.
These Bees are my great little beauties, for now. It is correct to say I love them, as I do every creature I come in contact with, in a way – they have no artifice. But the Bees are a particular attraction for me. And when I’m with them I treat them with great care and respect for their body and being. That is what is meant by ‘dominion over’, love and not exploitation rights.
It could be said I am exploiting their being and that is true in a way, but my obvious practise and intent demonstrates otherwise, I work ‘with’ them.
Though if you see otherwise I’d like to hear it, really. So I might make myself clearer, or understand better.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab
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Wake Up Call
It was early morning – my month is half and half, early and not so. About 6.00am, it had been an open sky during the night so it was coldish, relatively so. I went looking for any creatures that were visible, maybe late to rest in the afternoon and so ‘on top’ of things rather than hidden as so many are.
I went out the back yard and saw this tiny bee, or wasp, it’s so difficult to know at times, and thought it must be cool enough not to take much notice of me. But as soon as I got close she was away. Away about two feet to the flowers on the Crown of Thorns, the name given to a plant that grows out back.
It seemed frisky enough but I approached again where it was on the flower and it didn’t fly away this time but moved around the flower to get away from me, perhaps having exhausted it’s early supply of flight supporting energy. I took the opportunity to put a small drop of honey on a flower and as the bee wasn’t flying away I used my finger to nudge it in the direction of the honey.
When it got to the honey there was no distracting it. It was totally absorbed in the sweetness and surge of sensation it must have been to it. Heaven I’d say, to a bee on a cool morning in the shade. It drank a while and moved a little now and then and when it finally had enough it preened itself for a while, as they do, then flew away well prepared for an active day.
And not a word of complaint about the missing half of one antennae.
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Then a little while later a Golden Spiny Ant came along, about twice as long as the bee – you can see from the size relative to the drop of honey, it’s the same drop. And it was enraptured, wouldn’t you be? Honey, the rarest of foods for free at the most opportune time, breakfast, heaven indeed.
The ant made the most of it. And when it had enough it too went on its way. Not a thought from either to hoard or take more than was needed in the moment. Trusting nature will provide, instinctively, out in the wild yonder of the natural metropolis.
Wild little beauties both.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab
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A Time For …
… bees again?
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There are Banana trees in the back yard that the Possum and Bats, Flying Foxes they are called, love to eat from when the fruit is ripe enough. I’m watchful to get a few myself this year, as last. The trouble with the trees though is they are big and one recent day I went out and noticed one of them had been cut down, the one that was about to fall on the neighbours shed, that I was going to cut down anyway. Well, a little something I didn’t have to do, no harm.
And I have had to cut down a few of them to keep them from becoming a nuisance, to the civilisation of back yards bordering onto each other, or falling on the clothes line, or the person below. One I cut down was about, what, 20ft tall? And it fell towards the Frangipani, one with lovely red flowers, and broke an extensive piece off it. So, not to waste or leave it for the passers by that took last years cuttings I planted it in the front garden. I’ve been doing a lot of work in the front garden, for the flowers and bugs and photos.
It’s not as if I haven’t done this before but such a large piece, about five feet tall and branched, I wasn’t sure it would work. I plant it in the ground, in a spot it fits, some might say ‘it likes’, and water it enough to keep it from drying out and losing its leaves. It seems to be working; at least it has new shoots and is showing no ill signs so far, maybe a little soft at the extremities.
What I do every day is fill a bucket with water and every now and then go and pour enough to drench the ground, a brown clay soil, and as I said it seems to be working and in about 10 or so years will provide shade in that corner from the setting sun.
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The thing is whenever I go to the bucket and look in I often find some creature that has fallen in the water and hasn’t found a way out yet. So I take care of that first, put a finger under the creature and bring it to the top of a branch and let it off to dry out on the Frangipani tip. Where it sits and grooms itself, wanders about, tastes the water, and sometimes falls back in the bucket below – that’s livin.
The other thing is most of what I find are bees, tiny bees that I have seen nowhere else but in the water bucket. Isn’t that an odd thing? They are less than 1cm long, 10mm, barely visible except for something to see them against. If it wasn’t for all that preceded it I would not know of these particular bees, the ones from the yellow water bucket.
How one thing always leads to another, everything has consequences. Some can be predicted, and some only generally so. But the wonder is in the not knowing. You can try and work it all out but what a mental waste, just wait and see.
You never know what nature is going to show up or where. But one thing’s for sure; you’ll see more of it if you are out in it.
Whatever ‘it’ is. Sense, nature, getting the hands dirty, seeing, smelling, doing whatever.
It’s a pleasure.
Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
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Nature's Place 
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