Bee-ing Nice to the Earth Follow-up

Step 1: Collect the tubes capped with mud. Each
should be filled with several cocoons

Last April we decided to raise mason bees. (If you haven't read the earlier post, "Beeing Nice to the Earth", you should do that now to understand how mason bees differ from honey bees.) This month it was time to see how we did as bee nurturers.

 

Step 2: Split each tube with a razor blade

The capped tubes were removed from the bee "hotel" in September, and kept in a mesh bag until it was time to harvest the cocoons. The only tools needed are a razor blade, some good scissors, a large bowl of cool water, and a storage pan lined with paper towels. Harvesting isn't hard, but it is time-consuming, and we only had a small harvest. I spent two hours opening 25-30 tubes. Part of the problem was that half of those were cardboard tubes, and they were frustratingly hard to tear into. The other tubes were made of reeds, and they were a breeze to split open. A little more expensive, but I decided next spring it's all reeds!

I waited just a little too long to harvest the cocoons. If the cocoons don't get into a cool and humid place by early November, they began to use up their fat stores, which shouldn't happen until spring. I found several cocoons were dry and shriveled. They were pitched, along with ones that had little pinholes in them (See "Step 3") But it was really gratifying to see the healthy cocoons, all lined up neatly in a tube!

After they're removed from the tubes and inspected, the cocoons get a bath in cool water, and then are set out to dry. Once dry, they go into a little plastic bee humidor, and that goes into the fridge. A tablespoon of water every month, and the bees should be good to go come spring. Fingers crossed.

I feel the bee raising experiment was successful, although not wildly so. We purchased 75 bees and ended up with 76 healthy cocoons. I had to pitch about a dozen cocoons, and a few tubes were sealed but empty. Interestingly, toward the end of their life cycle, some mason bee females become disoriented and just start sealing tubes without having laid any eggs. Obviously, we had our share of confused bees.

Next spring I plan to enlarge the mason bee population; we'll order more to add to what hatches from this group. We won't, however, try leaf-cutter bees again. We didn't get a single tube from that type. We did have some spectacular flowers this year, and the biggest paste tomatoes we've ever grown, so maybe the leaf-cutters were good for something. Overall, this was a fun, educational and interesting thing to do, but best of all is the feeling we made our small contribution to the health of the Earth.

Step 3: Tease each cocoon out of it's chamber. Check for pinholes, meaningthat cocoon was attacked by an insect using it as a food source. Pitch. (Note the little mud caps sealing off each cocoon from the others in the tube.)

Step 5:  Put the cocoons in a bee humidor. When the flowering
trees begin to blossom, the cocoons go to the bee "hotel"
(top photo), where, hopefully, they'll emerge, and
get to work pollinating

Step 4: Wash the cocoons in cool water.
They're waterproof, and floating shows the
cocoonis viable.Set them out to dry.
Btw, the larger cocoons are the females.

A (Very) Slight Chill In the Air

"Bunny Hill" garden in mid-summer

In October, there are a few last minute things to do to complete the putting-the-yard-to-bed job begun in September. I finished drying and storing herbs, some grass seed was spread, house plants that got to enjoy the great outdoors came back inside. The gardens may look barren, but they're very much alive and just waiting for spring. Bean Hill's plants and people all get to enjoy a little down-time.

"Bunny Hill" garden in mid-Autumn

October is the month when we usually have the first hard freeze. On October 26, the night-time low dipped into the upper 20's, and that put an end to the growing season. This is the month we often see the first snow flurry, and on the morning of October 30, the rain briefly turned to snow before turning back to rain. The flurries melted on contact with any surface, but it still counts as snow, at least here at Bean Hill.

October is also the month when migrating red-wing blackbirds stop by for a day or two, on the flight south, to take advantage of the native plant and human-provided food sources. When they are about to resume their trip, they gather by the hundreds in the tops of trees, and make quite a racket with their distinctive whistling for an hour or so. All at once, they fall silent--every one of them--and then it's lift-off, and goodbye until the end of February.

Frosted zinnia

For you statistics followers: The warm second-half of September led into an October in which sixteen days registered daytime temperatures of 6-17° above normal. Eleven of those days were 12-17° higher than average, a substantial departure from the norm. The average high temperature at Bean Hill this October (69°) was four degrees higher than the historic average.

Eighteen night-time temperatures were above average, with eight of those being 15-20° higher than normal. Despite eight nights of temperatures well above average, the month's average low (46°) was only one degree higher than the historic average.

Rainfall totaled 3.66", which was 1.05" above average. Personally, I'd rather see above average rainfall (as long as it doesn't get carried away), than below average. Drought scares me more than mud and mold.

Red-wing blackbirds gather and then...

The migration resumes

Rebmetpes--September, Backwards

September is a bittersweet month. The long summer days are shortening, the light slants differently, and shadows are longer. Nature changes color as days and nights cool, and all around, there's a busy feeling of pulling inward in preparation for winter. September, like April, is a particularly busy time at Bean Hill. We think of the month as putting-the-yard-to-bed time, with an eye to spring. Ornamental grasses and perennials are cut back, and the flower-heads from the echinacea and rudbeckia are strewn through the meadows to establish new plants for next year. Annuals are removed from pots, and the soil goes into the compost heap. Smaller trees get "caged" to keep the deer from damaging them. Garden statuary and outdoor furniture are stored away. Netting and a heater are added to the pond to keep the fish and frogs safe from predators and ice. Suet feeders that draw in woodpeckers, nuthatches, and titmouses come out of summer storage. The grass gets mowed and the gardens get edged one last time. September is a busy month.

September begins as a warm, sometimes hot month in Central Ohio, but by the time of the Autumn Equinox, the sun's changed position enough that day and night-time temperatures are cooling noticeably. Over the month of September, we usually go from drinking ice tea to hot tea, or even hot chocolate, at the end of a day of yard work. Not so this year.

This September, nature did a flip-flop in Central Ohio, although you wouldn't know that looking only at the high and low average temperatures for the month. In fact, the average high for 2017 matched the historic average high, and the average low was actually 2.1⁰ below the historic average. September's days were evenly divided: 15 days registered below normal high temperatures, and 15 days were above normal. Eleven of the below normal temperature days ranged from 6-20⁰ below the historic average for the day; eleven of the above normal temperature days ranged 6-20⁰ above the historic average. 

The perfect symmetry of the data resulted in a perfectly average "average" high for the month, but doesn't convey the reality of the month's temperature readings. The 15 days of below normal highs happened at the beginning of the month, and the 15 days of above normal highs all came at the end of the month, setting us up for a warmer than normal October. The cool days and nights of the first half of September, coupled with the right amount of rain, caused many of the trees to begin to turn color--ahead of schedule--and some trees shed their leaves entirely. Since mid-September, however, the trees have stopped in their color-changing-leaf-shedding tracks, and are in much the same state as this time last year, still pretty green. (Last year most trees stayed green well into November, and dry weather muted colors when leaves finally did begin to change.) Don't get me wrong--there's nothing wrong with green, but those joyous reds, oranges, and yellows bring a smile and make the hard work a bit easier.