Detail of a cuckoo bee sleeping suspended from a developing spicebush berry |
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A cuckoo bee sleeps suspended from a developing spicebush berry |
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A cuckoo bee uses its impressive mandibles to stay attached to a spicebush leaf |
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As the sun burns off the morning cold, this cuckoo bee will soon wake and begin its day |
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Spicebush flowers host an array of pollinators |
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Spicebush pollen coats a tiny ant as it makes its way through the flowers |
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Bees are specially adapted to pick up pollen |
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Covered in dew, a bee fly rests on a newly formed spicebush leaf |
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Cuckoo Bees (by Anna Maria Johnson) The cuckoo bee has earned its name by behaving in a manner akin to the cuckoo bird—by laying her eggs in the nests of other bees rather than by building her own. In the case of cuckoo bees, they use only the nests of solitary bees (such as mining and mason bees)—never of social bees like honeybees—and each genus and species of cuckoo bees is associated with a specific genus and species of solitary bee. Nomada species, for instance, will only use the nests of Andrena (mining) bees. There is a fantastic word to describe this behavior: cleptoparasitic (sometimes spelled kleptoparasitic). Like a kleptomaniac and a parasite rolled into one, these bees steal the nests of other bees so that their young can feed on the provisions that the host prepared for its own young. The host’s child is killed in this process, sometimes by the invading mother as she deposits her egg and sometimes later by the emerging larvae. This may sound like an alien horror movie, but we can appreciate these creatures for their way of life that has evolved over millennia. In ecology, every link and every creature matters. According to scholars, cleptoparasites play a vital role in stabilizing bee populations and may even serve as indicator species for their hosts. If specific types of cuckoo bees are around, for example, then you know you have stable populations of the particular bees they need to live on. Seeing a cuckoo bee of the Nomada genus lets us know there must be healthy populations of mining bees around, even if I haven’t seen them. Solitary bee species can be hard to find and count, so it’s helpful to let their associated cleptoparasite species stand in as an indicator that their populations are doing okay. But why not also appreciate them for being a species unto themselves? Because of their marauding lifestyle, they have evolved a pointy abdomen so that they resemble wasps more than bees. They lack some of the hairiness and structures of other bees since they don’t need to collect pollen to store up for their babies; they can simply rely on the pollen their host species collects. They have incredibly strong mandibles useful for spearing their hosts but also great for chomping onto a leaf so that they can rest for the night dangling by their jaws. Setting aside their birthing process, I find them adorable; don’t you? References
Sheffield, C.S., Pindar, A., Packer, L. et al. The potential of cleptoparasitic bees as indicator taxa for assessing bee communities. Apidologie 44, 501–510 (2013). https://doi.org/10.1007/s13592-013-0200-2 |
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Anna Maria Johnson is an author, teacher, and gardener in the Shenandoah Valley. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts in 2012 and completed training with the Headwaters Chapter of Virginia Master Naturalists in 2021. She has written several books for young audiences for Cavendish Square Publishing. |
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