I was admiring my landlord’s 1950 Hudson Super 8 one sunny afternoon, taking pictures of the car and talking to him and my neighbor about cars and life. The car was parked just off the graveled roundabout in front of my apartment building, and clear of two great trees on the lot. As we three men stood talking, I noticed several yellow, bee-like insects whipping around my landlord’s body. I glanced nervously down at my own body, and then pointed out the bees to him. “I’m ok,” he said. “I’m ignoring them. They’ll go away. They bother you?” he asked. “I’m getting ready to scream and run,” I said. I did not admit that I shrieked a little, in my mouth.
When I was a youngster in Pittsburgh Pa., I walked past a great bush on my way to school. A bee swarm had developed in that bush, and I saw some older kids playing a cruel game. They would open their hands, center a bee between the palms, and clap the bee dead. I imitated the big boys, and squashed a few bees. One day, I executed the “bee slap” on the way past the bush and after taking a few steps I was electrocuted by the still-alive bee, which stung my palm. I was then, a “young and callow fellow,” but that lesson lives within me, forever.
According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), honeybees pollinate 80 percent of the crops that produce 1/3 of the products that we eat. A USDA report on colony collapse disorder notes that, “Bee pollination is responsible for more than $15 billion in increased crop value each year.” I did not need to be squashing bees as a child. The bees of my youth were not the aggressive, “Africanized” versions we have today. They were just buzzing, hiving, pollinating and making honey. And now, their colonies are collapsing.
A report by the Agricultural Research Service notes that honeybee colony collapses were “exacerbated in the 1980s with the arrival of new pathogens and pests.” A couple of the pests are Varroa and tracheal mites; one of the pathogens is manufactured and broadly described as neonicotinoids. A post from Forbes.com identified neonicotinoids as an insecticide “chemically similar to nicotine.” (Drone to the queen: “Honey, I’m going out for a smoke.”) Researchers working with the Worcester County Beekeepers Association in Massachusetts, “exposed 12 colonies … to a sub-lethal (amount)” of three insecticides that included neonicotinoids. The exposure was damaging to six of the twelve hives. Our attempts to control the insects that damage our crops are resulting in damage to the insects that pollinate those crops.
The Agricultural Research Service report continues: “If (colony collapse losses) continue … it could threaten the economic viability of the bee pollination industry. Honey bees would not disappear entirely, but the cost of honey bee pollination services would rise, and those increased costs would ultimately be passed on to consumers through higher food costs.”
The “bee” that had me shrieky on that sunny day was, in truth, a yellow jacket, which is akin to a wasp. (Yellow jackets are more likely to sting than honeybees though, early and often.) But various news agencies have reported on the 32-year-old landscaper who was attacked and killed by a swarm of bees from a hive that was estimated to have 800,000 bees. We all live our lives with the potential for disaster; nothing we do is entirely safe. Having said that, and despite my “bee-phobia,” I do many more things that are likely to cause my death than might a bee sting.