It's National Pollinator Week!

National Pollinator Week is an annual celebration in support of pollinator health. It's a prime time to raise awareness for pollinators and to share what people can do to protect them. This year, it is observed June 20–26.

We can think of no better way to spread the word than to share the following piece written by Maryland Master Naturalist and Arboretum volunteer Laura Blaylock.

If we want to help the pollinators, perhaps we should start by making our gardens nature friendly. Although 20 percent of plants are wind pollinated, the remaining 80 percent of flowering plants rely on species such as birds, bats, marsupials, rodents, and insects. The bulk of pollination is accomplished by insects such as wasps, flies, butterflies, moths, ants, flower beetles, and our focus today, BEES.

According to Brigit S. Howard in her book Dancing With Bees, there are 352,000 species of bees and 350,000 species of flowering plants worldwide that have been evolving together over millions of years. Some flowers are specialists and coexist with a specific pollinator. For example, bumblebees pollinate tomatoes by diving into the blossom and vibrating to loosen the pollen, which they mix with either saliva or nectar and store in special pouches that look like saddlebags when they are full. Bumblebees can carry 50 percent of their body weight in pollen.

A queen bumblebee will mate in autumn and immediately dig a tunnel where she will hibernate for six to eight months. When she emerges in spring, she is hungry and looking for early flowering catkins to feed on, such as willow, witch hazel, and pussywillow, whose catkins provide protein-rich pollen and carbohydrate-rich nectar when little else is in bloom.

Next, she will search for a pile of dead leaves, an abandoned mouse or vole nest, a compost heap, or even a nice piece of rotting wood to build her nest in. Competition for prime nesting sites is stiff, and she will need to defend her spot from other bees.

A single mom, she sits on her brood just like a bird and vibrates her wings to produce heat. She has a pot of nectar and pollen near the door and will pop out for a quick forage if necessary. The larvae hatch in four days and pupate in two weeks. The first to hatch are females who will forage for the queen. When the queen begins to lay male eggs that have only her DNA, that is the beginning of the end of the colony. Her daughters will stop foraging for her, the males will fly off in search of a mate, and the hive will disintegrate. The lifespan of the bumblebee nest is 18 weeks, so there may be two to three colonies per year.

Photo by Kellen McCluskey

Brought over from Europe in colonial times, honeybees pollinate almond trees, apples, clover, canola, alfalfa, sunflowers, and blueberries. They can sting.

On the other hand, the many native bees of all shapes and sizes do not sting. There is even a native squash bee that pollinates squash, gourds, and pumpkins. Most of our native bees are solitary and are thought to have evolved from early solitay hunting wasps. Bees feed their larvae a vegetarian diet of pollen and nectar. Wasps feed their larvae a diet of prey.

When you walk around, look for little round holes with a pile of dirt next to them. These may be mining bees. Unlike bumblebees, these do not have pollen sacks on their legs. Instead, they have a messy appearance, with long hairs that catch the pollen. Since they do not moisten the pollen with saliva or nectar, it is still viable. Thus, a miner bee is up to 100 times more efficient at pollinating than a bumblebee. Mining bees like short grass or a "bee bank" of mounded compact soil in a sunny south-facing area. They will dig a main tunnel, then side tunnels and egg chambers. Their bodies produce an antifungal secretion that they use to waterproof the egg chambers. Some mining bees spend up to 11 months of their lives living underground.

Cavity-nesting bees, on the other hand, must forage for and protect their nests with mud, sand, or even cut leaves.

If you are interested in building bee boxes, they will need to be managed for predatory wasps, moths, egg-laying flies, mold, and woodpeckers.

In summary, to help our native bees, think about planting willow trees, witch hazel, and pussy willow. Leave a pile of dead leaves and fallen branches somewhere in your yard. Have high grass for animal habitat and low grass for ground-dwelling bees. Limit pesticide use, and fill your yard with flowering plants such as boneset, Joe-Pye weed, goldenrod, swamp milkweed, and mountain mint to extend the season. A little effort on our part could mean a world of difference for our pollinators.

Laura Blaylock is a Master Naturalist who would rather be walking through the woods if she is not in the garden. She notes that there is always something delightful to notice in either place.

This Weekend at the Arboretum

Spots are still available in two wonderful programs offered this weekend:

Saturday, join John Gillespie, a retired professor of evolution, for Damselflies & Dragonflies at 10 a.m. The Arboretum streams and wetlands host a large number of dragonfly and damselfly species. They are beautiful creatures with complex behaviors, and it's all on display if you take the time to look. In this indoor-outdoor program, John will talk about local species and lead a walk to see who's flying around. Click here to register.

Sunday, a Summer Wildlife Walk with Margan Glover will explore habitats and locate the denizens that keep the Arboretum humming when life's pace picks up in warmer months. Look for blooming flowers in the wetland, Jack-in-the-pupit in the woods, butterflies, dragonflies, and more. The walk begins at 1 p.m., and all ages are welcome. Register here.

Each program is free for members and $5 for non-members (the fee includes Arboretum admission). In the event of rain, Saturday's program will be rescheduled for Saturday, July 2. We hope to see you!

Photo by Kellen McCluskey

Don't-Miss Fall Events

Registration is up and running for fall events! Register now for Shore Shakespeare's performances of Measure for Measure on September 3 and 4, a concert by Session Americana on September 11, Fairyfest on October 1, and Beer Garden with local favorites Dell Foxx Company on October 22.

Advance registration is required and is limited to 400 participants per event, so reserve those spots today! Click here to view (and register for) events.

From top: Shore Shakespeare (photo by Mike Morgan), Session Americana,

Fairyfest (photo by Kellen McCluskey), Dell Foxx Company

Nature Notes

A recent post on turtles and their preferred food lured me into the woods today in search of mayapples. Earlier rain made the bridge slick; I walked carefully, stepping around the star-shaped sweetgum leaves that were plastered to the wood. The rain had swelled the tannin-stained stream and heightened the sound of running water farther upstream. A lone mosquito whined in my ear, mixing with the whine of a plane overhead.

As soon as I turned onto the Lower Blockston Branch, mayapples crowded the path, their deeply lobed leaves wider than my splayed hand. Like the skunk cabbages, their leaves were yellowing along the edges, and some had toppled onto the loamy forest floor. Described by many as umbrella-like, Podophyllum peltatum could indeed shelter a toad, mouse, or other small animal.

When I passed this way earlier in the spring, white flowers starred the double-leaved stems. (Stems with single leaves will not produce flowers.) By June, the flowers had given way to chartreuse fruit, hickory nut-sized and shaped like a lemon. I squeezed the fruit gently—still firm. If eaten now, the fruit would be toxic, like all other parts of the plant. Only when soft, yellow, and slightly wrinkled is the fruit edible, and even then only in very small quantities and minus the seeds. Reports of mayapple poisoning are numerous; I tell my students they are highly toxic and leave it at that.

One time, I ate a mayapple in the company of a knowledgeable forager. It was delicious and reminiscent of a sweet plum. I’ve never chanced it again. Native Americans used parts of the plant medicinally but also to commit suicide and to kill insects. Today, podophyllotoxin from mayapples is used in some prescription medication and to stop the division of cancer cells.

Common names for mayapple include ground lemon, American mandrake, and wild mandrake. Podophyllum peltatum is not the same plant as true mandrake, a member of the nightshade family referenced by Shakespeare, medieval myths, and spells. Although abundant at the Arboretum, mayapple populations are dwindling, so it’s best not to remove them from the shady, deciduous forests where they thrive. Long-tongued bees and other insects depend on their pollen, and box turtles, opossums, raccoons, and skunks enjoy their fruit.

Jim Wilson encouraged me to write about mayapples after reading mountain folklore cautioning that young girls who pull up mayapple root will soon become pregnant. I am not young, and the Eastern Shore landscape is as far removed from mountains as any. Wrapping my hand around the base of a stem, I pulled. The thick reddish brown tubers and creeping underground rhizomes remained firmly in place. I released the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and started back.

Jenny Houghton

Assistant Director

Photo of Jenny with mayapple by Ann Rohlfing