World Bee Day is 20th May 2023. To celebrate, in this blog Geoscience for the Future’s Jen Roberts explores the linkages between geoscience and these important pollinators. Jen is a researcher and Senior Lecturer at the University of Strathclyde, Glasgow. Jen studies rocks, greenhouse gas emissions, and people, all to tackle climate change. Get in touch with her on Twitter @the_JenRoberts.
1. Geoscience and bee habitats
Whether it is the altitude, the outcropping geology, or the landforms: geoscience shapes what habitats there are for bees.
Mountain building and erosion influence the altitude, soils types, and hydrology of our landscapes, which in turn influences what bee species can be found there. Some bees are found only in alpine or mountain environments. Mountains and mountain habitats wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for the plate tectonics, mountain building and erosion!
Outcropping geology shapes the soil types and vegetation in a region, which in turn influences the habitats that establish. For example, whether the wind blown soils of machair habitats in NW Scotland and Ireland, or the limestone soils of the South Downs in SE England, outcropping rocks and erosion processes govern the presence of critical habitats for particular bumblebee species.
Then of course, there’s the role that geoscience plays in there being appropriate homes for bees. Geo-homes include rock piles with cosy gaps in which bees can establish nests or where Queen bees can safely hibernate over winter. Geo-homes also include the right sort of sandy soils where miner bees can tunnel in.
2. Bees and geoscience descriptions
Have you heard of honeycomb weathering? It’s a particular type of weathering of quartz-rich rocks, like sandstones or granites and occasionally in carbonate rocks such as limestones. The effect of weathering creates regular shapes which look like, yup, you guessed it, honeycomb!
Bees influence the words we use to describe rocks and rock features. This is a photo of honeycomb weathering – a type of weathering so-called because of the resemblance to honeycomb structure. Credit: Berenice Melis, Unsplash, 2019, Sharks Bay, Sydney, Australia.
And then there is bumble bee jasper: a particular very stripey type of jasper – a silicate mineral.
Finally, what came first: the miner, or the miner bee? Is the miner bee an example of using geoscience language to describe bees?
Can you think of other ways that we use bees to describe rocks or landforms?
3. Bees and the fossil record
Yes, there are fossil bees. Bees first evolved in the late Cretaceous, which started 100 million years ago. Like in Jurassic Park, some bees are fossilised in amber, whereas others are fossilised in sedimentary rock. These ancient bees are quite different from the species on Earth today, but their lineage can tell us important things about present day bee evolution, resilience, and patterns for the future.
I’ve yet to meet a fossil bee specialist. When I do, I will be bumbled. Sorry: humbled.
4. Geoscience and the evolution of bees
It wasn’t until the Paleogene (66 million years ago) that bees diversified and flourished. Bees evolved from wasps. Carnivorous wasps. When plant life really diversified in the Paleogene, so too did pollen and nectar loving bee species. This is associated with plate tectonics: the breakup of the supercontinent Pangea, the relatively rapid continental dispersion that followed, and the associated drier, cooler, climates than in the previous period – the warm humid Cretaceous. So, driven by geological processes, the changing environments and the interchanges that followed means that the evolution of bees is intrinsically linked to geoscience.
5. Bees and geoscience fieldwork
Okay, this fifth reason isn’t quite as strong as the previous four. Bear with me:
Many geoscientists have a ‘bee story’. Much like they might have a ‘cow story’. Or a ‘tide story’. Whether it is a bee ‘incident’ like a bee in their refreshing lunchtime drink, or a sat-on bee, or, simply a bee encounter.
My first proper bee encounter was during geoscience fieldwork. I found my first bumblebee nest when I was taking field measurements at an outcrop in Cornwall during my undergraduate degree. I stood sketching and taking notes, and noticed subtle action in the long grass nearby: small furry sandy yellow bumblebees were coming and going. You had to watch a while to see: there was only ever one or two in sight at a time. These were Carder Bees. I didn’t know it at the time. I just enjoyed how they carefully, eccentricly crawled through their mossy front door, ignoring me completely.
Relatedly, there is a soundscape of geoscience fieldwork. The scrunch of soil, heather, sand, or rock underfoot, the clicks and scribbles of pens on paper or tablets, the shuffling of equipment, the gurgling stream, the hum of insects, the buzz of bees. In my case, having so many allergies, the occasional reverberating sneeze.
The soundscape of fieldwork is changing worldwide, as insect and bird populations crash due to land management practices, disease, and the climate crisis. It is devastating. However, in some places, there are positive stories to share: of species being reintroduced, bee-friendly practices being supported, populations bouncing back, people helping the odd bee in need.
In many cases, activities to protect and restore bee habitats are linked up with geoscientists. These are the stories to share and celebrate on world bee day.
Can you think of another way that geoscience links with bees? Let us know!
Feature image: A carder bumblebee worker takes a rest on a sunflower. Credit: Ros Pask.
I once did fieldwork with one of those electronic distance measurers that estate agents use to work out the dimension of rooms. No idea how it worked, but I do know that it didn’t work when the bee and cricket hum got too loud!