After the Rain

rain-soaked bee recovering after a storm

Yesterday afternoon a tremendous thunderstorm swept through the area, with numerous lightening strikes very close to our house and over an inch of rain. After the storm was over, I wandered around  the yard, assessing the damage, staking with bamboo poles eight- and ten-foot tall Maximilian sunflower plants and four-foot zinnia plants which had toppled in the rain and wind. While doing this, I spied a drenched bee clinging to the back of a zinnia flower. At first, I thought it was dead, perhaps killed by large rain drops, but over the next hour, as I checked periodically, it began to groom itself, and finally, after about an hour, it disappeared. I hope it made its way safely back to its hive.

Where do bees go when it rains?, I wondered. I turned to Google for the answer. The best answers I could find were provided by bee keepers in bee and garden forums. Most of the replies suggested that bees remain in or near their hives when it rains, and if they are out and about during a storm, they are in danger of being killed by raindrops that can overwhelm and drown them. What impressed me most about this bee was that as soon as he could move, he immediately went about trying to collect pollen. The instinctual drive to do their work must be very strong in bees.

drenched bee trying to collect pollen

another drenched bee drying out in the mountain mint patch after a storm

I then became interested in seeing the actions of other garden visitors after this rather severe storm, and I noticed that not long after the rain ceased falling and the sun started showing through the clouds, pollinators had returned to the garden. My mountain mint patch continues to provide opportunities for seeing the most creatures going about their business of survival. The tiny anole was out catching bugs. I have yet to catch him in the act, but I saw him smacking his chops as if ruminating over a fine meal.

tiny anole peeking out from under a mountain mint leaf

I also noticed other tiny bugs that I would not have seen had I not been looking more closely for storm effects: a tiny red and black grasshopper- or cricket-like creature, a black shield bug with white markings, another Delta Flower Scarab that flew away before I could take a photo, several wasp-like bees, a very tiny iridescent blue fly, and the rather odd behavior of a large bee that clung for some time on the side of my garden shed. This bee kept sticking out its proboscis, as if it were tasting the side of the shed--or testing its tongue in some way. The repetitive nature of the bee's sticking out its proboscis suggested some kind of damage to me, but then the bee flew away and acted quite normally. But, really, what do I know is normal to a bee?

a tiny cricket-like bug on a mountain mint leaf

extremely tiny iridescent fly on a mountain mint leaf

bee on garden shed, sticking out its proboscis

It's not just the presence of these creatures that I find amazing; I have an artistic and scientific interest as well. I am enthralled with their beauty, with the color and variation of their markings and with how those markings have evolved as protection or warning. For instance, I often see in the mountain mint a fly with bee-like markings. Is this a bee or a fly? Do the colors warn or fool predators?

fly with bee-like orange and black markings

bee-like fly collecting pollen

As the afternoon faded into evening, I had more questions than answers, and I could hear Tom rattling around in the kitchen, preparing a dinner of tomato and cucumber salad, with vegetables fresh from our garden. But as I took one last turn around the garden, I noticed a bee either settling in for the night or resting before a long flight back to its hive or hole. Or maybe it was just trying to avoid me and my camera.

bee under an althea leaf

Then, while walking up the sidewalk to our patio, I noticed something buzzing around a lily bloom. Of course, I leaned closer to inspect and thus saw for the first time another interesting pollinator, a multi-colored fly-like bee or wasp.

fly-like bee or wasp on a lily

fly-like bee or wasp on lily (taken with a flash)

fly-like wasp or bee on lily (taken with a flash)

Until I started paying attention to pollinators, I had little idea of the diversity of creatures so small we barely notice their existence--unless we deliberately pay attention. Too often our attention is caught only after we begin to suffer the consequences of their diminishing presence.