We made the decision to welcome new life some years ago. My wife and I love our home, and she renders our yard in shades of lantana, Japanese maple, salvia and more. When the temperature permits, we spend mornings and evenings out back on the patio. We may be sipping coffee and soaking in the sounds of nature, or we may be entertaining guests, as we plan to do this weekend to celebrate her birthday.
In fact, it was around her birthday some years ago that I stumbled upon leafcutter bees, and took a chance by ordering some as a gift.
We loved the newest residents. These bees do not dwell together as a hive, but instead live in a bee house we provided for them, built with dozens of horizontal tubes in which they lay eggs. They plug the ends of the tubes with bits of leaves they cut, hence their name. Upon maturing, the new bees emerge from the tubes.
They are disinclined to sting, and when they choose to do so, it is reportedly less painful than that of a honeybee.
But there was a problem.
Careful though I was to hang their bee house in a suitable, shady location, the larvae were targeted by fire ants. For years, I tried to create barriers such as petroleum jelly to keep the ants away. Sometimes the plan succeeded, and other times it did not. We enjoyed seeing our leafcutters zipping among the flowers, pollinating throughout the day, even as we worried about whether they could flourish with the threat of ants.
Last year, we gave up. We resigned ourselves to the fact that we’d seen the last of our beloved, special bees.
After years of fighting the ants, we decided that the writing was on the wall, and that our plan for the leafcutters to thrive here was subject to forces beyond our control.
We lost hope.
Other sorts of wildlife visit, and I love seeing the butterflies in particular. In the evenings we scan the sky for owls and bats as they fly from our yard down the wooded hillside to our north. Perry the possum visits as well, and our dogs greet him with more curiosity than alarm.
A few days ago, my wife rushed inside and told me to come with her, as she had something to show me. She led me to the bee house, still hanging where it has for years.
“They’re back!” she said. I crouched down to look, and sure enough, several of the tubes appeared to be sealed, a telltale sign of leafcutter activity. Then she spotted one’s wiggling fanny as it crawled into a tube.
I don’t understand how it happened, but sure enough, just as we gave up hope, they came back. Maybe they’re back for good, maybe not. But for now, right now, we are grateful for this reunion.
