Originally published in the Manchester Guardian on 11 May 1917

The bees are exceedingly busy amongst the flowers, the stocks and flowering currants perhaps getting most attention in the garden, but the gooseberry bushes and other blossoms on the fruit trees also prove attractive. Enjoying their feast of honey, these insects bustle from flower to flower, poking in their tongues and dusting their hairy heads and bodies with pollen; they comb it off with their legs until their “thighs” are thickly loaded with yellow, brown, or white lumps. The earth bees, many of them ruddy-haired, are the smallest but most numerous; they but lately emerged from pupal sleep, but are now filling their newly-excavated burrows in grass plot, path, or sunny bank with pollen food for their infant grubs which will shortly emerge from the eggs. They have various parasitical enemies, and it is amusing to see them enter the burrow, see that all is well within, back out and back in again, remaining then looking out from their doorway, alert and on guard.

The round-bodied flower bees, many of them with long, hairy legs, are larger; they too, inhabit burrows which they excavate themselves. The biggest of all are the bumble-bees, some banded with brown and black, some with white, some with reddish tails, others warm brown all over, and the biggest and handsomest of all black, with big red tips to their ample abdomens. Often after a feast these bumble-bees are so lethargic that they halt to snooze on the flower heads, the stones, or, at the peril of their lives, on the public paths. If we touch them gently they raise an expostulating leg, one of the second pair, waving away the approaching finger. They do not sting readily; they are far too busy when really awake and too sleepy at other times to be troublesome, but it is well not to handle them roughly.

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Source: Guardian Climate Change