June 12, 2015
Indigo Pollinators
Insect pollinators have been in the news a lot lately and, for the most part, the reports have not been good. Powerful pesticides combined with a lack of suitable habitat and consecutive years of severe weather have taken their toll on these vital organisms.
Apis melifera, our familiar yet nonnative honey bee, today is prone to a range of parasites and pathogens as well as the mysterious colony collapse disorder—a phenomenon that likely is due to the cumulative effect of many negative impacts. And Illinois’s state insect, the monarch butterfly, has experienced steep population declines—estimated at 90%–over the past few decades, to the point where it is now being considered for federal protection as an endangered species.
So you can imagine my joy the other morning when, walking in the Hickory Knolls Natural Area, I spotted a cloud–not of rain, nor smoke, but rather insect pollinators! Several species of solitary bees, along with assorted beetles, were clustered about the flowers of Amorpha fruticosa, or indigo bush. The wee beasties were busy as, well, bees (and beetles), taking full advantage of what must have been a bounty of pollen and nectar.
Before we go any further, I have to tell you, indigo bush is one of my absolute favorite flowering shrubs. I well remember the first time I spotted it, growing along the east bank of the Fox River in North Aurora. Its flowers’ stunning hues of royal purple and deep orange literally stopped me in my tracks. Equally intriguing was the way these blooms were arranged, in long clusters at the end of the plant’s erect branches.
The leaves reminded me of a locust tree, but it wasn’t until I got back to my office, and our copy of Kane County’s Wild Plants and Natural Areas, the “bible” of local flora penned by naturalist icon Dick Young, that I found out why. After identifying the plant as indigo bush, I read that it, like honey locust and black locust, is a member of the Fabaceae—the legume family.
Mr. Young also noted that indigo bush’s “attractive 5″ flower spikes are a lacy, stamen-laden blend of orange, purple and blue in early June and are followed by inconspicuous seed clusters soon shredded by small birds.” Sure enough, a month or so later, when I went back to look at this gorgeous new, or at least new-to-me shrub, little remained of the tiny pods the flowers had formed.
Back to the other day… I was walking along the natural area trail we refer to as the Archery Road, scurrying to meet up with our group of morning walkers, the Happy Hikers. (Shameless plug: The group is led by ace naturalist Jeanette Joy, and meets every Wednesday; summer start time is 8am at the Discovery Center’s front entrance. Fee is free! Just let me know if you’d like more info.)
At any rate, as I passed a bank of indigo bush, the cloud of insects caught my eye. I halfway expected them to be mosquitoes, given the number of pokes I’d felt already that morning. But no. Although some were not much bigger than a skeeter, the insects were definitely not in search of blood.
A wonderful variety of native bees—dark ones, lighter ones; some yellow and
black; some green—bounced between the richly hued blooms. Hover flies, whose bold stripes make them look very bee-like, swooped in as well and moved from flower to flower. A ctenucha moth, its black wings providing stark contrast to its orange head and iridescent dark blue body, fluttered in too to take a sip or two of what was proving to be some very popular nectar.
I was standing in front of the flowers, mesmerized, when the Hikers came along. Together we watched the spectacle and marveled at the activity inspired by pollen and nectar. We were about to move along when another creature joined the party amid the petals. A honey bee!
The newcomer was notable in a number of ways. For one, even though she was just an average-sized worker bee, she appeared giant next to her native counterparts. Her fuzzy, pollen-flecked body actually made the flower spike droop a bit as she crawled around its surface.
The honey bee’s appearance got me wondering from which hive she had come. Was it one of the dozen or so hives behind Hickory that are managed by our friend, and beekeeper, Chris Saad? Had she flown from the Bee Tree, an old oak with a cavity full of honey bees, also behind our building? Or perhaps another, yet-undiscovered, wild colony on the property?
There’s also a chance that Ms. Worker Bee originated from Hickory Knolls’ newest exhibit, Pollin8, which features an indoor hive where people can watch the industrious insects at work. Made possible by a generous donation from the St. Charles Kiwanis Club, the observation hive provides a unique glimpse into the everyday lives of a few thousand dedicated pollinators.
It’s our hope that the display, combined with education by our interpretive naturalists, can help spread the word that pollinators of all types could use our help. Limiting the use of lawn chemicals, and opting to landscape with native plant species—like indigo bush—can’t hurt, and in fact just might help pull our beneficial insects from their current slump. And if that’s not good news, I don’t know what is.
Pam Erickson Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.