Manna from heaven

Maisie found it first. As usual on our walks, she was running ahead of me, Labrador nose to the ground, sniffing. She stopped and gave something on the trail her full attention. Sniffing and licking. “Leave it Maisie,” I said, instinctively thinking it was probably something long-dead and Maisie was about to drop a shoulder and roll in it. She obeyed my command and stood there looking at me as I walked up to the object. It wasn’t something long-dead and reeking of decay. It was a piece of honeycomb, still attached to the fragment of wood from which it had hung. Perfect hexagons of wax, many half filled with honey.

I looked up at the tree above, wondering (doubting) if I would be able to see where it had come from. There it was: honeycomb hanging in a large hollow where a branch had long since come off. It was at least fifty metres up, a spot where the crown of this old forest giant had come off, leaving a jagged edge. Fire and fungi had done their work, creating a hollow. Honey bees had moved in and claimed it. I could clearly see the honeycomb hanging on the underside of the ‘roof’. (If you zoom in on the photo below, you can just see it, high up on the black bit where the old branch has broken off.)

Honeybees are not native to Australia. There are over 1700 species of native bee in Australia, but the ones that form large communal hives used in commercial production are European honey bees. The ones in this hive high in the karri tree would be descendants of domestic bees, which were introduced early in the nineteenth century to ensure honey supply and crop pollination. Like many other introduced species, some escaped to the wild and thrived. They are now distributed widely across the continent, inhabiting all areas except dry deserts and high alpine regions. While they are essential pollinators for many agricultural and horticultural crops (Agrifutures Australia estimates 35 per cent of crops need honeybees to pollinate and up to 75 per cent gain some benefit from honeybee pollination), their impact on native species is not always positive. They reportedly visit the flowers of many native plants and in so doing interact with many native animals. The effect of these interactions is largely unknown, but for some native plants it is probably detrimental. 

The evolution of flowers and pollinators is such that some species rely uniquely on each other. Native bees often behave differently to European honeybees when they visit flowers. A proportion of Australian plant species rely on ‘buzz pollination’, which involves the flowers’ anthers being vibrated to release the pollen. Many species of Australian native bees do this, but European honey bees do not. This means that when honeybees visit these flowers, they might manage to take nectar but they won’t transfer pollen effectively from one flower to another. No pollen transfer, no pollination, no seed set. The honeybee takes a free lunch, in this case at least. Some native bees have other adaptations, such as long tongues (long being relative!), specifically in tune with particular native flowers.

Then there is of course the reality that feral honeybees use habitat that could be used by native animals. Tree hollows are especially prized real estate in forests. It can take many decades for hollows to form, and that’s after a tree has grown large enough to house one. If there aren’t big old trees around, there aren’t very many hollows. And hollows are needed by many species, including possums, pythons, parrots, cockatoos, and some types of ducks (yes, some ducks nest high in trees and their ducklings tumble down after hatching and make their way, with their parents, to water). So the hollow high in the tree that ‘my’ honeycomb fell from, could have been used by all sorts of other creatures if it wasn’t being used as a bee hive.

Still, I’m not advocating getting rid of European honeybees - far from it! I’m quite a bee fan. (I even gave them a chapter in my book What’s for Dinner? because they are very important for our food supply.) But I’m also a fan of native bees. My skills at identifying them are sadly lacking, but I was delighted to see native blue banded bees in the garden when we moved here last January. Along with the ubiquitous honeybees. I’m happy to have them about as well. And I do love honey. Which brings me back to that piece of honeycomb lying on the walking trail.

I was home before it occurred to me that I could harvest the honey from it. I was home and the honeycomb was still lying on the trail. It crossed my mind that I could go back and get it, but doing so would require going back up and over the hill (and the same again to get home) and by that time the rain had set in and it really was time to be thinking about cooking dinner. So I left it, promising myself I’d go back the next morning.

I duly set off with a plastic bag in my pocket. Maisie again ran ahead and let me know exactly where the honeycomb was, which was exactly where it had been the previous day. I inspected it more closely. Most of the honey cells were uncapped. When bees are satisfied that the honey is at the right consistency, they seal the cells with wax, which preserves and protects the honey. Uncapped honey is usually unripe and will go off if harvested. Much of the rest of the honeycomb was brood cells, some of which were sealed and some of which were still open, the tiny bee larvae visible curled up inside. I decided the honeycomb was not worth taking home to harvest so left it there, a tasty treat for ants and birds. Perhaps the honeybees would come down and re-harvest their own honey. I walked on, making a mental note to myself that I would keep an eye out for future windfalls from the hive. Manna from heaven, so to speak.

Inside

Last week I did two events organised by the City of Swan at the Old Midland Courthouse. Numbers for the author talk and the workshop were on the low side, but those that were there were delightful and we had great discussions about food, farming, environment and writing.

While in Perth I dropped in on a couple of bookshops. Four months since my book came out and I’m still thrilled every time I see it on the shelf. It’s always delightful to meet the people who are actually selling my book (although it’s still surreal when they present a pile and ask me to sign them!).

My next event is with Matthew Evans at Fat Pig Farm in Tasmania later this month. Tickets for that one are now available.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Jill