The Birds and the Bees

 

An old gardening friend from the city visited my wife and me one day in 1957. After I showed him around my little farm, he told me it would be the perfect place to keep honey bees-especially since I didn't use any poisons. It wasn't long before he had brought a dozen or so hives and put them on the farm. Besides being good for pollinating the garden, the bees were fascinating to watch. Del and I were learning a lot about the art of beekeeping, since our friend had been at it a long time.

The beekeeper always gave us some honey each time he robbed the hives. We enjoyed the sweet amber bonanza and everything was going great until he came out one day and discovered that I had put up a big purple martin house, where several pairs of birds were already in residence. The beekeeper was pretty upset at seeing those birds patrolling the sky. He said I'd better take down the martin houses because he was afraid they would catch and eat all his honeybees.

By then, I was already attached to the friendly martins, and they must have been attached to us too. They acted as if they belonged to the family; they never flew away when we walked near their house, but simply gave us a friendly chirp. I just couldn't see taking down the house where our friends were living. Besides, I couldn't believe that such a beautiful and beneficial creature would attack and each such a beautiful and beneficial insect.

I didn't remove the martin houses, but I did promise to pay the beekeeper for any hive that was lost. As time went by, the martins and bees seemed to be getting along well with each other. One morning on the way to the barn to milk the cow, however, I noticed a martin flying toward its house with swift and erratic maneuvers. It looked like something was chasing it, and it zoomed right into the house at full speed. I can't imagine how it stopped without slamming into the inside wall of the house.

On several occasions, I noticed this same flight pattern by the purple martins and was puzzled. One morning I was close enough to understand. The honeybees were escorting the martins home whenever they accidentally flew through the bees flight pattern.

Since that discovery, I always watched for the escort bees. Usually there would be three bees, one on each side of the martin about a foot away and one directly behind the bird at about the same distance. I never saw more than three bees, but occasionally there would be only two, one on each side. I'm sure the martins didn't enjoy the escort service, but it really was fun to watch. The bees flew at the same speed the martins did, and regardless of any evasive move the martins made, the bees kept up and always remained in perfect formation.

I knew from then on that I wouldn't be paying for any lost beehives, at least not because of anything the martins did. We have always had martin houses on our farm, and my children loved them. The birds always perched on their front porch and looked down at the children and chirped to them rather than flying away like other birds. One beautiful shiny male became our special friend. When we walked out into the barnyard, he would fly high in the air, then fold his wings like a diving hawk and dive directly at one of us at full speed until he was about six feet above our heads. Then he would spread his wings and flutter to a halt, with a lot of wild chirping sounds as he flew back up into the air. Most evenings, he was ready to put on his show. Usually he came from the direction of the setting sun and tried to sneak up and startle us.

My kids named this dive-bomber "Old Dover," and every spring they couldn't wait for him to come back home. He returned at about the same time each year for five or six years. We were all sad to be without him when he didn't return, and no other martin has learned to play like Old Dover did.

The purple martins are the friendliest of birds, and I think they are also the most masterful in the art of flying and gliding. Along with the industrious honey bees, they add a lot of beauty and fascination to Nature.

 

The Garden-Ville Method - Lessons in Nature