This Side of the Pond

Never let it be said that my nation fails to give our all when we take on a project. You might even say that we get a bit carried away.

Such is the case with the humble honeybee.

To be clear, the bees haven’t done anything wrong, unless you count the fact that they keep keeling over.

It’s not ideal, but you can hardly blame them.

It’s the reaction of the Brits to this news that can be problematic – not because we don’t care, but because we arguably care too much.

Since the news came out that pesticides and global warming are messing with our bumblebee collection, the good folks of my homeland have taken it upon themselves to sort things out.

All species of bee in the UK are under threat, but 35 of them are nearly extinct and we’ve already lost 13. (That’s 13 species, for the sake of clarity, not 13 bees.)

This is considered a problem, for obvious reasons, because bees are useful critters who like to leave flowers and trees and other leafy stuff behind them wherever they go.

Einstein is often quoted as saying that, without the bees, mankind would go extinct within four years. It turns out that he never said any such thing, but the point remains that removing a valuable part of the food chain is always going to end in a heap of trouble.

Specifically, fruits, nuts and other crops that rely on pollinators to reproduce would be quick to complain about the lack of service and there’d be a serious shortage of honey – and that means no berry parfaits.

This troubles the Brits.

I noticed during my last sojourn to the motherland that the bees were absolutely everywhere. Well, not the bees themselves, because we’re running out, but projects to increase their numbers.

From wildflower patches along the sides of every road to packets of seeds for your garden to products donating a portion of their proceeds, I couldn’t swing a cat for mention of a bee.

Ideas are springing up everywhere. In Essex, a three-year restoration project called Bee Connected (see what they did there?) is restoring natural habitat for the bumbles, while Bee Inspired (see what they also did there?) is increasing “urban habitat” in the town of Walsall.

Bee the Change (there’s definitely a pattern forming) is helping people across the UK take “micro-actions” for their winged friends, such as letting the grass grow or choosing bee-friendly plants. Buzzing in the East End (breaking the trend a little here, though props for managing to achieve the acronym B.E.E.) is scouring London for the four rare bumblebees thought to live there.

Then there’s the BeeWalk, a “standardized bumblebee-monitoring scheme” across the nation, because if there’s a way to make something more fun, it’s definitely to confine it to a bureaucratic structure. Since 2008, members of the public have been walking the same path once a month to record the species they see – they’ve counted 208,000 bees so far, which is a lot for a country that claims not to have many.

The University of Manchester, recognizing that the city’s bee emblem (representing its history as a “hive of industry”) would just be depressing if we let the real thing go extinct, now maintains beehives in the middle of campus. We even have a Bumblebee Conservation Trust, which has the sole mission of bringing the bees back to Britain.

I have also seen bee-themed post box toppers. This will require some explaining, so bear with me.

It’s a tradition to knot or crochet a “hat” for the iconic red mail boxes you see across the UK, usually to coincide with big events like a Royal Jubilee or Easter. They sit snugly over the top of the post box, sporting everything from knitted crowns to crocheted poppies and owls.

In my own neck of the woods, I have witnessed knitted bees. I am unclear as to how this actually assists the honeybees, but they look cool so I’m not going to complain.

I could go on for quite some time. But while I joke about the enthusiasm with which my countrymen are tackling the issue, I actually find it quite wonderful. Instead of bellyaching about the existence of problem, everyone is getting off their backsides to contribute to a solution.

On the other hand, sometimes they take things a little far – and that’s exactly why I’m writing this column. I happened across what I believe to be the world’s worst well-meaning idea.

In the town of Fishergate in Lancashire, near the stores and a doctor’s surgery, is a bus shelter. It’s right in the middle of town, so it gets plenty of use from shoppers, commuters and locals.

It’s a typical bus stop exactly like the one you’re imagining, with a pole to designate its status, shelter for rainy days and a bench for the weary.

Except it’s not.

This bus shelter has a bee-friendly roof. Instead of metal, it’s covered by a raised bed of wildflowers.

Unclear at this time whether the bees are also expected to get on the bus.

Now, this bus shelter is not next to a park or woodland – there’s a car showroom directly opposite, for a start. This is not your average place for a bee to be taking a wander – at least, it wasn’t until the council sent them an invite.

As you might imagine, the public reaction has not been positive. Alongside the commuters who have been calling for it to “buzz off”, there are sensible folk pointing out that some people are allergic to bee stings, and that those people still have a right to be able to get to the supermarket.

I have mental images of well-dressed office workers running in circles around the shelter, pursued by a hoard of yellow stripes. Bees might be reluctant to sting people, but how many of those bus passengers are prepared to wait around to check whether the creature with an interest in their ice cream cone is a friendly bumbler or a hornet?

I think it’s safe to say that the only bee number this will increase is the flattened ones.

I’m thinking of suggesting someone set up a watchdog to vet all these projects before they go ahead, just to be sure they’re a good idea. They could call it Don’t Bee Ridiculous.