WHEN Hollywood filmmakers want to heighten the tension of an insect fear film, they just arrange for millions of killer bees to appear out of nowhere to threaten a vulnerable group of people — over the years, these have included children in a school bus, celebrants at a Mardi Gras parade and people living near a nuclear power plant.
But people from all demographic groups across the country are facing a much more frightening real-life situation: the disappearance of millions of bees. This winter, in more than 20 states, beekeepers have noticed that their honeybees have mysteriously vanished, leaving behind no clues as to their whereabouts. There are no tell-tale dead bodies either inside colonies or out in front of hives, where bees typically deposit corpses of dead nestmates.
What’s more, the afflicted colonies tend to be full of honey, pollen and larvae, as if all of the workers in the nest precipitously decamped on some prearranged signal. Beekeepers are up in arms — last month, leaders in the business met with research scientists and government officials in Florida to figure out why the bees are disappearing and how to stop the losses. Nobody had any answers.
That beekeepers are alarmed over this situation is understandable, but, just as in the movies, the public may not recognize the magnitude of the threat that these mysterious events present.
A decline in the numbers of Apis melllifera, the world’s most widely distributed semi-domesticated insect, doesn’t just mean a shortage of honey for toast and tea. In fact, the economic value of honey, wax and other bee products is trivial in comparison with the honeybee’s services as a pollinator. More than 90 crops in North America rely on honeybees to transport pollen from flower to flower, effecting fertilization and allowing production of fruit and seed. The amazing versatility of the species is worth an estimated $14 billion a year to the United States economy.Continue reading the main story
Approximately one-third of the typical American’s diet (primarily the healthiest part) is directly or indirectly the result of honey bee pollination. Production of almonds in California, a $2 billion enterprise, is almost entirely dependent on honey bees. Every year beekeepers transport millions of bees around the country to meet the ever-growing need for pollination services for almonds, apples, blueberries, peaches and other crops. This year it is possible that there won’t be enough bees to meet the demand for pollinators.
Theories abound as to potential causes of what is being called colony collapse disorder. As a social species living in close quarters at high densities — the average hive contains upwards of 30,000 insects — honeybees are prone to a staggering diversity of fungal, bacterial and viral diseases. In the 1980s, honeybee numbers plummeted when two species of parasitic mites appeared, wiping out most populations of wild bees and placing more pressure on managed colonies. This latest drop in numbers may be the consequence of a new infection, or of several diseases simultaneously, leading to a fatally compromised immune system.
It is also possible that severe stress brought on by crowding, inadequate nutrition or even the combined effects of prophylactic antibiotics and miticides sprayed by beekeepers to ward off infections may be a factor. Another, particularly sad, possibility is that accidental exposure to a new pesticide may cause non-lethal behavioral changes that interfere with the ability of honeybees to orient and navigate; brain-damaged foraging bees may simply get lost on their way home and starve to death away from the hive.
Irrespective of its causes, however, this drop comes at a critical time, with demand for pollination services rocketing upward. Even in a high-tech age when the human capacity to improve upon nature seems limitless, there is no satisfactory substitute for the honeybee. Thus it’s astonishing that beekeeping remains largely unimproved by technological advances relative to just about every other form of animal husbandry. The basic design of honey bee housing is essentially unchanged since L. L. Langstroth patented his movable frame hive in 1852; artificial insemination of queens, the last significant technological advance in beekeeping, was introduced early in the 20th century. The 21st century holds great promise for innovation.
Last October, an international consortium of scientists announced the publication of the sequence of the entire honey bee genome. Among the benefits of knowing the full gene inventory is that it has allowed the construction of a whole-genome microarray — essentially a microscope slide dotted with genetic material — here at the University of Illinois.
Microarray analysis is a powerful tool for examining differences among a very large number of genes rapidly and efficiently; it’s the basis for new diagnostic tools, for example, for clinical evaluation of many forms of cancer. For bees, microarray analysis of differences between healthy and afflicted bees may reveal the causes and provide insights for developing a cure.
The real key to dealing with colony collapse disorder, however, is understanding the extent of the problem, which may prove to be more of a challenge than figuring out its origins. Although Americans are in general good at counting things of value, we’ve done an absolutely appalling job at counting our bees and other pollinators.
In October, I served as chair of a committee for the National Research Council, the research arm of the National Academy of Sciences, on the status of pollinators in North America. Among the clearest conclusions of our report was that Americans do not keep track of pollinators, even the one on which much of our agriculture depends.
For example, the Department of Agriculture’s statistics service has kept records of honeybee colonies managed by beekeepers since 1947, but the annual survey monitors only colonies used in honey production. Colonies used exclusively for pollination are not included, nor do surveys take into account the fact that some honey-producing colonies travel. The Agriculture Department also doesn’t track bees kept by small-scale beekeepers with fewer than five colonies.
No current survey monitors colony health or variability in bee numbers over the season, a critical variable for assessing population dynamics as well as economic effects of fluctuations. Although the Agriculture Department surveys beekeeping operations every five years using criteria that address some of these issues, five years between surveys provides ample time for irreparable damage to occur before a problem can be recognized.
Conspicuous among the recommendations from the National Research Council committee was a call for the department to make annual bee assessments, with winter losses monitored, general health assessed and pollination services quantified.
Moreover, no system is in place to monitor feral bees — those that escape from managed colonies yet contribute critical pollination services to both wild plants and farms. We need long-term monitoring of feral honeybees along with other pollinators if we are to understand the true magnitude of pollination services essential for a healthy agricultural economy.
We count our pigs, our cows and our chickens (even before they hatch). The Agriculture Department, amid concerns about infectious disease and agro-terrorism, has even proposed establishing a national animal identification system, under which it could trace the origin of any animal in the food chain within 48 hours.
Yet honeybees, which contribute to our food chain in many more ways than any other animal species (and whose pollination makes available the alfalfa and clover processed into hay to feed beef and dairy cattle), are disappearing without a trace at a rate we can’t even measure accurately. Such obliviousness with respect to a precious resource in crisis might play well in a bad science fiction movie, but it’s truly alarming to see it in real life.Continue reading the main story