…a blog by Kernow Wyls ~ People for Pollinators Conservation Assistant, Dr Will Hawkes.

Right then, here we are. Cornwall in Midsummer. Is there any better place to be? We’re grouped by the edge of the National Trust grass covered carpark, rutted and divoted, at Polly Joke Bay and we’re going bee hunting.

The air has heat in it. Fritillaries float past like great orange handkerchiefs, Marmalade Hoverflies (Episyrphus balteatus) defend sunbeams, Skylarks shout about how great they are in the blue sky. There are scabious flowers in the bank, tall and pink-purple and one seems to be guarded by a tiny golden lion. I swing my net, reach in, pluck out and gently hold the now rather indignant lion-bee. He’s a male of the species Dasypoda hirtipes, the Pantaloon Bee, and he’s covered in thick golden yellow hairs. I must admit he’s one of my most favourite species, but his name doesn’t quite fit him, where are his pantaloons?

We’ll continue down the path to the beach now, but mind where you tread. Lining the footpath are tens, if not hundreds, of small holes in the dunes. Each accompanied by a little mountain of dug-out sand. If our eyes are sharp, and our luck is in, perhaps you’ll spot the digger. A female Pantaloon Bee. She’s a medium to large sized bee. Dark, mostly, with golden brown hairs on her thorax and tight white bands across her abdomen, quite different to the male. Her hind legs, however, are remarkable. No other British bee has hind legs like hers; they are thick with golden yellow hairs giving her the appearance of wearing yellow pantaloons, hence her name.

However, perhaps she didn’t always look like this. Settle down now on the dunes, let me tell you a story.

Pantaloon Bee (*Dasypoda hirtipes*) © Dr Will Hawkes

Long ago before humans walked on the Cornish land, there lived a small bee.

Her coat was dust brown and her legs as thin and as hairless as marram grass stems. She worked hard collecting pollen from the dune wildflowers and carrying it back to her nest, grain by grain.

It was slow work and her babies grew thin, but she could not carry more.

And the nest holes she dug in the sand were shallow, sorry affairs, her thin little legs could not dig deep.

And the wind blew the sand and buried her hard work.

One midsummer’s eve, as the sun dipped low over the world and painted the sky in gold and fire, the small bee’s need to finish her nest for her babies made her bold.

She flew west out over the sea until she reached the sun. But she was shy, and the Sun did not hear her tiny voice. She called louder and louder, begging for help as the great Sun sank slowly below the sea.

Just before he disappeared, she shouted her very loudest of all “Oh Sun, give me strength that I and my children might burrow deep into the shifting sands and carry the pollen of the wildflowers to the wild places.”

At the very last moment, the Sun caught sight of the tiny bee and smiled, ‘what a brave little bee,’ he thought and sent out the last golden ray of midsummer’s eve up and over the horizon like a golden thread, spinning through the dusk, knitting the last drop of light into a tiny pair of yellow, golden pantaloons.

The little bee slipped on the tiny pantaloons and felt the warmth and strength of the Sun spread through her body. Her legs became bristly, strong and bright.

The finest little bee in Cornwall flew home with her new trousers knitted from the last ray of the mid-summer eve sun, and do you know what?

She could dig deeper than ever before, shaping chambers for her young that the wind could not tear away. And she could now collect enough pollen that stuck to her strong, bristly little legs for her young to thrive with enough spare to pollinate all the dune flowers.

And wherever the little Pantaloon Bee went, the dunes blossomed, growing rich with life.

She and her children are still there, little rays of midsummer sunshine on the dunes.

If you visit the special sites around Cornwall from midsummer, Polly Joke Bay is one, Penhale Dunes another, you may just catch a glimpse of her. Her legs, heavy with pollen, are perfect shovels for digging into the soft Cornish sand.

This bee is a rare creature in Britain, and you have to be quite lucky (and in the right place at the right time) to see her. However, the Buglife Kernow Wyls project is restoring the wildflower habitat that she, and a myriad other pollinators, need to survive and thrive. You can find out more about this project and get involved here: buglife.org.uk/projects/kernow-wyls-people-for-pollinators/

Join us & celebrate the wonderful world of solitary bees!

90% of bee species are solitary bees and along with other pollinating animals their hard work is responsible for at least one in every three mouthfuls we eat. However, like many species, they are under threat and need our help.

We invite you to Earn Your Stripes by pledging to help the bees, Wear Your Stripes for a day, or the entire week, and Share Your Stripes by helping us to raise awareness and share your activities, solitary bee facts and photos across your socials this Solitary Bee Week