Nature’s landscape artists

Claude Monet once said, “I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.” Perhaps he should have given bees equal credit for his occupation. Without them, the dialectical coevolutionary dance with flowers that has lasted 125 million years would not have produced the colorful landscapes he so cherished. For Darwin, it was an abominable mystery; for Monet, an endless inspiration.

Bees, like Monet, paint the landscape. Their tool kit, however, is not one of canvas, paint pigments, and brushes, but consists of special body parts and behavior. Their bodies, covered with branched hairs, trap pollen when they rub against floral anthers and transfer it to the stigma—pollination. Their visual spectrum is tuned to the color spectrum of flowers, not an adaptation of the bees to flowers but an adaptation of flowers to attract the pollinators. Insects evolved their color sensitivities long before flowering plants exploited them.

The behavioral toolkit of honey bees is expansive. Bees learn the diurnal nectar delivery rhythms of the flowers; they also learn their colors, shapes, odors, and where they are located. Honey bees are central-place foragers, meaning they have a stationary nest from which they explore their surroundings. They can travel more than 300 km² in search of rewarding patches of flowers. To do this, they have a navigational tool kit. First, they need to know how far they have flown: an odometer. This they accomplish by measuring the optical flow that traverses the nearly 14,000 individual facets that make up their compound eyes, similar to us driving through a city and noting how much city flows by in our periphery. They calculate how far they have flown and the angle of their trajectory relative to the sun, requiring a knowledge of the sun’s location and a compass. Then they integrate the individual paths they took and determine a straight-line direction and distance from the nest. Equipped with this information, they return to the nest and tell their sisters the location of the bonanza they discovered.

Communication among honey bees is not done with airborne sounds, as they have no organs for detecting them. Information is conveyed through a dance performed by returning foragers on the vertical surface of a comb in a dark nest. New recruits gather on the comb dance floor, attend the dances, and learn the direction and distance to the patch of flowers. How they perceive the information in the dance is not known, but to us as observers, we can decipher the direction by the orientation of the dance, and the distance by timing one part of it. Because the dance is done on a vertical comb inside a dark cavity, perhaps a hollow tree or a box hive provided by a beekeeper, the forager has two challenges. First, she must perform a bit of analytical geometry and translate the angle of the food source relative to the location of the sun from a horizontal to a vertical plane, then she must represent the direction of the sun at the top of comb. This is a constant like north at the top of our topographical maps.

Equipped with this information, recruits fly out of the nest in the direction of the resource for the distance indicated by the dance and seek the flowers. The flowers lure them in with attractive colors, shapes, odors, and sweet nectar that the bees imbibe and in the process transfer pollen onto the stigma, fertilizing the ova. The seeds develop, drop to the ground and wait until the following spring when the plants emerge and paint the fresh landscape with a kaleidoscope of colors that rivals Claude Monet.

_{Featured image by JLGutierrez on iStock.}