It clearly states on every tub of Wilkinson’s
Timbercare that it is for use on roughly sawn wood, such as fences and sheds.
It is completely unsuitable for decking. Don’t put it on decking, ok?
Last year I used Ronseal “Does what it says on the
fu(king tin” decking stain. Yet it didn’t seem to say on the tin that it peeled
off and looked awful after less than a year. It turned out to be £60 wasted on
crap paint so you can’t blame me if I looked at the Wilkinson’s Timbercare and
thought that at £5 for a giant tub it was worth a go on the decking. I mean it
looked okay once I’d finished putting two coats of it on, I’m sure the warnings
were just for those obsessed in a perfect natural finish and I wasn’t one of
them people.
A day later it rained heavily and when I awoke to
look through my kitchen window I was greeted with a new red cedar coloured
swimming pool right in the middle of my decking. Ah right, you shouldn’t use it
on decking then. Turns out it isn’t waterproof on horizontal surfaces of planed
wood.
So, at the weekend you could find me coating my
decking for the third, fourth and fifth times in a week, this time with
Cuprinol Ultra-Tough Decking Stain, a substance that Amazon reviews I read
post-application stated was “utter shit”. It was during Coating 5 (Coat Hard
With A Vengeance) that I noticed that a bumblebee had made a nest in some
decomposing piles of lawn grass I’d taken out a few weeks later. This made me
very happy, I’m a big fan of bumblebees and the thought of a nest of them going
to and fro throughout the summer made painting the decking once again – and removing
fresh magpie shit – more tolerable than it had been.
A couple of hours later you could find me in the
shed rooting around for plant pots. As I reached up towards one bag of pots it
started to vibrate slightly as if someone had left a mobile phone in it. I
swung the bag around to discover that a bumblebee queen had become lodged in
one of the anti-suffocation holes in a Wilkinson’s carrier bag (first the
Timbercare, now this!), its head and part of the thorax had managed to get
through the hole but the abdomen and wings remained firmly stuck. It appeared
that a Tree Bumblebee had hibernated – or sought to establish a nest – in this
carrier bag and was now stuck. A queen bumblebee emerging from hibernation is
very low on stores of energy so needs to eat quickly and substantially after
awakening so this appeared to be a matter of some urgency. The poor thing
struggled, its legs sliding uselessly off the plastic, efforts to extricate itself
becoming increasingly pathetic through exhaustion.
What do I do? How do I remove a panicking bee from a
tiny hole in a carrier bag without hurting the thing?
I watched it for a while – a time that seemed like
hours – in the hope it’d eventually widen the hole enough to escape. But with
each passing minute it became weaker. I went inside to get some scissors,
believing I was somehow dextrous enough to cut round a flailing bumblebee.
Again, I stood watching, scissors in my hand as more time was wasted.
Confession time: I’m soft hearted; an overly
sentimental, overly emotional disgrace to the stoic and tough Allans that went
before me. Therefore, I found myself getting stupidly upset from a mixture of
hopelessness and frustration. Do something! Anything!
So I just grabbed the bottom of the bag, trying to
be as gentle as I could, and opened up the hole with my fingers, all the while
with a vibrating bee making it as difficult as possible. Eventually,
miraculously, the bee flopped out, landing heavily on the garage floor. I bent
over it, things didn’t look good, and it remained on its back, moving slowly.
But, it eventually started to right itself and after
a few aborted take-offs made it as far as flying to my car just outside the
garage. I followed, started offering words of encouragement (I hope the nosey
old guy who lives opposite was watching at this moment) and she eventually got
enough energy to fly off, wobbly at first but then straight. I hope she found
the food she needed, Plungington isn’t exactly a nectar rich haven in the
spring. Yet, Godspeed Queen of the Bees! Godspeed!
Why have I typed this up? Why does this merit a
blog?
Well, partly because I got a splendid buzz (whoa, ho
ho, ha ha) from the hopefully happy resolution but also because of this:A Sting In The Tale by Dave Goulson
It’s where I got most of the above knowledge about
bee nesting and hibernation, and also where I later identified the species of
the bee I was helping. I’ve always been interested in bees, they’re
fascinating, beautiful creatures but this magical book about the bumblebee
really opened my eyes. So much so that as soon as I finished it I joined The Bumblebee Conservation Trust and
have started bombarding relatives/friends with information both about the book
and the trust. Several birthday/Christmas presents have been sorted early.
Lots has been written about the decline of the
bumblebee’s narky cousin the honey bee – the causes of hive deaths, subsequent
problems of crop pollination and the resulting cost to the economy and
environment. Yet the bumblebee is also an important pollinator, its hefty
weight and varied tongue length allowing it access to pollinate certain species
that other bees struggle with. Indeed it’s also crafty enough to bite through
the side of a flower if it discovers it can’t fit in the normal way.
The bumblebee has, like the honey bee, suffered
similar catastrophic declines in numbers throughout the UK as its food sources
– wild flower meadows mainly – have almost vanished from large swathes of the country,
mainly because of intensive farming and of course the neglectful ‘money is
king’ policies of lawmakers. And house owners haven’t helped, front gardens
tarmacked over for car storage, back gardens covered in decking and a patio.
Once common species have been lost from these shores and all are at lower
numbers than they once were.
You may not care about this: you may not overly give
a shit where your food comes from or particularly feel you eat many of these
pollywhatinated crops; you may not care for the beauty of a garden/field filled
with bees of all species going from one group of flowers to another; you may
just be a cunt.
But if you’re none of the above, if you’re a person
who enjoys the beauty of nature, who realises its importance not just for the
benefit of human life but that the protection and continuation of every single
species of plant/animal on this planet is our responsibility then you can all
do something to help.
If you have a garden then fill it with flowers that
provide food for bees and other insects. Shun the bedding plants, those that
have been selectively bred for colour, length of flowering season or hardiness,
yet which have become so genetically and physically mangled that they either don’t
supply nectar/pollen anymore or else it is impossible for an insect to access
it. Most plants are now labelled with a badge saying if they are beneficial to
pollinators, choose these over the sterile alternative.
If your garden is concreted over reclaim it for
nature. Fill it with pots containing plants to attract bees. And if you have
neither front or back garden then a spot for a pot or window box can probably
be found somewhere. Tell your children, educate them about what we’re in danger
of losing, change the thinking of governments that put the interests of pesticide companies ahead of the best interests of theplanet, of the economy and humanity. We’re the only ones who can stop them.
It is the duty of us all to look after the planet we
live on, to guard it for those that follow. The bee is a symbol for what
happens when we don’t take enough care of the planet and about how it can
affect us all. Let the fields and gardens of this country be once again filled
with the gentle hum of the bee.
The future prospects of the bee are in our hands,
although in my own future, hopefully not when they get stuck in a carrier bag.
