The Tragedy of the Bees
An interesting incident, apropos of our embarrassed bee, was narrated to me by the late Alphonso Wood, the noted botanist. He had received by mail from California a small box containing a hundred or more dead bees, accompanied by a letter. The writer, an old bee-keeper, had experience, and desired enlightenment and advice. The letter stated that his bees were "dying by thousands from the attacks of a peculiar fungus." The ground around the hive was littered with the victims in all stages of helplessness, and the dead insects were found everywhere at greater distances scattered around his premises. It needed only a casual glance at the encumbered insects to see the nature of the malady. They were laden two or three pairs deep, as it were, with the pollen masses of a milkweed. The botanist wrote immediately to his anxious correspondent, informing him, and suggesting as a remedy the discovery and destruction of the mischievous plants, which must be thriving somewhere in his neighborhood. A subsequent letter conveyed the thanks of the bee-keeper, stating that the milkweeds—a whole field of them—had been found and destroyed, and the trouble had immediately ceased. I am not aware that Mr. Wood ever ascertained the particular species of milkweed in this case. It is not probable that our Eastern species need ever seriously threaten the apiary, though unquestionably large numbers of bees are annually destroyed by its excessive hospitality. I have repeatedly found honey-bees dead beneath the plants, and my cabinet shows a specimen of a large bumblebee which had succumbed to its pollen burden, its feet, and even the hairs upon its body, being fringed deep with the tiny clubs—one of the many specimens which I have discovered as the "grist in the mill" of that wise spider which usually spreads his catch-all beneath the milkweeds.
Allied to the milkweed is another plant, the dogbane (Apocynum), which has a similar trick of entrapping its insect friends. Its drooping, fragrant, bell-shaped white flowers and long slender pods will help to recall it. But its method of capture is somewhat similar to the milkweed. The anthers are divided by a V-shaped cavity, into which the insect's tongue is guided as it is withdrawn from the flower, and into which it often becomes so tightly wedged as to render escape impossible. I have found small moths dangling by the tongue, as seen in the illustration below.
A Moth Caught by the Tongue in Dogbane
