Marvelous Melipona

We all love bees, right? Well, perhaps not those of us allergic to bee stings. Individuals with that problem might do well to spend more time in the region known as the Mayab, since this swath of the American tropics is home to honeybees that do not sting, members of the genus Melipona.

These little pollinators have been cultivated by the Maya for thousands of years, their honey prized for its medicinal as well as culinary properties. Bees were so important in classical Maya culture that deities were associated with them, and if a bee were accidentally killed during honey extraction, it was carefully buried.

Melipona are cavity nesters, and Maya beekeepers kept logs with melipona colonies outside their homes. This bee palapa (or meliponaria) is in the Roger Orellana Botanical Garden in Merida, Yucatan.

Every so often, a shaman blesses the bees and makes (more or less) traditional offerings that include tobacco and tequila.

Unfortunately, these bees, like many of their cousins worldwide, are in trouble, experiencing population declines in their native range. Some of the decline is due to the commercial keeping of Apis mellifera, the European honeybee. Melipona do not store their honey in combs but in wax tubes, making harvesting an exacting process. They also produce much smaller amounts of honey than do European honeybees, which (I am told) are easier to work with

A likely greater contributor to the bees' troubles is habitat loss. The Yucatan peninsula is undergoing rapid development, with the population of Merida predicted to increase by a third over the next decade. This development has led to deforestation, with the scrub forest of much of the region giving way to high rises and modern roads. Concrete does not contain much nectar or pollen. This rapid and too-often-unplanned development is threatening more than bees: a decline in insect populations has led to a decline in bird populations, and loss of pollinators is endangering some plant species that depend on insect pollination.

Gardeners in the Yucatan (like those in the US) also tend toward a preference for showy flowers, but the plants adapted to the thin soils and dry conditions here often have inconspicuous flowers. I was probably in my forties before I realized that palms bloomed

and only in the last few years noticed the insect activity in those bloom clusters. In the Yucatan, something is blooming year-round, but the blooms do not always seem garden-worthy. Fortunately, there is a native-plant movement here as there is in the States, and gardeners can play a role in providing habitat for these important pollinators. Choosing locally-evolved plants for the garden and leaving wood for nesting sites can slow--or reverse?--the decline in Melipona populations.

After all, what's not to like about a creature that aids in flower reproduction, makes fabulous honey, and doesn't sting? And that face!

But a warning: these little gals may not sting, but they will bite if their nests are threatened. Yet another reason to let them be.

Es lo mismo

      "Es lo mismo." (In English, "It's the same.") I find myself saying that a lot these days as I learn about the work of CICY (the Centro de Investigación Cientifica de Yucatan) and the Roger Orellana Botanical Garden, where I will begin leading tours later this month. The garden, founded in 1983, lists environmental education and the promotion of native plants as part of its mission, and its horticulturalists have their work cut out for them.
      When most of us hear the term "botanical garden," we expect a floral wonderland. (I am guilty of making this assumption.) However, this part of the Yucatan Peninsula has two basic seasons--wet and dry. Not surprisingly, most plants prefer not to bloom during the dry season, which is well over half the year (and the time when most of the international visitors come, since the weather is cooler). The garden's public entrance is lovely even in January, but subdued by many people's standards. (As is typical of gardens everywhere, I am being told, "Oh, but you should see it when. . . ")

      The scientist-founders of the garden set aside the central portion of this former henequin plantation as an experiment in natural succession to see what remained in soil degraded by decades of intensive cultivation (though henequin, fortunately, is a tough member of the agave family that does not require chemical inputs to grow in Yucatan, so the soil at least has not been contaminated by agricultural chemicals). What has grown in the last few decades has been a native selva seca, or dry forest, an ecosystem type that once covered much of northern Yucatan. Even though the entire  botanical garden with its multiple collections covers less than six acres, 85 species of birds and 96 species of butterflies have been documented here.

      This Yucatecan version of what would be old-field succession in eastern Ohio has the same PR problem as the northern version: i.e. lack of appreciation. While the term "trash tree" has no Spanish or Maya equivalent, the director of collections lamented that most people here have no love for this lively and biodiverse forest type.  Deforestation over much of the peninsula has caused serious population declines in a depressing number of plant and animal species, a problem shared north of the border.
      As is typical in the US (and perhaps everywhere), exotic plants are more common in nurseries and home gardens than natives are. Of course, palms from Indonesia are more exciting than any of the twenty species of palms that grow wild in Yucatan, just as English roses and Asian hydrangeas are found in more US gardens than native beauties like buttonbush and Hydrangea arborescens. One way that CICY attempts to combat biodiversity loss is its annual plant sale. Clarisa Jimenez, the garden's assistant director, states that one of the program's goals is to have at least one native species in every yard in Merida, and to that end, prices are kept low.

Prices on these lovelies begin at the equivalent of US $2.50, with six-foot palms going for less than $10. As happens at our local plant sale, bargain-basement prices do result in good plants finding new homes.
      It turns out that people in Yucatan have other traits in common with people in our neck of the woods, not reading signs among them. A not-particularly-stable limestone cave on the property has had to be fenced off to keep visitors from exploring and possibly causing a collapse.

Signs next to the aquatic garden clearly state not to feed to turtles, fish, or birds. But people do, dropping bread into the water in quantities far greater than the critters (who should not eat bread anyway) can eat, with the result that most of the water lilies that used to cover the entire water garden died from the contamination.

      People. Evidently, the same everywhere.

Local Wildlife in Merida

Today has been el dìa de los insectos. Being aware of the likelihood of afternoon heat, I opted to close my windows before heading out for the day, a process that in this particular guesthouse involves lifting a portion of screen. Unfortunately, sometime yesterday a colony of wasps had, unbeknownst to me, chosen to build a nest on the window ledge and did not take kindly to the disturbance. Fortunately, I escaped with only one sting, and this variety of Yucatecan wasp is not particularly venomous--nothing compared to Ohio's yellow jackets. (The wasp colony is no longer present.)

Being thus reminded that I am currently in the tropics, I purchased a botanical insect repellent before returning home, ready for an interval of reading in the garden. Needless to say, the spray missed a spot or two, and the mosquitoes found exactly those spots. Fortunately, the same garden that is home to the mosquitoes (despite efforts to leave no standing water and the like) is also home to some lovely butterflies--not that they would hold still to be photographed.

Then this evening, I discovered that a nearly-microscopic species of ant had discovered a way into a just-purchased package of tostadas. Tomorrow will involve the purchase of plain tortillas to be stored in the refrigerator (a place not conducive to crisp baked goods) and a supply of ziplock bags. The contest with the little beasts will be won.

A stroll to the city's main plaza revealed some more exotic wildlife,

like this camel that formed part of the municipal Nativity scene.

Other creatures at the Bethlehem stable would be right at home on a Mexican farm.

And the ubiquitous European rock doves (aka pigeons) were making themselves right at home in the hay the plaster animals were not using,

totally ignoring the rampaging elephant a few feet way.

Would that all creatures would coexist so peacefully.