I’m Adopting a Carpenter Bee
I might as well because he’s made a home in my fence
When I went outside to feed my sister’s cat, I noticed a pile of sawdust on my porch. Moving aside the rug that has been on my fence for weeks because I don’t want to throw it away but my cats like to pee on it, I saw a hole in the wood — with a small butt hanging out. A carpenter bee was digging a tunnel.
I could hear it chewing.
I haven’t seen its face yet — apparently, that will tell me whether I should name it Mike or Annie. Males have a whitish spot on their face, according to the wisdom of the internet.
Although it was technically a little rude of Mike/Annie to eat a hole in my fence, the truth is, they’re awfully cute. And it’s one bee — carpenter bees don’t live in hives, so Mike/Annie won’t be inviting all the relatives to come create a bee commune in my fence. I will not be overrun with bees like I am wasps. My roof is home to a group of red paper wasps named Owen. I hate Owen.
Carpenter bees eat pollen, so I’m guessing they pollinate flowers and vegetables or whatever it is that bees pollinate. So Mike/Annie is important, and I must protect them. (Owen probably pollinates stuff, too, but he’s creepy as heck and wants desperately to get caught in my hair, so I won’t be protecting him or calling him cute. Owen was caught in a spider’s web this morning, and I didn’t even try to help him).
