Original subtitles

Honeybees.

We know them to be hardworking and intelligent,

industriously turning nectar into honey.

But until we started to exploit them for our own purpose, honeybees were just one

of the many different kinds of bees in our countryside.

There are in fact nearly 2,000 species of wild bee in Europe, 20,000 worldwide.

Most of them go about their daily business unnoticed, flitting from flower to flower,

feeding on nectar and pollen.

They can see colours and detect smells that we can't sense.

But have these humble bees other hidden talents that we've overlooked?

And what's the secret of their success?

A bank of tousled grass and some bare earth.

It's a perfect habitat for wild bees.

The ground is still hard from the winter

frost, but will soon warm up in the spring sun.

The coltsfoot flower is one of the first to bloom, bringing a welcome splash of

colour and an early offering of food for bees.

Solitary bees emerge from their burrows.

They've spent the winter asleep and now need to refuel their bodies.

They're soon covered in pollen.

It's an age-old exchange.

The bee carries the pollen from flower to flower,

and in return is rewarded with sweet nectar.

The pollen literally jumps from flower to bee.

And it's all down to static electricity, which the bees pick up in flight.

Many solitary bees build their nest underground.

The female excavates a hole in the soil into which she'll lay her egg.

She also exudes a strong perfume that is irresistible to males.

The buzzing noise soon attracts others.

And within minutes, a frenzy of males has descended on her.

Not all solitary bees nest in the ground.

And many will happily move into man-made accommodation.

A wooden box filled with twigs and logs is all that's needed to make a bee hotel.

The rooms are simply holes drilled into blocks of wood.

Erected in early spring and facing southwards,

it won't be long before the first guests move in.

The hollow stems are a favourite with mason bees.

They patrol the nest holes, waiting for potential mates.

While the mason bees are otherwise occupied, an imposter, a cuckoo wasp,

tries to sneak its egg into an unattended nest.

Not far from the bee hotel, another, more dangerous intruder, is about to emerge.

A black oil beetle.

It's bad news for bees, and it has a voracious appetite.

As the sun warms up the nest, the bees begin to eat.

But as the sun goes up the grassy slopes, other spring flowers awaken.

Unfurling their large, colourful blooms, their aim

is to attract the attention of insect pollinators.

The black oil beetle is also drawn to the bright and sweet-smelling blossoms.

A female beetle can lay over a thousand eggs at a time.

But to do so, she has to devour vast quantities of food.

She heads straight for the most nutritious parts of the flower.

The catkins of the pussy willow attract more visitors than any other.

Each tree has either male or female flowers, so they depend on bees and

butterflies to carry the pollen between them.

But not all pollen makes it to the intended destination.

Mining bees carry some back to their underground nests to ensure their larvae

have an instant meal when they hatch.

Meanwhile, the female oil beetle has picked up a passenger.

The smaller male will hang on to her back until he gets the chance to mate.

The mining bee has little idea of the danger her larvae could be in.

And there are other threats to the mining bee's offspring.

She has returned to her nest to find an intruder at the door.

A wasp-like cuckoo bee is trying to break in.

Another one has been caught in the act.

Cuckoo bees don't build nests of their own.

But like their namesake, try to sneak their eggs into those of others.

They're waiting for an unguarded moment when they can slip inside.

Many of these parasites only target one kind of bee.

This red blood bee is homing in on the nest of a plasterer bee.

But she doesn't know that the female is inside.

The imposter quietly enters the tunnel.

And comes face to face with the owner.

A short standoff and then, buzzing her discontent,

the larger plasterer bee sees off the intruder.

Early morning frost still cloaks the ground.

But each day heralds the arrival of more spring flowers.

The common lungwort pushes its way through the leaf litter.

Offering up its flowers in two different colours.

The buds open in pink, but turn blue with age.

This change in colour is a signal to pollinators.

The pink indicates there is plenty of pollen and nectar.

So bees don't waste energy visiting old blooms.

And the flowers have a better chance of being pollinated.

Bumblebees are among the most active in early spring.

Their thick furry coat providing good insulation.

Only the queens have survived the winter.

And now have to start a new colony.

She searches the ground for a sheltered spot.

An old mouse tunnel could be just right.

But the owner has not yet moved out.

She tries to persuade the sleepy animal to make way.

Unfazed by the size of her opponent, she intensifies her attack.

And pulls out her most impressive weapon.

The mouse has had enough.

The mosaic structure of our landscape provides

homes to many different kinds of bees.

Flooded meadows are rich in flowers.

With large and colourful blooms.

The snakeshead fritillary is one of the most bold and striking.

But has become a rare sight in the wild.

The red mason bee is dwarfed by the huge flower heads.

But a single one will provide it with ample nectar for the day.

Each petal has its own gland that produces a sugary liquid.

The bee hotel is now surrounded by colourful

blossoms, providing plenty of food for its residents.

The old orchard trees have catered to

generations of bees and depend on their services.

The open shape of the flowers makes them easily accessible.

The trees also attract other kinds of creatures.

A wryneck.

The apple tree has to receive pollen from another tree if it's to bear any fruit.

Each flower that is fertilised will produce an apple.

And as most gardeners know, the more bees, the greater will be the harvest of fruit.

And there is plenty of pollen left for the bees to

take some down into the nest to provision their young.

But it's not just our fruit trees that bees pollinate.

One third of all plants we eat depend on bees.

And it's a coexistence that's crucial to our own survival.

A minaret of mud.

It's the entrance to a sweat bee's nest.

The long and narrow tunnel entrance safeguards from intruders.

But not from all.

A large bee fly powders the tip of her abdomen

with fine sand to camouflage her secret weapon.

The furry fly is easily mistaken for a bee.

And maybe this allows her to make her approach unnoticed.

She's looking for the burrows of ground-nesting bees.

Once located, she releases her missile.

She catapults her egg with fine precision into the entrance of the nest.

If successful, her young will hatch inside and kill the owner's young.

The towers of soil constructed by the sweat bees are cemented together with saliva.

The industrious bees are not put off by the impending rain.

They continue to excavate and build.

The downpour does little damage to the earthen mounds.

The bee saliva is waterproof and the nest below ground will stay dry.

These sweat bees live in colonies of hundreds of

individuals and work together to raise the next generation.

The grub-like larvae each have their own little chamber and

will remain in their nursery until they hatch into adults.

In charge of the colony is a queen that looks little different from the workers.

But unlike them, she will live to be six years old, a formidable age for a bee.

Both workers and queen help to excavate the brood cells

and provision them with pollen and nectar for the young.

The bees will remain underground for almost a year.

Reappearing at the surface the following spring.

How they are able to do so remains a mystery.

The grazing sheep pose little danger to the sweat bees.

In fact, they keep the grass short and allow the sun to warm the ground,

which the bees need for nesting.

Far below the surface, they are safe from the trampling hooves.

But without grazing by livestock, many wild bees would not survive.

Tiny yellow worm-like creatures now emerge

from the ground and race upwards in a hurry.

They are the larvae of the black oil beetle, and they

are on a mission to hitch a ride on a passing bee.

They head up to the highest point, the flower

heads, and lie in wait for their quarry.

With special hooked feet, the larvae latch onto the bee.

And they're airborne.

With a bit of luck, they've even picked the right kind of bee.

The female heads into her underground tunnel.

At the far end is what the stowaways are after, and they disembark.

A ball of pollen and nectar, topped with a single bee egg.

But it's only enough for one larva.

After devouring the lot, it will turn into a pupa,

and emerge as an adult beetle in the following spring.

To protect against such deadly parasites, many

bees seal off their nest once the egg's been laid.

The European orchard bee has collected a parcel of mud to plug the entrance hole.

Inside, the bee's larva munches away on the nutritious pollen paste.

It will do so until the entire store is consumed.

Each cell is packed tight with food, and contains just a single bee larva.

Inside their chambers, the small grubs are safe from

predators, and continue to grow for around 60 days.

While the growing larvae are snug and safe in their

nurseries, the adult bees face a more precarious future.

A

White crab spider sits almost invisible on a white flower.

It waits patiently.

A large bumblebee may be too much of a mouthful.

The smaller, mining bee is more like it.

Neck and foot is all it needs.

She injects her victim with a venom.

And once immobilized, sucks out its inner juices.

It's a murderous end in the driveway of The Bee Hotel.

Wild bees are resourceful when finding accommodation.

In the middle of the night, the bees are in the same situation.

Small holes in fallen trees are perfectly suitable.

But it's not the bees themselves that excavate these cavities.

They are made by larvae of wood-boring insects.

This longhorn beetle has spent the last two years as a larva inside the oak tree,

feeding on its dead wood.

It emerges as an adult, and leaves behind a hole nearly seven centimetres deep.

The vacant home is immediately spotted.

The longhorn also wastes no time.

It's already found a mate.

The house viewings continue.

Each prospective owner wants to find the perfect fit.

But not all bees favour wooden homes.

Some prefer more unusual constructions.

And to find these requires a little ingenuity.

An empty snail shell.

But first, it has to be manoeuvred into position.

It's no easy task for a small bee like the red-tailed mason.

And there's no point in persisting when the fuel gauge is low.

Best to first replenish the energy reserves.

She now flies to and fro, depositing pollen into the belly of the nest.

And then, the hardest part of the procedure.

Small stones, many times the bees' own weight, have

to be placed at the entrance to keep out intruders.

Finally, it's time to render the exterior.

Small sticks and grasses are carried back, one at a time.

She covers the nest with a thatch of dead grass to hide

it from predators and protect it from the elements.

It will take three to four days, and over a hundred trips until she is satisfied.

And some remarkable aerobatic manoeuvres.

This oak tree's leaves are riddled with holes like a Swiss cheese.

They are made by a leaf-cutter bee, which cuts out little discs and carries them off.

They are made by a bee-cutter bee, which cuts out little discs and carries them off.

She is heading for the bee hotel.

It's a very beautiful, beautiful thing.

Inside the wooden tunnel, she lines her nest with leaves.

Then she glues them together with saliva to build individual nursery chambers.

Each cell is separated from the next by more leaves.

And as usual, the larvae have an ample supply of pollen by their side.

Next spring, the newly emerged adults will chew their way out of the nest.

There are other wild bees that lie near nests with carpets of vegetation.

Some use petals of flowers to wallpaper the interior.

The larvae are unlikely to appreciate the colourful decor.

But it provides stability to the nest and may help to keep it moist and clean.

Some bees are so specialised, they will only

use the petals or pollen of certain plants.

The yellow flowers of the golden flax are particularly sought after by mason bees.

The female selects a suitable petal and slices off a piece with her sharp jaws.

Then deftly gathering it up in a bunch, she carries it back to her nest.

These red poppies also carry the sign of a bee invasion.

Another flower and another kind of bee.

No one knows why some like yellow and others prefer red.

But this specialisation has one big drawback.

If a flower becomes rare or disappears from our countryside, the bee is also at risk.

Red poppies were once common in our fields and meadows.

But with modern farming techniques, they've all but disappeared.

And for this mason bee, that could spell trouble.

Many of our wild bees depend on agricultural

farmland for food and nest sites.

But changes in traditional practices have greatly

reduced wild flowers within this landscape.

And many bees are struggling to survive.

But one bee's fate has changed more dramatically than any other.

The humble honey bee is the most widespread bee in the world today.

And it's all down to our love of honey.

The larger males, or drones, appear in early summer.

Their only job is to fertilise the queen.

The drones live just a few short weeks.

By the end of summer, they are evicted from the colony.

Weak with hunger and lacking a sting, they make easy prey for small hunters.

Man-made structures can also provide a home for wildlife, including bees.

An old barn like this has many hidden nooks and

crannies, perfect for nesting solitary bees.

And a flowering horse-chestnut tree provides ample pollen for the bees.

And nectar.

The flowers signal like a traffic light.

Yellow to announce sweet nectar, while pink or red suggests don't bother,

we're already pollinated.

It's an ingenious system that benefits both tree and bee.

An old farmhouse with plenty of flowers is the perfect habitat for wild bees.

The purple blooms of the catmint are a particular favourite.

And not just with bees.

The catmint, or catnip, is native to Europe,

and so named because of its appeal to cats.

The flower of the oriental poppy has a generous supply of nutrient-rich pollen.

But it's locked away in the anthers.

The bumblebee has a trick up her sleeve.

She grasps the anthers with her legs and buzzes, vibrating her flight muscles.

This shakes the pollen out onto her belly.

Later, she will comb the grains into special baskets on her hind legs,

and transport them back to her nest.

Most bees feed mainly on nectar, and very little on pollen.

But bumblebees are an exception.

An old wooden fence has not gone unnoticed.

A wool carder bee has moved in.

And just behind the farm, a meadow filled with purple flowers of the hedge nettle.

A favourite with the bees.

The thick, sharp spines on the male's rear end are an indication of his fierce nature.

His aggression is not directed at humans, but at rivals.

A hummingbird hawkmoth is also attracted to the flowers.

But it may be one size too big for the wool carder to handle.

So the hawkmoth feeds undisturbed.

Not so when this honeybee tries to do the same.

The wool carder is one of the largest wild bees.

And the males are fiercely territorial.

But

now, a female has attracted his attention.

And mistakes his amorous advance for an attack.

But this is an intruder.

A quick stop to refuel.

And he's off again to defend what's his.

He launches a direct strike at his rivals, trying to dislodge them.

His hard work seems to have paid off.

He's earned his reward from this female.

Some bees go to even greater lengths for their favourite plants.

The hairy-legged mining bee feeds exclusively on one plant.

The common chicory.

But its blue flowers only bloom in the mornings.

So the bee has to hurry.

She has just four hours to collect all the pollen and nectar she needs.

To do so, she is equipped with extra-large hairbrushes on her hind legs.

With these, she can collect greater quantities of pollen at a time.

A prospective suitor makes an advance.

But has little success.

She's not interested and has other things on her mind.

At midday, she returns heavily laden to the nest one last time.

With food supplies shut down now, she'll have the rest of the afternoon off.

And can take care of the interior decoration.

As the evening draws in, the female bees settle

down in their underground nests for the night.

Only the males remain outside.

Like all insects, they're cold-blooded and become torpid when the temperature drops.

Some latch on to grass stems with their jaws and

remain suspended like this for the rest of the night.

Others huddle together for warmth.

It's dawn, but the air is still cold.

The bees remain motionless on their stalks.

The early morning sun burns off the last of the lingering fog.

Unlike honeybees, which stay warm within their

hives, wild bees are children of the sun.

They need its warmth to breathe life back into their little bodies.

After a little stretch and morning toilet, they're

off to fuel up on their first sugary drink of the day.

The long-horned bees head straight for the tall spikes of the tufted vetch.

It's a member of the pea family.

And its cascade of violet flowers offer an abundant supply of nectar.

Other plants nearby also vie for the attention of pollinators.

A bee orchid unfurls its enticing bloom.

It seems irresistible.

But the bee has detected the deception.

A wasp also quickly abandons the rogue flower.

Bee orchids are mimics whose flowers closely resemble the furry bodies of bees.

This one also produces a sex pheromone

similar to that of a female long-horned bee.

And the trickery seems to work.

A male long-horn has been bamboozled to mate with the deceitful flower.

As he nuzzles up to her, his head pushes against the anthers and picks up the

packets of pollen that stick to him like yellow horns.

He has been duped without any reward at all.

By late summer, most bees have finished breeding and

many have fallen prey to hunters like the bee-eaters.

But some plants flower late in the season.

And they also need to be pollinated.

So there are bees which emerge and start their breeding cycle later than most.

An exposed bank of soil is ideal.

It is ideal for ground-nesting bees.

And Southern Europe's vineyards are dry and warm even in late summer.

The ivy plant is a late bloomer and only comes into flower in September.

But there is a bee that has timed its entire life cycle around this event.

The ivy bee is completely dependent on the nectar and pollen of the ivy.

It's a time of year when there is little other food

around and the unassuming flowers are very rich in nectar.

The relationship between ivy and bee has evolved over millions of years.

Neither can survive without the other.

But even now, there are enemies around.

The bee-wolf is a digger wasp that specializes in killing bees.

But the hunter has enemies of its own to contend with.

A cuckoo wasp is on the lookout for an unattended nest.

The brazen intruder is quickly seen off.

The bee-wolf returns with a kill.

She's immobilized her victim with a venomous sting.

Once underground, she will embalm the paralyzed bee with an antifungal secretion

so it stays fresh longer.

One bee will be enough food for a wasp larva until it emerges as an adult.

The bee-wolf will be enough food for a wasp larva until it emerges as an adult.

Wild bees need very little to survive.

Some bare ground, a few flowering plants and a little bit of sunshine.

A colony of honeybees has abandoned their man-made

hive and made a new home in a fallen tree.

The bees did well over the summer.

But how will they fare now that the winter has set in?

But how will they fare now that the winter has set in?

The colony has fallen silent.

The bees have turned into icy sculptures.

Prehistoric bee sculptures solidified in amber are evidence that their kind has

pollinated flowers since the age of the dinosaurs.

And unlike the domesticated honeybee, our wild bees have evolved to survive the

cold winters Our wild bees have evolved to survive the cold winters without our help.

Nonetheless, honeybees play a crucial role in our lives today.

Not only do they pollinate many of our crops and garden

plants, they also produce something we've come to cherish.

The fruit of their labour.

Golden honey.

Our relationship with the honeybee is an ancient one.

Dating back some 10,000 years.

But it's also our most important one.

On which our very survival may depend.

Our relationship with the honeybee is an ancient one.