Mark Chao

This bee is a tough one to process, both analytically and emotionally, as she could well be a prized new native species for me, but also could be an introduced species I've seen plenty of already -- a glass half full, or half empty, or maybe two-thirds full of fine wine but diluted with cold water.  The candidates: * Cresson's Mining Bee (Andrena cressonii). Native to much of North America. Common, but confirmed photographs of live females are rare in our region (only one in New York on iNaturalist).  * Wilke's Mining Bee (A. wilkella). Native to Europe, introduced and widely established in eastern North America. Very commonly seen and photographed (>200 in New York on iNaturalist).  A. cressonii activity should be peaking right about now, while A. wilkella should become prevalent only in late May and June. Is this May 5 bee a Cresson's Mining Bee right on time? Or a Wilke's a few weeks early?  The black hind basitarsus, under the pouf of long golden scopal hairs, seems to point to Cresson's too, as all the Wilke's I've ever seen have had bright orange basitarsi. Inconveniently, however, published species accounts say that leg color ranges from orange to black in both species. The clinching distinctions are probably visible only under the microscope -- texture of facial integument, proportions of the labrum ("lip" at the bottom of the face), sculpturing of the pronotum (collar of the thorax), and sheen of the abdomen. But as keen as I am to know for sure, my curiosity and listing motivation surely don't justify taking her as a specimen. So the wine content of the glass might never rise to 100 percent for this one. But I'm cool with that. An expert over on iNaturalist does say that this looks like A. cressonii to him, and even affirms my sense about leg color, which is satisfying enough for the analytic part of my brain.  #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #andrena #andrenacressonii

The bee species of the week in our garden is the Neighborly Mining Bee (Andrena vicina) --  a little lift-giver of a name to say, just as the bee herself is a small joy to see. Several females have been foraging at this black chokeberry (Aronia melanocarpa), triggering an improbably quick passage from peak bloom to floral senescence within just a day or two. Our native bees and native plants make great neighbors. They also help make good neighbors out of us. Practically every time my wife and I are in the garden, people call out.  "I love your garden!"   "So beautiful -- what are these flowers called?" "What are you looking for?" "Found any more good bees today?" We exchange names, ask questions, share updates, making our own improbably fast transition from strangers to true neighbors -- mothers and fathers pushing strollers, families with inquisitive grade-schoolers, teenagers lugging saxophone cases and hockey sticks, retirees out for exercise, Christians and Jews and Muslims and non-religious people, from households flying American flags and pride flags and Buffalo Bills banners, plus at least half a dozen others who have independently decided also to plant for pollinators.   Surely we would connect and care about each other even without our garden. But it sure is nice to have a catalyst. As my wife has aptly observed, the garden for us is what a cute, tail-wagging dog is for others -- a reason for people to pause on the street and say hello, instead of just walking by. #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #andrenavicina #neighbors #neighbours

The petals of our golden-alexanders (Zizia aurea) are still pale and furled, their stamens cocked inside but not yet ready to spring. So the female bees remain underground, and this male Golden-Alexanders Mining Bee (Andrena ziziae) can only sit and wait, trying to stay warm and ready. Each of the blossoms is about 1 mm across, so the bee is only 5-6 mm long. We have several spring-emergent mining bee species whose males are this small, with pale lower faces. A run through the Discover Life key to male Andrena supports this species ID based on a combination of clues -- the host flower, the position of the ocelli (simple eyes atop the head), the wing venation (especially the broad stigma, which is the dark spot at the leading edge of the folded forewing), and the length and width of the flagellomeres (antennal segments). #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #pollinatorhabitat #andrenaziziae #goldenalexanders

A female Spring Beauty Mining Bee (Andrena erigeniae), laden with pink pollen from her namesake wildflower, hesitates before entering her nest burrow under the leaf litter at the Cayuga Shores Wildlife Management Area yesterday 🐝🌸. A few minutes later, I saw another female A. erigeniae, also carrying a full harvest of pink pollen, in the web of a huge, rotund orb-weaving spider. I considered the striking photo op for a few milliseconds, then rejected it. I spent three more seconds weighing the natural order and my moral responsibility within it. It was a lot for my non-AI-aided mind to process, given the time urgency, complexity, and existential stakes for two beautiful creatures.   My heart intervened -- just stop thinking and go. I pulled the bee out. I wish everyone could experience the intense high-frequency buzz I felt as I closed and then opened my fingers, affirming "Yes, I am fully, vibrantly alive...no, I am not going to sting...and yes, now I am going to take my pollen home."   (Apologies to the noble spider.) #nativebees #pollinatorhabitat #andrenaerigeniae

An Unequal Cellophane Bee (Colletes inaequalis) sits at the entrance of her freshly-dug burrow at the East Lawn Cemetery in Ithaca, ready to fend off any other female that might venture into her tunnel, or to pull back if any male comes too close too soon.  She was wary of me too at first, but after a minute, she relaxed and let me stay within a few inches. Now the return of cold weather has forced all the bees back underground for a few days. The weather forecast and the calendar are hinting that everything could sync up by early next week -- temperatures, flowering trees, ready nests -- for mating and pollen collection to rise steeply to their peaks. April 5, 2026 #nativebees #pollinatorhabitat #colletesinaequalis  @projectgnbee

Between rough entanglements with suitors and deliberate ground surveys to decide where to dig back in, a newly emerged female Trout-lily Mining Bee pauses to compose herself. Like my photos of the males last week, these are composites of images taken with receding focus planes (stacks of nine, four, and seven, respectively). The reduction of blur still seems a little uncanny to me. But I'm glad the photos let her show off all that soft, impeccably coiffed golden fur. 🐝: Andrena erythronii 🗓️: March 30, 2026 📍: Bluegrass Lane Natural Area, Ithaca NY #nativebees #pollinatorhabitat #andrenaerythronii #canonmacro #focusstacking @projectgnbee

Yesterday, the year's first half-dozen male Trout-lily Mining Bees (Andrena erythronii) emerged at the Bluegrass Lane Natural Area in Ithaca. Unable to sniff out any females, they mostly just rambled on foot over the grass, taking occasional long pauses, as if processing the overwhelming sensations of life in new bodies in the alien landscape above ground.  These pauses offered a rare opportunity to try focus stacking. Each image here is a composite of seven photos, each focusing on a different plane of the bee's body, merged later using Canon desktop photo editing software.   #nativebees #pollinatorhabitat #andrenaerythronii #canonmacro #focusstacking @projectgnbee

On the cusp between frigid blue afternoon and angled golden twilight, a small owl collects its thoughts. But what thoughts? What brave hopes? What uncertainties? It seems we might discern something in those expressive eyes, but I think they are not so much windows as reflecting pools for each human observer. The second photo shows the same bird two days later -- same hour, same tree, different hole, a warmer gray sky, and a wholly different mood projected back at us 😡🤩.   🦉: Eastern Screech-Owl 📍: Ithaca, NY 🗓️: February 8 and 10, 2026 #easternscreechowl #owls

So...just when I thought bee season had flickered out, just a few days after my melancholy last post with its emo pseudo-poem, who should come along but this august augochlorine male?  I think that this is probably a Golden Sweat Bee (Augochlorella aurata) because of the pointed outermost closed cell on the leading edge of his forewing, as well as his very small size and mostly brown (not black) antennae, ruling out Augochlora pura. We might have Augochlorella persimilis and gratiosa in our area too, but mid-October seems too late for them in New York. Though common in our region's woodlands, Augochlorella aurata has been a challenging target for me. If the ID is confirmed, this would be the first presentable photo I've ever taken of any Augochlorella in our garden.  And aside from his bronzed brilliance in the sun's white glare, he also put on a dazzling display of furiously fast forelegs and middle legs, like Roy Jones Jr. training with a speed bag. You can scroll to the video to see for yourself (it's not a time lapse). #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #pollinatorhabitat #augochlorella #augochlorellaaurata

[✨] Only so for hours Late leaves, subsiding flowers Noon losing light, night growing cold Nature's last green is gold 🐝 Male Agapostemon sp. (I think A. sericeus, the Silky Striped Sweat Bee, or maybe A. virescens, the Bicolored Striped Sweat Bee) 🗓️ 15 October and 12 October 2025 ✨ With respectful apologies to Robert Frost and his purist fans #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #agapostemon #agapostemonsericeus

I think we've just seen the last working days of the year's last female solitary bee -- this Flat-tailed Leafcutter Bee (Megachile mendica, also known as the Beggar Leafcutter Bee) -- among the Canada goldenrod and panicled asters in our garden.   She's an easy bee to admire. I like how shifting sunlight on various flowers reveals different angles of her simple beauty.  #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #pollinatorhabitat #megachilemendica

In composing and cropping images, what's the best tradeoff between close views of a bee and broad views of the habitat? For my tastes and purposes, zooming in for detail almost always offsets the loss of context, especially for square or 4:5 photos on Instagram.  But I try to keep an open mind. Some of my favorite photos by our greatest bee photographers (@claybolt and @beesip ) set a whole different standard, highlighting both the bees and their dazzling backgrounds, even entire mountain landscapes, each elevating the beauty of the other. So here is a bee in fuller context than usual -- a male small carpenter bee (Ceratina sp., probably C. calcarata) among the asters in our garden this week. Do you think about these tradeoffs for your own wildlife photos? I welcome any comments. #nativebees #pollinatorgarden #pollinatorhabitat #ceratina