The tiny insect clinging to this grass spike is a Greater Bee Fly, so named because it looks something like a bumblebee. It’s not a bee, though. It’s a fly. It does not bite or sting. It does not defend itself in any way. It doesn’t harm humans at all, and most people never even notice it.
Many animals eat small insects the size of Greater Bee Flies, including birds, spiders, wasps, and ambush bugs. Of course, bees sting, and nobody likes to get stung in the mouth. So sometimes resembling a bumblebee means the bee fly survives to fly another day.
You see the part that looks like a long stinger? That’s the bee fly’s tongue, or proboscis, which is a built-in straw for dipping into flowers and sipping nectar. A bee fly’s proboscis is always straight and never curls into a spiral the way a butterfly’s does.
Bee flies usually emerge in March, ahead of many other pollinators. That is why they’re important to spring ephemeral flowers, which need to get pollinated early.
I became aware of Greater Bee Flies this year when Spring Beauties, Blue Violets, and other flowers starting blooming in the woods. I watched many soft, furry-looking bee flies hover an inch or two from the ground, feeding on blossom nectar. Often their fuzzy bodies were yawing from side to side, like docked sailboats on a breezy day.
My bee fly
Last Saturday, the weather suddenly turned cold in the late afternoon. I found a Greater Bee Fly clutching a spike of grass. The little creature let me approach and held on even when I picked the stem for a closer look. It must have been too cold to fly.
I brought the grass and insect home and set the stem into a pot on my porch. That night the temperature dropped to 32 degrees. Early next morning I saw that the bee fly was still clutching the grass spike. Had it frozen to death? No, I could see one leg moving slightly.
When the sun finally touched my porch, I went outside for another look. The bee fly must have seen me coming, because in an instant it dropped from the grass stem onto its back. It lay on the soil in the pot with its legs pointed up like a dead fly on a windowsill.
Had it died at the very moment I was walking up to it? I was still staring in surprise when the bee fly flipped right side up and walked to the edge of the pot. It climbed onto the rim and stood motionless for half a minute. Too cold yet to fly, I guessed. Then its wings began to vibrate.
(See the 12-second movie, below.)
Its wings started beating wider and faster. And then suddenly my Greater Bee Fly was gone. On its way to pollinate another Spring Beauty.
Seeing its wings revving up tugged my heart. I’m also a bit jealous of its ability to land on gorgeous flowers and drink nectar.
This is so wonderful, Diane! Thanks for sharing this peek into the life of the tiny and marvelous bee fly 💕