What bees do in winter
One species clusters and shivers its way through; every other bee here is either underground or dead.
Winter is the season the whole honey bee strategy exists for. Storing honey only makes sense if a colony intends to survive as a colony through months with no forage — which is why honey bees make honey and almost no other bee does.
One species clusters and shivers its way through; every other bee here is either underground or dead.
Almost nothing flowers, which is exactly why what does is worth planting. A garden's value is limited by its worst month.
The colony forms a tight cluster and generates heat by shivering its flight muscles, maintaining perhaps 20 °C at the edge and over 30 °C at the core where brood rearing restarts in January. Bees rotate between the cold outside of the cluster and the warm centre. The whole arrangement runs on stored honey — a British colony consumes roughly 20 to 25 kg over a winter — and it is precisely this that makes honey worth taking a surplus of. The colony does not hibernate: it stays awake, warm and metabolically active in the middle of a freezing hive, and on a mild day above about 10 °C bees will fly for cleansing flights and for any winter forage available.
Nothing above ground, in most species. Mated queens are in hibernation in small chambers a few centimetres down, having spent the autumn building fat reserves. A significant exception has developed in southern Britain and parts of western Europe: buff-tailed bumblebee colonies now overwinter actively in urban areas, foraging on winter-flowering garden shrubs, which is a genuine and recent change in behaviour driven by warmer cities and by planting.
All in the nest as larvae or pre-pupae, sealed in cells provisioned the previous summer. They will not emerge until spring, and the timing of that emergence is temperature-cued — which is one of the mechanisms by which a warming climate can decouple a specialist bee from the plant it depends on.
Winter-flowering plants, for the surprising number of bees that fly on mild days: winter honeysuckle, mahonia, hellebore, winter aconite, snowdrop, winter clematis and ivy where it is still in flower. And, again, leaving things alone — the stems, the litter, the undisturbed soil. There is no January bee-gardening task that beats not doing anything.
12 of 12 months have something in flower. Nectar and pollen are counted separately and a month counts only where at least one plant offers that resource at moderate value or better — a plant in flower is not the same as a plant worth visiting.
| Month | In flower | Nectar | Pollen |
|---|---|---|---|
| January | 47 | Yes | Yes |
| February | 55 | Yes | Yes |
| March | 44 | Yes | Yes |
| April | 27 | Yes | Yes |
| May | 14 | Yes | Yes |
| June | 8 | Yes | Yes |
| July | 8 | Yes | Yes |
| August | 8 | Yes | Yes |
| September | 12 | Yes | Yes |
| October | 21 | Yes | Yes |
| November | 35 | Yes | Yes |
| December | 44 | Yes | Yes |
Northern-hemisphere harvest windows from the honey records. A harvest window is when a flow is taken off, which is later than the flowering that produced it.
Months here are northern-hemisphere temperate. Southern-hemisphere readers should shift by roughly six months — but that shift is an approximation rather than a translation, because day length, rainfall pattern and the local flora do not shift with it. Records that genuinely span both hemispheres say so.
It is this season and I want to do this — what should I plant?
What should I plant so that something is always in flower for bees?
What should I plant in the space I actually have?
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