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Susy Smith has a bee in her bonnet about insects – and she’s on a mission to support them in her own backyard and beyond

Susy Smith is on a mission to support bees in her backyard and beyond

One of my daughters told me an interesting factoid recently: if bees were paid the minimum wage, a jar of honey would cost £142,000. A quick check online tells me that the exact amount seems to be up for some discussion, but I think we can safely agree it would be a lot of money. As each bee will only make about one-twelfth of a teaspoon of honey in its lifetime, there is no question they work extremely hard for scant recompense. We are lucky to reap the rewards from their endeavour. I shall savour my morning sourdough toast and honey with even greater relish having learned just how much effort it takes to get it to my table.

Bees are our friends in so many ways and, as a gardener, I am a big fan. There is nothing lovelier than pottering in my patch on a sunny day to the accompaniment of a robin’s song and the buzzing of bees. I make sure there are plenty of plants in my garden that will attract them, along with the hoverflies that are also beneficial.

Of course, as key pollinators, bees are important for much more than just our gardens: three-quarters of crops depend on them, so they are vital to our food security. They are also crucial for other wildlife, both as food and as pollinators of wild plants. I found it somewhat baffling and very worrying, then, that earlier this year the UK government reversed a ban on a pesticide that is deadly to bees. The neonicotinoid thiamethoxam was banned throughout Europe in 2018 because of the widespread harm it causes. But, following pleas from the NFU and UK sugar producers, the secretary of state sanctioned the chemical for emergency use against a virus that threatened to wipe out 80 per cent of some farms’ sugar beet. Thankfully, at the last minute, the widespread spraying was halted, as the threat from the virus abated.

But this is a dilemma that will arise again and again: farmers may need help to save their crops but, conversely, the solution will adversely affect the pollinators other farmers, and we, rely on. Should we opt for short-term gain versus long-term loss? Surely the answer has to be no. It seems crazy to allow the use of any pesticides that kill key pollinators already in drastic decline. A recent report by The Wildlife Trusts identifies that, on average, the insect population is declining by 2.5 per cent each year, with 41 per cent of insect species threatened with extinction. The knock-on effect on the birds, bats, reptiles, amphibians, small mammals and fish that rely on them for food is massive: the UK population of spotted flycatchers, for example, dropped by a devastating 93 per cent between 1967 and 2016, with numbers of cuckoos and nightingales experiencing similar falls. The health of our countryside is at a crossroads and it needs our help.

So, what can we, as ordinary nature lovers, do? Of course, we can become an activist for insects (see box, below). But at the most simple level, we can celebrate plants we often think of as weeds – brambles, buttercups, dandelions, creeping thistle, common hogweed and ox-eye daisies all attract insects. In our gardens and allotments, we can grow the plants that pollinators love – borage, buddleia, common marigolds and, of course, lavender. I have two varieties in my garden: the low-growing ‘Hidcote’, with its dark-purple flowers, and ‘Sussex’ from Downderry Nursery in Kent, which has long spikes of pale flowers and the most amazing scent. I collect the dried heads after flowering to make anti-clothes-moth lavender bags.

This lovely variety grows with roses as a hedge at the front of my house and in summer is abuzz with dozens of bees, bringing lots of comments from passers-by. I feel I am doing my bit for insects: I try not to mind earwigs eating my dahlias, gave up growing auriculas because of vine weevil and cleared my garden of all my box trees when box tree caterpillar arrived, to avoid using endless chemicals. But I will declare honestly at this point that I am never going to fall in love with aphids. When they begin to cluster on my roses and the ladybirds and blue tits aren’t chomping through them quickly enough, I use a spray of diluted washing-up liquid and, with rubber gloves, happily go round squashing the offenders. I know all creatures have their place but, really, one has to draw the line somewhere!