Alkham Village – Library Image
By Alan Latham – I consider myself quite handy with a saw and drill, though my dental work leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to chewing through solid timber.
So, you can imagine my professional jealousy when an unsanctioned, six-legged subcontractor showed up on my driveway to demonstrate superior joinery skills without a single power tool in sight.
It all started when my wife spotted what she believed to be a bee landing on our improvised footrest—a massive trunk salvaged from a felled apple tree in my Alkham near Dover home.
She watched the miniature intruder vanish straight into the bark.
Investigating the crime scene the following day, I discovered a neat cone of sawdust which I scraped away to reveal a perfectly round, precision-drilled hole that would make any master carpenter weep into his tool belt.
Determined to catch this tiny timber-tormentor in the act, I sat in wait, camera in hand, hoping to snap a quick portrait. My research quickly identified the culprit: the solitary carpenter bee.
Unlike my usual honeybee friends with their royal queens, bustling worker unions, and lazy drones, this independent contractor operates entirely solo. She chews out a tunnel several inches deep, laying a handful of eggs inside pollen sacks, neatly partitioning each nursery room with custom sawdust walls.
Scanning the yard, I spotted a redundant piece of construction timber just a few meters away, featuring a suspiciously identical hole. It seems the neighborhood is suffering from an unpermitted housing boom.
Sadly, the elusive lead architect refused to pose for my camera. Instead, an inquisitive wasp dropped by to inspect the site with unknown—and frankly sinister—intentions. Certain solitary wasps are known to hijack these wooden havens, turning the developing bee larvae into a personal buffet for their own offspring.
According to the Bumblebee Conservation Trust, the UK hosts an astounding 270 species of bees, with around 250 of them leading solitary lives as carpenter, mining, and mason bees. While I may never match their toothy precision, I have to respect a craftsman who works entirely without a plug socket.