One Happy Bee

 The big pussy willow that's been in full flower for days has had few insect visitors I've noticed.  Today I was admiring a much smaller native willow when a very pretty bee landed on a male prairie willow catkin and got straight to work.  (I've planted three of these to provide for bees in spring.)  So busy and distracted was she that I got endless photos -- sorting through them all to find good ones was time-consuming.  INaturalist's top pick was "cellophane bees," which was enough for me to guess at the species.  

I had wondered what many unequal cellophane bees nesting in my yard were doing for food.  Now the mystery is why I've only seen one!

Unequal Cellophane Bee

 

Prairie willow (Salix humilis) is native shrub not often seen.

 

 The buds of my blueberries are swelling and will soon flower.

Momma Bee Gotta Eat

 

More bee nests have appeared in these last few weeks, and still unequal cellophane bees have been cruising low on sunny days.  

Laying eggs and provisioning their nests with food for the young costs momma bees a lot.  What did they have to eat this early in spring?   

Less than a week after I first spotted nesting bees, the big pussy willow beside the house began to bloom.  Since it's male, the tree produces a lot of nutritious pollen – the sole food of growing bee larvae.  A small European willow bloomed about the same time, but my small prairie willows and meadow willows (natives that I've planted) still lag well behind.  Much more important are the many red maples also in flower.  

 

All of these trees are often considered wind-pollinated, but insect pollination is clearly also important, and all produce nectar.

 

Pussy willow catkins beginning to show pollen-laden stamens.

 

I'm a little embarrassed that I didn't notice red maples in flower until they were nearly done.

Like willows, red maple is gendered; this one is male.