[Pollinator] Bombus affinis in Southern Appalachians survey strategy for 2019

[Droege, Sam]

All

It is now clear that the Southern Appalachians are the only part of the
continent East of Illinois that appears to still house the formerly
common *Bombus
affinis*.

Why they remain here where elsewhere they have disappeared is unclear.  Yet
they persist, and that is promising and provides a glimmering of the
possibility of a recovery.  So we know we can't fix the parasitism issues
that are the driver for declines, but perhaps there are things to learn
from where they do and do not occur.  So, further surveys would be a good
thing.

In the context of survey goodness we have a number of separate groups that
have been doing surveys, others that are thinking about surveys, and others
still that could be conscripted if there was a need.  At this point, there
is little communication among groups in terms of coordination and a means
of alerting others to discoveries or thoughts.

So, taking the bee by the antennae I would like to set up an email group
outside of the beemonitoring group to talk about coordinating southern
Appalachian* B. affinis *surveys in 2019.

If you are interested DO NOT REPLY TO BEEMONITORING LISTSERV....rather, in
small caps, send a simple email to me (sdroege at usgs.gov) with the subject
heading:

*B. affinis in Appalachia*

No need for anything in the body...hold your thoughts for the group
discussions.

and next Wednesday I will start a separate email string and we will see if
we can better document occurrences of* B. affinis* in its mountain
stronghold.

If you send me and email, but do not hear anything on Wednesday...get back
in touch, who knows what may have happened.

Thanks

sam

Song of Nature

Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gulf of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.

I hid in the solar glory,
I am dumb in the pealing song,
I rest on the pitch of the torrent,
In slumber I am strong.

No numbers have counted my tallies,
No tribes my house can fill,
I sit by the shining Fount of Life,
And pour the deluge still;

And ever by delicate powers
Gathering along the centuries
>From race on race the rarest flowers,
My wreath shall nothing miss.

And many a thousand summers
My apples ripened well,
And light from meliorating stars
With firmer glory fell.

I wrote the past in characters
Of rock and fire the scroll,
The building in the coral sea,
The planting of the coal.

And thefts from satellites and rings
And broken stars I drew,
And out of spent and aged things
I formed the world anew;

What time the gods kept carnival,
Tricked out in star and flower,
And in cramp elf and saurian forms
They swathed their too much power.

Time and Thought were my surveyors,
They laid their courses well,
They boiled the sea, and baked the layers
Or granite, marl, and shell.

But he, the man-child glorious,--
Where tarries he the while?
The rainbow shines his harbinger,
The sunset gleams his smile.

My boreal lights leap upward,
Forthright my planets roll,
And still the man-child is not born,
The summit of the whole.

Must time and tide forever run?
Will never my winds go sleep in the west?
Will never my wheels which whirl the sun
And satellites have rest?

Too much of donning and doffing,
Too slow the rainbow fades,
I weary of my robe of snow,
My leaves and my cascades;

I tire of globes and races,
Too long the game is played;
What without him is summer's pomp,
Or winter's frozen shade?

I travail in pain for him,
My creatures travail and wait;
His couriers come by squadrons,
He comes not to the gate.

Twice I have moulded an image,
And thrice outstretched my hand,
Made one of day, and one of night,
And one of the salt sea-sand.

One in a Judaean manger,
And one by Avon stream,
One over against the mouths of Nile,
And one in the Academe.

I moulded kings and saviours,
And bards o'er kings to rule;--
But fell the starry influence short,
The cup was never full.

Yet whirl the glowing wheels once more,
And mix the bowl again;
Seethe, fate! the ancient elements,
Heat, cold, wet, dry, and peace, and pain.

Let war and trade and creeds and song
Blend, ripen race on race,
The sunburnt world a man shall breed
Of all the zones, and countless days.

No ray is dimmed, no atom worn,
My oldest force is good as new,
And the fresh rose on yonder thorn
Gives back the bending heavens in dew.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson



-- 
*How Can you Save the Bees if You Don't Even Know Their Names?*
*- Bee*
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