That means that the million-plus queens produced commercially each year are largely mating on the wing, with little to no input from the breeders. perform instrumental insemination at scale. Drone production by healthy colonies plays into the second factor that I needed to understand, the overall ecology of the mating environment. A colony that refuses to produce drones is likely not a colony that is in good shape. However, colony size also plays a factor, as we learned (anew) that smaller colonies will neither rear nor foster drones. In my myopic viewpoint, I neglected to consider that while yes, a colony that is anarchical or headed by an aging or poorly mated queen will produce an excess of drones, producing a seasonally appropriate number of drones is a sign of a colony doing well, growing sufficiently well so that it can commit to reproduction! Typically, a healthy colony will produce around 10% of their brood as drones, with that proportion increasing prior to swarming season (reviewed in Boes, 2010). The first thing I had to get over was the idea that the production of drones was, in and of itself, pathological. Tarpy and colleagues had previously done for queens (see Tarpy et al., 2012 or my own prior article in this magazine): establish a measure of reproductive quality and variation to develop a national-level database so that we can begin to understand how and why drones vary, and the consequences of this for the queen and colony. Nevertheless, upon joining the Honey Bee Queen & Disease Clinic, I was tasked with doing for drones what Dr. David Tarpy at NC State and the first project proposed was on the evaluation of drone reproductive health, my first thought was-“why?!” In my mind, these disposable social gametes were as unremarkable as a single spermatozoan, which (despite any Monty Python songs that might be evoked) are generally more interesting in aggregate than individually. Once, in a fit of bravado induced by an errant internet search, we fried the brood and served them at a party (they tasted like sweetened vegetable oil). Drones were a nuisance we pulled comb and froze the boys in their cells to minimize Varroa. ![]() I was trained in beekeeping as part of my graduate work on chemical communication among larvae and adults. ![]() Potential is measured both with morphometrics: seminal vesicle and mucus gland length, and by measuring sperm count and viability using We measure head and thorax width, and whole body and thoracic mass. Body size measures are made using a microscope and a scale. It is the rarest drone that will become a grandfather – siring a queen – and successfully pass his genes to the next generation.įigure 1: Measuring drones is conceptually Therefore, the final fate of the honey bee male is to exist solely as a tiny proportion of stored spermatozoa to be meted out by the queen in the formation of future workers, themselves sterile dead ends, which busily contribute to colony growth, provisioning, and development. To make matters worse, honey bees are highly polyandrous, with several different drones mating with each queen. ![]() This task is fatal to the drones, so even the fulfillment of this single job proves overwhelming. In fact, the boys have only a single, shamefully obvious task-to propagate their mother’s (usually the queen) genes to the next generation, flying en masse to mate with any virgin queen they can catch. Unlike the workers, queens, or even larvae, drones have no utility in the day-to-day operations of the honey bee colony. In the “girl-boss” dystopia that is the honey bee colony, drones are the dopey, do-nothings that are at best an annoyance, or at worst the signs of disorder and amplifier of parasites.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |