Snappish Snapdragon

On a recent summer morning, as I glided through the garden in search of just the right flowers and herbs to adorn the breakfast dishes, I was distracted by a frantic whine. With my ear to the ground (or flowers if you like), I zeroed in on the high-pitched buzzing, as it had now become more of a fluttering frenzy. The hullabaloo was definitely coming from a snapdragon plant.

I gingerly poked my face in and around clusters of flowers, wondering how I was missing what I realized at this point was obviously a very upset bee. Other busy workers dipped and looped about, going about their daily chores as though they were all in an intricately choreographed ballet.  Knowing I could very definitely upset the apple-cart, so to speak, I gently pulled an unoccupied cluster of flowers closer as I had identified the problem. Well, I use the word "unoccupied" loosely. Certainly there were no pollinators right there, but just visible through a snapdragon flower was  a shadowy, vibrating, panick-stricken little bee, stuck inside!

The flower must have clamped shut its mouth and was refusing to let the bee out! In fact I'm sure it was smirking at how clever it was.  I took matters into my own hands, literally.  Very gently grasping the flower's gullet, I squeezed until the snapdragon was forced to pop open.  Out shot the exasperated and decidedly ungrateful bee. She soared up to the sky putting as much distance between us as her little wings could deliver.  Buzzzzzzzzz.... She was loaded with pollen from her cramped overnight rumble, and in a big hurry to unload!

Now I am reflecting on what a good job it is that I grew up in bountiful gardens and learned how to "snap" open a snapdragon!



  

So the first picture is the snapdragon flower with its lips tightly shut, being ornery, and in the second picture, my fingers have squeezed it open.  See the whole top is agape.  No picture of bee escaping I'm afraid.