Photos by Anda Ādamsone-Fiskoviča
In July and August this summer, I had the opportunity to accompany BSC’s intern Maja from Wageningen University (Netherlands) on three full-day pollinator monitoring trips as part of the EU-funded RestPoll project (“Restoring pollinator habitats across European agricultural landscapes"). In this interdisciplinary project, in which BSC represents Latvia among 32 partner organisations from 16 countries, a team of international partners across various fields carry out research and practical activities to develop and evaluate participatory transdisciplinary approaches to address the decline of wild pollinators in Europe. The project started in late 2023 and will conclude in autumn 2027.
Maja and I visited monitoring sites during her third and final round of monitoring this summer, travelling together to three of the farms involved in the GrassLIFE project (2017-2023) – coordinated by the Latvian Fund for Nature – in Kurzeme, Latgale, and Vidzeme. The farms are situated in areas within the Natura2000 network that have undergone grassland restoration and made efforts to promote their sustainable management. For me as a sociologist, this was a new and unprecedented experience that allowed me to glean insights into the practicalities of pollinator monitoring and observe the diverse behaviour and appearance of plants and insects encountered in the meadows we visited. The impressions I gained are rich and cover a wide range of topics, which I wanted to bring together in this personal reflection.
The winding road of science
Firstly, my observations on monitoring and its underlying method. While at first glance everything in the pollinator monitoring protocol seems clear and well-defined, in practice one inevitably has to make adjustments; this highlights some of the issues with applying ideal scientific methods in real life. One such example is the classification of different farm fields into (a) those that serve as a reference site or example demonstrating established and functioning good practice, (b) those in transition towards adopting target practices, or (c) those that represent land use that does not align with good practice. Even if the fields can be identified and assigned a status, one must consider that land use in farms is dynamic and that the status of fields can change over time, thus complicating the durability of initial classifications. Fields themselves also change with time, shifting their status from one category to another – this is especially relevant for monitoring carried out over the span of several years. As a layperson, I had an almost sporting curiosity to determine which fields I encountered belonged to which of the three aforementioned categories. I must confess my guesses often missed their mark. I found that the appearance of a field at any given time can be misleading, depending on whether and when it had been mown, grazed, or left to grow.
The process of monitoring is like a fully developed choreography. First, Maja would place an improvised flag where the transect begins, photograph the site, record the wind speed and cloud cover, measure the grass height with a foldable ruler, and then, starting a stopwatch, slowly walk 150 metres across the field in a straight line. Periodically, she would use her indispensable tool – a bug net – to perform movements akin to those of an artistic gymnast to capture specimens noticed along the way. Since this distance needs to be covered in any field within 15 minutes (excluding stops when the stopwatch is paused), the researcher needs to be highly disciplined to be able to maintain an even speed equally well in a freshly mown meadow, where the pace is easier and one may inadvertently speed up, and in a knee-high meadow, where one can get their foot caught in the grass or trip over a molehill or ant mound.
While observing the process, I also learned that determining wind speed using a standardised 12-point Beaufort scale is a challenging task that involves a degree of subjectivity, as often the boundaries between scale points are difficult to fixate based on their description. Furthermore, they are largely dependent on natural features at a specific location that serve as indicators of wind exposure (large or small trees, their foliage, etc., which allows one to determine the effects of wind outlined in the standardised description). Also, the wind can change, making it hard to classify it in a specific “box”. It can jump from one category to another within seconds, alternating between gusts and lulls.
Also, it is no easy matter when it comes to pollinators themselves. In her observations, Maja focused exclusively on bees, disregarding hoverflies and butterflies, although they constitute a significant group of wild pollinators. One of the reasons for narrowing the focus, apart from the limits of a single researcher’s perceptive ability, is that these insects fly at different altitudes. Moreover, the possibilities to capture different specimens for identification also vary.
Both in conversations with Maja and while making my observations, it was interesting to see how scrupulous adherence to different measurement tools can gradually give way to accumulated knowledge and intuition. For example, if initially the coordinates for each transect were determined using a smartphone GPS application, in subsequent visits the researcher’s visual memory can take over, allowing them to identify the beginning and end point of each transect without relying on any additional tools. The same applies to the stopwatch, in time it becomes a formal instrument, as one develops an internal sense of the pace and number of steps necessary for each given distance.
At the same time, various digital tools can make identifying different wild insects and plants easier, such as the free mobile application ObsIdentify for nature observers, which lets you instantly determine the species by taking a photograph on the spot. However, internet access may pose limitations, especially when monitoring in more remote areas. On our last trip, we had the opportunity to meet an experienced Estonian colleague from the GrassLIFE2 project, who also specialises in pollinators, and learn that, with experience, even an office or field microscope may not be necessary to identify the species or sex of an insect. It is likely because the eye learns to recognise distinct nuances, from the insect’s size, the colour tones and their arrangement on the body, to the length of the feelers, the presence or absence of a stinger, the shape of the eyes, and the sounds it produces.
Here, one can also reflect on the methods used to capture and identify pollinators. As I have learned during the RestPoll project, there is a heated debate among insect researchers (entomologists) about which methods are most effective and which cause less harm. In this project, our natural science partners opted for the more time-consuming transect walk approach over the pan trap method, named for the pan-like shape of the container. The former allows targeted study of specific insects – researchers can capture and, if necessary, kill only specific specimens for study purposes that are difficult or impossible to identify in the field. In contrast, the pan trap method uses small, coloured containers (white, blue and yellow) filled with soapy water that are placed in selected fields to trap and, in most cases, kill any insects that happen to get into them and cannot escape.
Each method has pros and cons in terms of the accuracy of acquired data, as well as ethical considerations, which does not make the choice between the two any easier. In regards to the transect method, the harm inflicted on captured insects may be lesser, as significantly fewer specimens are caught, and those captured are placed in a container with a tissue soaked in acetone, which ensures a relatively quick death (I also learned that a specimen needs to be placed in a humidifier to prevent it from drying up; this makes for easier handling during research and storage). At the same time, the transect walk approach constantly tempts the researcher to deviate from the set path, especially if they notice a vibrant cluster of flowers or an interesting insect just a few steps away from the course. Alas, according to methodological guidelines, the researcher must pass by these distractions with cold-blooded detachment. As Maja confessed, it can be frustrating to spot an initially missed interesting pollinator after finishing insect monitoring and going back along the transect to document flowering plants, since it can no longer be recorded at that stage.
Monitoring is not without its comedic incidents. For example, in meadows with longer grass, it can be difficult to trace your steps to the starting point where you left your bags. Grazing farm animals are a special case – they can trample the bag of collected specimens you left behind, and their reactions towards researchers in their habitat can vary greatly. These can range from indifference to mild curiosity to actively approaching newcomers, which can often be intimidating. We had to skip one monitoring field and flee the electric enclosure because a sizeable herd of cows, including a bull and calves the herd was watching over, were making dedicated strides in our direction, making it clear that our presence was not welcome. The safety of researchers working in an open field is no laughing matter. We also experienced the scorching nature of the sun, which can be quite challenging when you must stay out in the open for 5-6 hours straight. At times like this, I appreciated the little clusters of trees left in the middle of the field, which are useful not only for insects and other living creatures but also for researchers briefly seeking shelter from the heat. The task can also be made difficult by the constant pestering of flies, midges, mosquitoes, and gnats, especially when it is clear that no insect-repellent lotions or sprays can be used, as these can affect results by inadvertently scaring away the very insects being monitored.
The natural world
The second set of observations pertains to meadows and what takes place in them. Each of the farms we visited had a different rural landscape with its own charm – rolling hills, panoramic views of the surrounding countryside, the embrace of forests and rivers, a sense of spaciousness. I also noticed how different each meadow sounded – some recently mown ones were very quiet, while others surprised me with the unexpected loud chirping of grasshoppers. This inadvertently conjured associations of insect orchestras as depicted in literary works – the way high and low, stretched-out and vibrating sounds produced by the meadow’s denizens complement the overall soundscape. However, the biggest surprise came from a meadow with a peaceful herd of cows. Their asynchronous wagging of tails and ears to chase away bugs, combined with their collective grazing, initially made me think of a nearby flag fluttering in the wind or a storm brewing in the distance.
It was interesting to observe the correlation between the presence of flowering plants and pollinators in meadows – particularly their quantity and species. It was noticeable that various insects prefer yellow or purple flowers. Bumblebees seem to "like" field scabious, red clover and the juicy flowers of some low-growing thistle-like plants. Insect activity is influenced by the weather, depending on whether it is moments before or after rainfall, whether the sun is out or there is shade from clouds. Personally, I was expecting to see more butterflies, which are naturally easier to spot over a wider area; in the meadows we visited their number could be counted on the fingers of one hand. This was in stark contrast to the frequency of bees and other flying insects encountered in some flowering meadows. I tried to capture them amateurishly one by one using my phone camera. While doing this, I found that some insects were distinctly more photogenic and seemed to appreciate getting their picture taken, while others seemed to mock me, quickly migrating from one flower to another. In the process, however, I noticed that many preferred one particular species of flower, leaving the others untouched.
One of the things I have learned on more than one occasion now is about the existing competition between wild bees and honey bees over available resources. As honey bees are looked after by humans, they are often stronger than their wild counterparts, which can threaten the latter’s survival in places where the two meet. This can spark tensions between beekeepers and conservationists – each acts as a patron for their side, transferring this potential conflict from the natural world to the human sphere. As a result, promoting and implementing various wild pollinator-friendly practices becomes more complex. I think this will certainly be one of the themes that will be further explored in the project through a social scientific lens.
The power of a word
Lastly, my third observation concerns the term “pollinator” itself. At one point while in the middle of a meadow, it dawned on me that the term, like many others, is distinctly anthropocentric. As such, it reflects how humans conceptualise these insects in functional terms – their ability to serve our needs. In that sense, they could rather be called “nectar gatherers” or something similar, which would be a more accurate reflection of their interests. The meanings encoded in language and in the choice of words are thus evident here, and they tell us a great deal about our general perception of the world and the relationships that govern it.
Post Scriptum
In summation, with the strong drive in science towards interdisciplinarity and research collaboration, all involved have to constantly learn things that are unknown and distant to their field. This is definitely mutually enriching and helps to broaden one’s perspective of objects or phenomena that are studied, as well as to become more familiar with methods and practices of other disciplines. At the same time, one has to bear in mind that such interdisciplinary research comes with a perpetual sense of ignorance, which can be disheartening at times but can fuel the pursuit of new knowledge and experiences.
After each such encounter with a new object of research, I inevitably find that my attention to aspects related to it sharpens, even when I am not actively engaged in my work responsibilities. Similar to how during one of my field outings this summer I immediately noticed an intercropping of cabbages and marigolds in a farm's backyard garden – this was one of the practices that I had studied with the Institute of Horticulture in an earlier project (GreenHort) – I will, in the future, look at the world of pollinators around us in a very different and more discerning way. Three years of work on wild pollinators lie ahead, after which I will likely be able to reread my current personal insights with a light smile. I find it important to record these to understand later how my understanding and knowledge have changed as I get deeper into a particular research topic. In any case, I am grateful to Maja for her patience in introducing me to this hitherto little-known field of research and the GrassLIFE and GrassLIFE2 project team for their cooperation and for the opportunity to include their participant farms in our research.