Bumblebees are among the most frustrating insects to photograph; they are so big, comparatively speaking, so numerous, so vibrantly coloured, that I am obliged to try to "get" them. But I aim, press the shutter button half-way, wait the split second it takes the camera to decide what I want, and ... try again. The main character has exited, stage left.
Try and follow one around, through all its dizzying changes of direction, until it lands on a flower, and it invariably (or so it seems) lands on the one flower that you can't reach without falling into the rosebush or stepping on the gardener's prize petunias.
Get a good chance at one on a daisy right under your nose, and it is vibrating so rapidly, so ecstatically, that all your camera records is a yellow blur.
So I was amazed to find this one on an allium yesterday; it stayed in the same position, on the same flower, for so long that I thought it was dead until I saw the antennae moving.
I wanted a face shot, since he was being so co-operative, but this was a bit harder; the tiny allium petals were always in between, and the camera liked them better.
Got it, though. Just before the bumblebee decided to leave; this was becoming altogether too, too public.
I'll have to do a bit of Googling to identify the facial structures: is that four eyes, or two? And if two, which two? (The forward ones, I think.)
This one presented no anatomical conundrums. And no buzzing wings; he was nicely subdued by his choice of flower. A second later, and he was backing out, legs and wings flailing. He spun and left, to land next on the topmost rose on the bush, well over my head.