Pink and Yellow Squares

I've been fuss-potting around for MONTHS planning my Next Significant Move with the bees. Yesterday my plan finally went into action.

I decided last summer that my bees are so successful, they need to go into a larger Brood Box. No longer a Standard British National, but rather a 14x12, which has deeper frames in the brood box to allow the Queen more space to lay and thereby reducing the likelihood of the colony swarming. Also, making the change from a standard-sized box to a larger box early in the season would focus the bees harder on the job of creating honeycomb in the new frames and thereby also decreasing their likelihood of swarming. (However, it is a notable saying of beeks that "bees don't read the same books that we do", so it's all a guess anyway.)

But also, because the bees now rule my heart and my head's gone out the window, a bigger box means less trauma every time I inspect the bees - instead of using a brood-and-a-half and breaking the 2 boxes and all the honeycomb every time I visit, the larger box and larger frames mean only 12 frames to inspect instead of 22.

All winter I bought new supplies - the larger brood box, the paint, the frames, the honeycomb. In the late winter, I spent several very satisfying evenings in front of the telly hammering nails into new frame constructions. Yesterday morning I put the final touches in place by adding the fresh wax foundation sheets.

And I also thought I'd try out a thing I'd seen on other hives - I spray-painted two squares on the front - one pink and one yellow. They say the bees' visual recognition of the shapes and colours aid them in geo-locating their hive entrance. Hmmmm, let's see, shall we?

We had a friend over for lunch yesterday and so it turned out I had an audience to further intimidate me on this all-important manipulation. I was filled with trepidation, in addition to aching all over from a two-hour bike ride the previous day.

No doubt about it, I was nervous all round.

It took a lot of persuading to get My Guy suited up in a beesuit too; he sounded like a very reluctant Tigger and had all sorts of reasons why he couldn't possibly help me move the hive. But eventually - valiantly - he donned the suit and stepped forward to help. I needed to move the double brood box, roof and floor 2 feet to the left and move the entrance 90 degrees off from the original, to confuse the bees.

"Put your hands under here," I said "and commit yourself. Just pick it up and step back smoothly" and that said, I proceeded to tangle myself in a loose piece of barbed wire and stagger all over the place, nearly toppling the hive and scotching all our plans. The audience (standing a goodly 6 feet away) fell about laughing. Not a good start ...

Finally the two of us were set; we lifted the hive (setting off an alarmed BUZZZ from within) and set it down nearby.

That's when I suddenly realised It Was All Finally Happening.

I spent so much time visualising practice runs in my head, all winter. Funnily enough, all of my thoughts had sort of meandered off into mingled dreams of success and holidays in New Zealand, so I hadn't really visualised the entire process through from beginning to end.

A lot also counted on me finding the Queen. Which, of course, I didn't.

She was nowhere to be seen so I just plodded on regardless. I placed the new Pink & Yellow Hive in the original location, onto the lovely heavy hive stand gifted to me by my mentors. I made sure lots of deep frames were standing by, then took a deep breath and opened the Itchy Knee/San-Shi double brood hive.

They were lovely; I'll grant them that - the girls were incredibly forgiving and never stung me once (that I know of. I was suitably layered in about 6 shirts and 3 pants, and sweating like a pig before 5 minutes had lapsed.) I began by identifying, in Itchy Knee, which frames had brood and transferring those. I bumped all the bees gently off their frames into the new hive.

I set that box aside, covered it gently, and began to look through the previously-unchecked San-Shi hive. There were 4 frames of brood, including capped Drone cells. She is well on her way for the Summer, that's for sure!

My silly bleeding heart couldn't cope with the thought of killing too many babies, so I transferred 7 frames full in all. I know that's going to cause trouble later on, I just know it:

• Those original shallower frames will encourage the bees to build wild comb underneath, which they'll join up to the floor - bad when I inspect and have to pull them out :(
• At some stage, I'm going to have to replace them anyway with new, deeper frames. I've just prolonged the inevitable. I am silly.

But - oh well - what's done is done.

At no stage did I see the Queen. I am a bit worried about that, but perhaps less than I should be because, bless them, the bees went across quietly, and they all immediately gathered through the new hive entrance. Plus I know that if I've lost her, they have enough baby brood to begin building Emergency Queen Cells to replace her.

I know too how resilient these bees are; they are doing so well already and they have survived so much, so far, I know they are good.

Once again, they inspire me. It was satisfying to hear the audience suitably "oohing" and "aahing" through the course of the manipulation; My Guy said afterwards "you looked really confident and professional all the way through, Margs, more than ever."

* * *

I went straight in from the hive, stripped off a couple of sweated-through layers and sat down to lunch with Guy and friend. A glass of red wine gulped back with the magnificent meal - it all tasted wondrous. Endorphins enhancing the high, I'm guessing :)

Much later that evening, in the blue glow of twilight, I went back down to the apiary to check on the girls. The old boxes were clear of bees and I removed all the honey frames to the Kitchen lean-to room (hereforward to be known as The Beekeeper's Room) - first honey to process! It was fascinating to see that one entire frame - front and back - was glued solid with a black concrete-like honey. Ivy; the first I've ever seen; honey that granulates and solidifies so fast in the honeycomb that it's useless to the bees, who can't extract it in the winter and often starve to death in a hive filled with the stuff. Most interesting to see, and I wonder if it's still possible for me to extract and taste ... must investigate further!

The bees were still; a few circling in the air above, and dozens crawling all over the white exterior and marching in lines around the Pink and Yellow Squares. I do hope the fresh paint smell doesn't put them off. I fed them, and will feed them again in 48 hours. The sugar water stimulates their wax production glands, and they will be drawing out honeycomb furiously fast. I can't wait to see it!

* * *

I miss being close to my old beek association, and am looking forward keenly to seeing them all again in mid-April at the Secret Bee Hut. Never better than when a whole load of beeks stump into the old hut together and jabber away at top volume,"like a bunch of High Country farmers," says Guy "who've been alone all winter and can't wait to catch up on each other's lives!" :)

Too right, mate!

OW!

The day after we came back from New Zealand was warm - ok, not very sunny - but warm. You've got to be grateful for that, right?

I can't express the intensity of joy I felt at revisiting all my beekeeping stuff. To be pulling on my suit again; digging out my hive tools; even lighting That Blasted Smoker. It was like a trip down Memory Lane, but better, because you know that now summer is really back and you have the whole summer of beekeeping to look forward to again.

Of course, the girls soon reminded me of the more sobering stuff. You know, like stings and all that. :)

I tromped down to the beehive and made ready ...

Now initially, my elaborate plan was to use this visit to make the shift from the brood-and-a-half configuration to the new 14x12 hive. But of course, the girls have been living in a double brood hive during the winter and the two moves.

And as I sat for a while, watching the bees while the smoker fired up, I thought to myself that perhaps it might be better to just make this an Intro Visit - go in there to establish exactly how the colony is doing before I fling them willy-nilly into another hive.

Because of course, the new hive will have no drawn foundation for the Queen to lay; it will have no saved stores. They will have to start again from the beginning. Well, almost. They'll need a couple of drawn frames filled with baby brood and honey stores. But most of the frames will be undrawn foundation.

This is all part of another, hidden agenda as well, you see. If I move them to undrawn foundation, they'll be kept busy. Very busy. Too busy to swarm. Cunning, eh?!

So as I watched the bees buzzing around the entrance I decided to keep this visit to the very basics. Just check they're ok, see if there's signs of Queen-rightness, check on feed levels, see how many frames of stores are left, and how many frames of brood might be starting up.

Then next time will be the crunch-time; the time to do the traumatic move over to 14x12.

I quietly smoked the hive and popped the lid off. The colony is still there, so Check One for the girls - they've survived the bitter winter. But the numbers are noticeably low. Of course it would be so.

Frames 10, 9, 8 and 7 had small quantities of honey stores remaining, in half-moon shapes across the top. Frame 6 had very early brood sign. Ever-so-tiny rice grain eggs. Not a lot, but there they were. Yahooooo! She is there, and She is laying. Long Live the Queen!

Next, Frame 5 - slightly older, fat white juicy larvae. And on the other side of Frame 4 - a small panel of sealed brood.

It was interesting to see how she'd spread out her laying across the three frames. Is that a bad sign? She is not a young Queen, after all. We shall see ...

OW! BUGGER!

First sting - right in the groin. Those little beggars.

Thankfully I was able to keep my movements slow and sure, and wipe off the sting. The next two got me in the same spot though, and I had to drop the frame I was looking at and walk away to bite the bullet. Not very dignified.

(Odd though it sounds, I am actually glad to be stung. It was really noticeable to me that the arthritis in my hands and feet flared up again in the winter, and I'm looking forward to getting relief from it by being stung. Bee venom really does seem to help suppress the symptoms. My hands are noticeably more supple and my knees and feet less achey. As for the hayfever, I still can't verify that honey and venom are helping.)

I went back to finish inspecting the top box; I thought about shifting the top box to inspect the bottom one but decided against it. I'd seen what I had to see and was happy.

I closed it all up, and spent time just sitting and looking at the entrance activity once more.

When I left the apiary I was as high as a kite; happy, happy, happy. Enchanted and relieved and pleased and proud.

I'm so looking forward to summer!