When I'm away at work ...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjRGG9JGqzI

Hunger

I missed them too much.  I just missed them.  So I went and did something I could well regret later.  I paid money for them.  I don't mind the money; even though I couldn't really afford it.  And in truth, I didn't spend actual money, I used credit - which of course, in this day and age, is probably so much worse.

Never mind.  I find it astonishing how having bees back in our garden has lifted my mood.  The garden feels complete again.  A proper garden.  I spend time in it.  I harvest raspberries for jam.  I walk the length of it every evening just to sit for a while, watching their activity at the hive entrance.  There can be no more wonderful spiritual "food" than this - this retreat from the world; this still and solitary meditation on all things earthly and magical.

Lying under the entrance looking up at the hive

So now I will write down all the things I have been recording on my BeeBase online Hive Inspection Records.  I use them faithfully, but I'm finding the structure of it restrictive and limiting.

I brought the bees in on Saturday 9 June.  I did spend a moment wondering if I should use the 14x12 size hive, but I didn't - I went with the standard National.  (Now I am seriously regretting my decision, but more on that later).  I transferred 6 frames (six whole frames, I marvelled) from the nuc box to the National Brood box.  This, just at the very moment the bees literally chewed their way through the edges of the mesh hole in the nuc and started escaping.  I was really astonished; how the hell do they do it!?

The frames were rich with bees and brood (BIAS - brood in all stages - ie rice-grain just-laid eggs, 3-day plump and juicy fat larvae, capped-over brood pupating) but shockingly low on honey and pollen stores.  In fact there was none.  I did not see the Queen, but Queen-sign was all good, so I transferred everything over, placed a pint of feed above the crownboard hole, and left well alone for a week.  All signs at the entrance were good all week, with bees finding their entrance and full pollen baskets coming in all week.  I laughed to see that, once again, the bees have chosen a flight path exactly opposite to my own desires.  Typical contrary creatures!

One other thing I noticed - these bees were very, very calm.  Regardless of the fact that they'd just been confined in a small box for at least 2 days, on a truck travelling hundreds of miles (and very nearly confiscated by the coppers - what is this Special Relationship my bees always seem to have with the Old Bill!?), they were incredibly docile.  I was very impressed.  And relieved.

On Sunday 17 June, overcast but a warm 18 degrees, I opened the box and checked the hive.  They have been working hard to draw out the foundation on the 5 new frames I added to their original drawn 6.  In 7 days, they've drawn 6 more sides.  So we're up to 9 full frames now.  This Queen lays brood from side to side, edge to edge, up and down.  There is no food anywhere.  And the bees look hungry - heads down in comb, bums up.  Hungry.

So for the next 7 days I put a pint of feed out - every single day.  And they sucked up every last drop. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it possible.

I had noticed, when the bees originally went into the box the week before, that they were "chaining" a lot.  Great loops of bees hanging together in delicate jewellery fashion, they clung together in the classic sign of wanting to sweat wax and mould honeycomb together.  So the sugar water mixture has been feeding to that need; the more feed, the more they've made comb.

And there was comb everywhere. They'd propolised the crownboard down - solidly.  They'd made wax above the crownboard through the spare hole, wild comb inside the crownboard, and - most startling to a new beekeeper - wild comb on the bottom of the National frames inside a National box.  Now these measurements are critical.  Surely if they're making honeycomb below the frames, there's no Bee Space left down there to work below?  What the hell are they doing?

Some imperative seems to be in operation; my impression is that these bees work with "top space", where before I've always worked with "bottom space" and all my boxes are geared to "bottom space".  How does that work?  These bees must represent generations that have been worked in the same fashion, over and over again, perhaps by a single beekeeper.  How intriguing.

So I checked each frame and the Queen is still laying like a trouper.  Edge to edge, side to side, top to bottom, with no space for food - most worrying!  There is BIAS but no Queen, but that's alright, I know she's there.

Ghost Bee - Nasanov Gland showing

I did something new today - I shook sugar all over the bees.  I didn't have the recommended icing sugar, so I used castor sugar.  A little cloud of white descended through the sieve over the bees, leaving a host of ghost-like creatures looking a wee bit disconcerted.  It was so beautiful to see!  This tactic is the new fashionable way to encourage bees to "groom" each other for the sweet sugar, thus dislodging the horrible varroa mites, which fall off, through the open mesh floor onto the ground, never to climb back up into the hive again, one hopes.

I took photos of the "ghost" bees, the whiteness clearly showing the Nasanov Gland working - that little gland on their bottoms that splits open to emanate a scented pheromone that communicates with other bees .... "come here, gather together girls, there is a threat, or a need to group .... something's up!"

I came again, this disruptive beekeeper, on Saturday 23 June.  Trustingly I wore only thin dishwashing gloves this time - these bees have been wonderfully good-natured all the time.  Naturally this time I got my first sting - but not on my hands.  It happened when I leaned forward and a bee got caught in the crease of my trousers, in my groin.  Not her fault, poor lass, she got pressed in and frightened, she stung me.  I hardly felt it through the fabric and was able to carry on regardless.  While one part of me mourned the unnecessary death of a single bee, another part rejoiced at the fact that I could take the hurt, and in knowing that it will help allay the arthritis pains I feel more often these days. 

This time, I saw the Queen.  What a moment!  She came rushing across the surface of the honeycomb.  She was not easy to spot because She was really fast, and She is not that big.  And She is lean - very lean.  But there She is, and She lays and lays and lays and does not stop laying.  There is BIAS everywhere, and NO FOOD.  They've filled up 10 of the 11 frames.  What's the matter with this lot!?  I thought bees were supposed to be the sensible ones.

See my new Alpha Queen?

I've decided not to feed them anymore.  I'm just encouraging them not to make and stockpile food, clearly.

Let's see what they do with that ...

A week later I came back (Saturday 30 June) and took the top off and - while removing the empty feeder - got stung twice.  So that's their opinion of me not feeding them.  I see.

They've filled up every frame with brood.  At last there is one (ONE) frame of honey.  I removed the dummy board and squeeeeeeeezed in a 12th frame of foundation.  Also I had a Super filled with old, battered and broken drawn comb on 10 Super frames.  I placed that on top, and had to remember to do it the right way round. 

This colony came with the frames stacked the "Cold Way" instead of the way I've always worked on the "Warm Way" with one frame parallel to the length of the entrance and thus covering all the others from the wind, thus keeping the hive "warm".  When I put the Super on, I suddenly thought "oops, not parallel to the entrance, Margo, right angles!"

A week later (on Saturday 7 July) I checked again and the girls had worked long and hard to rebuild the damaged honeycomb in the Super.  They had done a beautiful job.  All the comb is empty and I worried a bit because of course, the cells are large ones meant for Drones.  This Queen lays quite a significant percentage of Drone cells.  I would worry more if She laid no Worker Cells, but She does so I will not worry too much just yet.

I fed only once or twice through the week. 

When I lifted the Super off the Brood Box, I came face to face once more with the reason I hate the "Brood and a Half" configuration.  Inspecting over 20 frames makes them grumpy.  It would make me grumpy too.  It takes ages, it is very traumatic breaking comb everywhere, and it is risky.  When removing the Super who knows where that leaves the Queen!?  I don't like it, and I wish I hadn't done it this way.

The temptation is to transfer them into a 14 x 12 and make them work to start it all up again.  While this colony's work ethic is unbelievably powerful I'm loathe to take the risk.  Already it is late in the summer, and the weather has been shockingly poor.  This means that together we - me and the bees - must focus all our efforts on building their strength, reserves and infrastructure to survive the winter.  No setbacks allowed.

In the Super, on the restored comb, I spotted a Queen Cell.  But it was only a "Play Cup" - practice.  And there was nothing in it.  So I left it.

I came back to the hive last Sunday.  I removed the 12th Brood frame, filled with capped honey on one side, and replaced the Dummy Board.  Why did I do that?  Well, part of me doesn't want to squeeze and jolt my way into the hive, breaking out that extra-tight 12th frame every time. Another part is keen to taste the honey endeavours.  And yet another wants to force them up into the Super, fixing the comb and encouraging the Queen upstairs to lay.

I didn't need to worry though.  She has laid across all Super frames.  I gasped when I pulled out the 3rd frame - it was filled with Drone comb.  I don't like it. Why so much Drone comb this late in the year?  A concern.  Yet everywhere else there is Worker brood and, as I checked a large frame in the bottom Brood Box, I saw an entire frame emptied of babies and one or two bees being born.  There is nothing so magical as watching a little baby bee nibbling its way out of the capped cell and emerging, fluffy and staggering a little inelegantly into the world. 

Welcome, little bee!

There are thousands upon thousands of bees now.  I work my way somewhat nervously through clouds of agitated bees.  Still, they do not sting me.  21 frames are checked.  No Queen, but lots of Queen-sign.  No Queen Cells.  A little more honey is stored.  All appears to be righting itself.

So this time, I go back to the house and I open up my cupboard and I take out the new foundation.  It is Super foundation, and it is unwired.  I want to try making honey on the comb this time.  So I make up a new Super of 10 frames of this fragile new foundation, and I carry it down carefully to the bottom of the garden.

I gently slide on the plastic Queen Excluder and place the Honey Super above it.  Will the Queen be thin enough to squeeze up there?  Oh Lord, I hope not!

And because the bees have work to do and wax to make and honey to store, I feed them some more.

They're hungry.  Like me.