Things that I know about bees

On the 10th April my mother died.

I was halfway to Africa for her funeral when I suddenly remembered I'd left a Queen Excluder under the brood box.  It was only meant to be there a week; in the end it stayed there for three.

I inspected the hive again on Thursday 24th April and it didn't seem to have done them any harm.  In fact, they were flourishing.

It was a relief to come back to them and spend an intense and solitary half-hour inspecting the hive.  I saw no Queen Cells, no signs of swarming.  What I did see was a little scary - just brood from side to side, top to bottom, and no food.  Lots of pollen but pretty much no honey at all.  But they had drawn all the comb on all the new frames and that made me happy.

I stopped feeding them.  I removed the QX and closed up the box, and left them all to it.

* * *

I came back on Bank Holiday Monday the 5th of May.  I came loping down the garden with all my gear and peeked round the front and did a double-take, utterly astonished at the level of activity.  They were buzzing in hordes around the entrance.  Oh wow!

I worked my way carefully through the brood-and-a-half, much happier with the super below than above.  It really does work - a good piece of advice from the man at Thornes.  So much less comb gets broken, so much less traumatic for both me and the bees.

The greatest wonder of this visit was that - finally, FINALLY - I saw the Queen.  This was the first time I had ever seen Her.  She is absolutely enormous; Her abdomen is hugely wide and long, Her wings are tiny.  And She lays, and lays, and lays and lays.  She is prolifically busy.  And still - no sign of swarming.  It feels kind of ominous.

But the hive is utterly brimming.  I closed it up, blissfully happy, and went away.

* * *

After a first class in preparing for what will be my Practical Beekeeping Exam this summer, I came back to the hive on Sunday 11th May, determined to do everything the right way.  It was utterly useless.  I feel pressed to give up trying, and try for the Exam next year instead.

How DOES one go through an entire Hive Inspection with a Hive Tool in your hand?  I can't, I just can't.  It HAS to get put down sometimes, surely!?  How DOES one keep one's Beekeeping Suit whiter than white?!  Mine never is.  The knees are always grubby, from crawling around in front of the hive, taking pictures.  The cuffs are always full of propolis and the odd bit of bee poo.  How DOES one keep a Smoker lit?!  Mine is entirely useless at staying smoky.  In fact, other than briefly smoking my suit and gloves just prior to going in, I tend never to smoke the hive anymore.

Never mind, I think in my own glorious inimitably messy fashion, I love my bees and I love everything about beekeeping and I can quote bits of Ted Hooper's book verbatim, and I know all the flowers as they emerge through the season, in order from spring to autumn, and I know the lifecycle of a bee backwards, though I still haven't successfully done a Split by myself, and I've never sorted house bees in a bowl, though I've easily captured several dozen bees on my own in a matchbox.  I've never clipped a Queen's wing, but I've practiced marking on drones.   I can spot the tiniest trace of an egg, and I've watched bees being born.  I know a young bee from an old by the signs of worn fuzz on the thorax; I've seen bees scavenging last traces of honey from their dying half-sisters and I've seen a wasp cut a bee in half for its sweetness and I've seen bees crippled by disease and seen bees fight to the death with marauding wasps.  I can taste the subtle differences in a dozen different honies; I've seen spiders trap a bee.  I know what a Nasanov gland looks like and I've felt the leaping joy of hearing the deep HUMMM when I've knocked on the hive in the winter; and on hot summer nights at midnight I've gone down to see them when they're sitting out on their porch fanning air and making honey magic.  I've held a virgin Queen, born in my hand; I've swept swarms into boxes and I've seen a black Queen flying around Her own hive.

* * *

I went through the hive, and though I didn't see the Queen again, I saw lots of brood in all stages.  I remain concerned that space is at a premium, but I don't want to split unless I have to; I see no Queen Cells (3 Play Cells though), and the brood is evolving with enough space to spare, I hope.

I put a Honey Super on top.  It feels so early in the year!  It feels astonishingly wonderful.

* * *

I don't know if I'll be brave enough to do the Exam this year, but I do know I can feel the breath of my mother's smile on me as I open the hive and look down on the brood; and she is with me in the  late afternoon sun as it lights up the honeycomb and the sharp light burns tears in my eyes.   Last year I asked her to think of a name for the hive, and she told me to call it "Utopia".  The Queen, she said, should be called the Alpha Queen.

When I went home for the funeral, Jane told me that mom was inordinately proud of being asked to name the colony, and she took a great deal of trouble to research her dictionary and thesaurus, to find the right name.

This I do know: it is the right name, Ma, it is the right name.

Mysterious Queen

My bees have travelled so many miles in the last year; too many miles.  I worry about them.  When they first came to me we were based in Slough.  They were so good; calm, busy and happy.

When we moved to Ickenham I couldn't take them with me into my garden.  It was a hard loss.  I missed them then and I miss them still.  For me, part of the great joy of keeping bees has always been to walk down the garden path with my early morning cup of coffee, and sit with them for a while.  I watch them on their way, I see the interactions at their guarded front doorway.  I can throw my head back and watch them go into the wide blue sky, circling up into the trees and clouds and great big world.

But now I had to move them away.  They travelled the M25 with me, north to Cheshunt, where - for a year - Paula and Rod helped guard them for me.  I hope they found the everyday joy I always did.

Now I have moved them again; closer to where I live.  I simply couldn't sustain the weekly round trip of 60 miles to do my duty by the livestock.  I had to bring them closer to home.  So they have come down again, around the M25.  Now they live where I work.  Part of that is a new joy - the opportunity to spend my lunchtimes at the hive.  We have a new home and I hope I don't have to move them again in a long, long time.

I have never seen this Queen.  She is elusive.  I can never find Her.  But She is a hard worker; She lays like a fiend - except for when the hive is moved.  Last year, in Cheshunt, She didn't lay for the first few weeks they were there.  So now I am expecting Her to do the same.

When I opened the hive for the first time on Monday, I knew what I would see - I had left something of a shameful mess of frames and dummy boards in the main brood box over winter.  Some of the frames the bees just didn't like.  So the brood box was half empty; part old dark frames, part nothing.  The half on top was full; busy, buzzing and messed with frames too full of pollen and honey.  Some brood - but not much and no eggs that I could see.  And still no sight of the Queen ....

I had an awesome experience last week with the Beekeepers.  They showed me how they did Shook Swarms on all their hives - or at least as many as conditions allowed.  I was shocked - so early in the season, so vulnerable did it make the hives, yet they are convinced it makes for healthy, disease-free hives.  So I knew what had to be done with mine, except that I am a coward.  I hate the thought of removing so much rich, healthy brood from the hive in exchange for fresh, unworked foundation.  So I only did half.  More fool me perhaps, but it is what it is.

On Friday I made up a set of new foundation on new frames, and lugged them all down to the hive - it's a long walk, perhaps too long - we shall see.

Oh, those bees are lovely.  I had a wondrous half-hour with them.  They buzzed calmly around me, sat upon me, did what bees do.  I set up a new floor.  I put down a Queen Excluder (to keep Her inside in case She wanted to abscond for the temporary lack of honeycomb to lay in).  I opened the roof, removed the feed, removed the crownboard.  I shook off 4 frames of the top half, and placed new in.  Then I moved the half onto the new floor (I'd heard from The Man at the Bee Shop that works better for brood-and-a-half - we shall see).

Next I tackled the brood box.  Oh, I hope I didn't kill the Queen!  I replaced six frames with fresh and made it all look nice and better again in there.  I feel less guilty about that now ...

With everything refreshed - not a true Shook Swarm  - but new frames for them to work and a freshened up feel to the hive, I gave them feed and sealed it all up, and moved it all into position.  I looked into the front door and saw the QX drooping a bit.  "Oh dear," I thought, "She might escape through there."

I looked around for a solution - aha!  Two little sticks to stand up in the entrance - holding up the QX.  Except I'd removed my gloves.  "Oh well," I thought, "I'll risk it".  And with bare hands I delved into the hive and wedged the sticks into position.

Two bees came pinging out at me and I stepped back cautiously.  But no stings.  Oh, how I love these bees!

I took the old frames home and yesterday, spent a fun half hour going through the honeycomb with a magnifying glass and a torch.  And look what I found (see photo below).  Brand new baby brood. 

Oh, Mysterious Queen, thou art fine and wondrous indeed!

A Gift of Honey

Quite the most amazing gift I think I've ever been given. My dear friend, Bonita, sent me honey from Saudi. 

But even more special - a hand written letter telling me of a special moment - an experience to be shared across the miles. 

I love you, Bons, thank you so much!