Death by Klutz

Well really, I only wanted to feed them! It wasn't my fault - well, not all of it anyway (she whined, in a humiliated, nasal sort of tone). There I was, with me ice cream tub. And me kettle. Poured some refined white sugar in the tub, and then filled it up with lovely hot water, so the sugar would all dissolve nicely. Except I were a bit too keen, weren't I?! Couldn't wait till the water had cooled down proper, could I?!

Popped the lid on; turned it over on the tray, popped on all me beekeeper suit gear and brought the tray down to the bees. Like a butler, I were, buttling away ...

Popped the top off the hive and looked in on the busy, happy scene, where all the bees were zooting around, building up honey for the winter, Apiguard raising a merry stink of medicinal health in the hive.

I leaned over to pick up the filled ice cream tub. I brought it back over into the hive, just as the warmed-up tub began to buckle loosely in my scooped hands. Before I could do anything about it, an entire litre of sugar-water poured all over the inside of the hive. A waterfall of sweet sugary gloop enveloped everything in an instant, while I staggered around trying to hang on to the wibbly-wobbly tub. All I can say is, thank the gods I didn't fall forward into the hive, trying to stop the stupid thing from falling; I simply let it drop right out of my hands onto the frames.

When I looked back into the hive, several thousand rather stunned-looking bees appeared drenched, but ok. As I watched, some rather sticky little lasses tried to unstick legs from bodies, wings from legs, and feelers from eyes. For a moment, I could only stand there gasping in shock and horror.

NOW WHAT!?

I took a deep breath, cleared away the wonky (and empty) tub, made sure the Apiguard was still ok, and carefully put everything back as much as I could, including the lid of the hive. Sugar water poured onto the anti-varroa sticky-back-plastic board underneath, and dripped in torrents onto the ground. I yelled for Guy's help and managed to tape it all up with masking tape so that the sweetness wasn't dripping out of the hive, drawing all the sweetness-lusting robbing wasps and other creatures from all over the place.

I ran to fetch my head torch and crouched in front of the hive to check the status inside. Hordes of bees boiled across the mesh floor, clearly still reeling from sugar-shock, and all completely hyped by the sudden arrival of so much sweetness everywhere. They all seemed alive though, so I left them to it. I wiped as much as I could of the sweetness away from the outside of the hive and crept away, shamefaced and utterly traumatised.

Later the next day I came out to check on them again, and they all seemed fine. I pulled away the now-doubly-sticky sticky board and counted nearly 80 varroa mites - the Apiguard is clearly working well; and another one goes in tomorrow for another two weeks.

I also quietly tried my first "heft" - lifting the hive to feel the weight, to see if there's enough honey to last out the winter. Of course, it's a bit academic really, because I have absolutely nothing to compare it to. But it felt as heavy as hell. And I will feed the poor little lasses again soon; one last feed to get them fattened up for winter.

I really don't know how they've survived me this long. At this rate, the sanctuary of winter away from me is going to be a doddle for them.

*Shakes head* Will I ever, ever become less of a klutz!?

Doubtful!

Half-A-Bee

I went through to the Enfield Town Park Autumn Show this last weekend. It offered all the delights of the Country Show that I saw - and fell in love with - at the Hertfordshire Country Show earlier in the summer. And more, because I was able to participate this time. I was so happy to be able to lend a hand and volunteer, albeit briefly, at my Association's stand in the Horticultural Tent.

On Saturday, riven with awful hangovers from the night before, Guy and I wound our way through the Show, turning from one amazing sight to another - zorb balls holding children bouncing on the surface of the water through the gleaming transparent giant balls; sheep shearing demonstrations, giant bouncing castle jungles, strawberry-and-cream stands, beer bars, horses to stroke, donkey rides, and baby pigs.

Eventually we found The Flower Tent, and inside, among the gigantic zinnia, tomato and cake displays, we found Enfield Beekeepers tucked away in the warmest corner of the tent. It quite gave my heart a pang to see the rows and rows of honey in clear jars, some with prize ribbons on, all with names that I recognise. I took a quick glance at the Novice section, and saw that someone had a Third ribbon; oh how envious I am, and how keen I still am to submit my own honey next year!

Then on to helping to sell honey, and I stood awkwardly by as three of the ladies charmed their way through the honey sales. What was absolutely wonderful, however, was some of the idle chat that was had among the four of us, and other volunteers. I don't mean to sound self-serving, but I was so grateful to glean any bits of knowledge they could offer. And there was lots to be had ...

It appears I should already have treated my bees with Apiguard, regardless of the fact that Varroa mites have not shown up much on my Varroa-Sticky-Backed-Plastic Boards. It appears I should have been feeding my bees already. So much to do! And I haven't been doing any of it.

I rushed home that evening to check on my bees. I was more scared than I have ever been in any other inspection that I've done - why? Because the bees were VERY defensive! Loud humming, lots of buzzing around my head and face, lots and lots of bees everywhere - they really are on guard at the moment. Once again, there was no honey in the super, but they appear to be storing lots of honey in the brood box. Lots of cells appear black and emptied, and they are building up their stores, but I realise now - after chatting to the Beekeepers - not enough yet; never enough.

I've rushed off to buy lots more kilos of sugar, and tonight the bees will have a bumper feast of 2kg sugar to 1 litre of water - a rich mix was advised.

The next day, I spent time showing children how to roll beeswax candles, in between watching a sheep-shearing demo, a falconry display and a brilliant display of medieval chivalry and jousting by The Knights of the Damned. It was lovely also to spend time with Fred and the small nuc of bees in an observation frame where we spotted the Queen, who looked gorgeously fluffy. He and I both admitted to "falling in love with our Queens" which raised smiles all round.

The saddest thing I've seen this summer though came in the afternoon, at home in the garden. As I spoke on the phone with my mother in South Africa I spotted a bee on the lawn, clearly in some distress. My mother listened in some bemusement as I got down on my knees on the grass to check on the bee close up. It turned out to be half-a-bee, sting and abdomen gone, but still alive and clearly dying a horribly slow death. There's no harder thing to have to do than to put a living thing that you respect and admire out of its misery.

But there ... it was done, and the better for it.


Next year, I hope my honey will be here ...

Guy making his own beeswax candle

The amazing Flower Displays

Can you believe - Stripey Tomatoes?!

Almost too cute to be real!

Sheep-Shearing Show - to Guy's absolute delight!

Jousting!

Ooooh-la-la! The Black Knight

I spent some time yesterday reading my "Beekeeping Bible", and got a bit nervous, reading the bit that says bees are at their most tetchy at the end of August and beginning of September, when there are so many of them (around 50,000) and so much of their honey in store, making them aggressively protective as winter comes on.

I popped my head into the Super yesterday afternoon, when the bees were at their busiest. There is no honey in there, so I guess my devious ploy - sweetening the foundation - didn't work. I don't think there will be any honey at all now this year. I'm sad, I guess, but I've known all the way through this summer that this was the most likely scenario.

My mentors at my Beekeeping Association have been inspiring, and clearly hoping I'd have something to show at the Enfield Town Autumn Show - where we will have a Honey Competition. I don't mind; I really don't mind. It will be the first time I see what happens at a Honey Show and I'd much rather observe and learn, than rush in, in my usual bull-in-a-china-shop fashion. I'm also overdue to offer my volunteering services; and really keen to help with "manning the stand" so I can watch all the fun of the fair, see the horticultural tent, and participate in all the delightful pursuits of a local Town & Country Show. I love the thought! I really hope the buddies I've asked to come along will be there too ...

Once I'd seen the empty Super yesterday, I looked down at the hive and slowly processed my thoughts through the alternatives. The book had said it would be best to proceed in the evening, when all the bees are restfully tucked up in the hive. A suggestion was to move the one frame that the bees have ignored so far; mingling it further into the depths of the other frames to stimulate activity on it. Gazing down on the hive, I realised discretion would probably serve as the better part of valour; best to pack up and re-visit the hive in the evening. Of course, after the haze of the Festival, I fell asleep on the couch and missed that particular appointment!

When I go down to the hive this evening, I should consider doing the following things:

• Open up the Brood Box to see if they have enough space and have started using the unused Frame 1.
  
  
• If not, think about putting Frame 1 somewhere else in the Brood Box to encourage the bees to draw out the foundation and start loading it with winter supplies.
  
  
• If the Brood Box appears over-loaded, consider keeping the Super on and removing the Queen Excluder, so that they can go to Brood-and-a-Half. Although I'm wondering if it's already a bit too late in the season for that. Depends on how September looks - if it's warm, it may still not be too late for that.

The one thing I did manage to achieve yesterday, was to "Sticky-Up" another Varroa Inspection Board, and slide it into place under the hive. I am keen to see how resilient the bees are keeping ...