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.
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