The Bee Carol

by Carol Ann Duffy

Silently on Christmas Eve,
the turn of midnight's key;
all the garden locked in ice -
a silver frieze -
except the winter cluster of the bees.

Flightless now and shivering,
around their Queen they cling;
every bee a gift of heat;
she will not freeze
within the winter cluster of the bees.

Bring me for my Christmas gift
a single golden jar;
let me taste the sweetness there,
but honey leave
to feed the winter cluster of the bees.

Come with me on Christmas Eve
to see the silent hive -
trembling stars cloistered above -
and then believe,
bless the winter cluster of the bees.


* * *

Bless you too, Poet Laureate, that brought a tear to my eye!

* * *

















Merry Christmas, bees!

Full Circle in the Sun

In the time since I last wrote, I have split the hives again on the faint chance that a new Queen survived in Itchy Knee. Weeks later, I checked again on Monday and realised that all chance of a Queen was gone.

Not only that, in my eagerness to protect them after a recent very heavy display of varroa, brought about by the lack of Queen to encourage them to groom each other, I poisoned them with Apiguard medicine. I looked in on Monday and there were hundreds of dead and dying bees. I had placed the Apiguard in a too-small space and simply gassed them to death. Very terrible. I took a video of the action of a dying bee to post on a beekeeping forum in the hope that someone more experienced might recognise what was happening and confirm my suspicion about poisoning, and they did.

* * *

Today was a tough day for me. Work started at 4am; and it was the kind of work that bruises the soul - the hard part of my job. But it was a pleasure to be able to leave early and get home at lunch time. I got straight into a beesuit and headed down to the hives, intent on making right what I've been doing wrong all these last few weeks.

When I finally broke down Itchy Knee's configuration I saw that they had moved all the honey from the bottom super into the brood box, just as Ron had said they would. They moved it all so quickly! That said, I'll never do it again - putting a super at the bottom. I'm hoping that by moving to the bigger 14x12 brood box next year I will only ever need supers for the honey crop.

As I worked through the frames in the brood box, it was very clear there was still no Queen. And so - I just knew - this time it would be absolutely the right thing to do to unite the hives - Itchy Knee into San-Shi.

Itchy Knee is weak, but has a lot of honey stores. San-Shi is strong and Queen-right, but has no stores to survive the winter.

So I carefully opened up San-Shi, removed the feed arrangement at the top, and placed a sheet of newspaper down again on the brood box. I heaved Itchy Knee's brood box across (it weighs an absolute ton from all that honey) and placed it ever so carefully, ever so gently on top.

Then placed two packs of candy fondant in an eke/super on top and closed it all up.

It all felt good and right and proper this time, not frantic and fearful and confused like the last few times I've dropped in.

And all the time I worked with the bees today, they were incredibly pleasant and good-natured. Sure, they buzzed about and checked me out, and expressed their grouchiness at being moved about with a few loud buzzes, but in the main they were a joy to be around.

What saddens me is to witness the terrible ongoing War against the Wasps - carnivores, killers, raiders, pirates. I even managed to stomp on a few this time.

On a completely different note, I saw that the perspex crownboard had accumulated a corner of condensation inside it. I will watch that, and change it to a wooden crown board, I think.

That will be one of the last things I do as I bed them down for winter. Insulation is a subject of ongoing interest and research. Wonder what I'll find to use this year?

After my visit today, I sat for a long, long time and just watched the bees, surrounded myself with bees. I watched as gradually the few remaining foragers at the base of the old Itchy Knee site slowly moved across to San-Shi. I watched some wrestling matches between wasps and bees. And I gloried in the blue sky afternoon sun; so rare! I miss it so much. When did I ever think the South African big blue sky was too big and too blue, and the sun too hot? Was I mad!?

Chatting to my housemate tonight, I found myself caught up in a passionate, articulate explanation of how Queen bees are made and how bees are one of the few creatures in nature who - collectively - choose the sex of their children. I could see the wonder in my housemate, and it brought the magic all rushing back.

It has been such a hard year with the bees; it has felt like just another job, just another chore.

But not today.

Don't worry, bee happy

Alright, alright, I'm cheering up. Calm down everyone!

Feeling Bad

I've found myself avoiding this blog in the past couple of days; I don't want to face it; I don't want to face myself. I'm ashamed of myself. How have a bunch of little creatures brought me this low, I ask myself. I swing wildly between despair and mortification and self-deprecating humour. How can I take any of this too seriously? After all, the bees don't care about my blog!

It really does feel as if they sometimes stare me down and find me wanting.

And in this case, I ought be ashamed of myself, I really do.

Let me explain.

On 1 August, after a wild summer of being chased down the garden by a bunch of bees, I finally gathered up some friends and mentors, and together we hunted down and killed the Queen of Itchy Knee. You remember that part, right?

The intention was then to leave the bees to make a new Queen in the hope that the new one would be of a gentler disposition. This in turn would make her 50,000-strong hive gentler too. Less running down the garden path and cowering behind hedges for me.

So for the next 7 weeks I spent a fair old amount of time sharpening my pencil and doing calculations on a regular basis, trying to work out how long it would take to birth a Queen, get her mated and get her laying some new brood as proof for me to find on my next Hive inspection.

7 weeks later, and several despairing checks inside the hive, I was convinced - absolutely convinced - that if there WAS a Queen, it had become too late in the season to get her mated. I was convinced there was no successfully-mated Queen.

So I had been screwing up my courage, all my resolve, to go for a Uniting of the 2 Hives - Itchy Knee and San-Shi. This would help make the one hive stronger to survive through the coming winter. Before I went in to do the job, I reminded myself and reminded myself "don't forget to inspect properly for any brood."

Don't forget, Margo. Don't forget!

What did I do? On Saturday, I did a cursory inspection of a few frames inside Itchy Knee; found them broodless. And went and did the Uniting. Apart from the stupidity of not putting a Queen Excluder between the two, so I could locate the new Grand United Queen, I didn't do a proper check of ALL the frames.

So last night I did the follow-up call; in which you're supposed to check that the Unite has been successful, locate Queen-sign (ie brood) if not the Queen herself, and select the best frames to start reducing the size of the Double Brood Box Hive to a single, or a Brood-and-a-Half. Except that, when I went through the frames, I found mature brood. In both brood boxes. This means both Queens had laid brood, each in Her own hive, 10 days earlier.

There WAS a Queen - a new successfully-mated Queen in Itchy Knee. I just didn't spot her - or her early brood - on that cursory inspection on Saturday. If I had, I would never have united. Now, of course, one of the two Queens is dead. Long live the Grand United Queen - whichever one survived the fight to the death between the two that has inevitably taken place in the last couple of days.

I hate myself sometimes. Oh, I know I shouldn't beat myself up. I know I'm only a learner beekeeper. I know I'm doing a lot of this stuff by fumbling through on my own. I know lots of better beekeepers than me make the same mistakes.

But OH! I should've known better!

Allow me to feel bad today. I'm sure I'll recover my equilibrium soon, but today - today, just let me feel bad for a bit.

Buggeration, this beekeeping lark is hard!

Old Bee Bore

I creep down to the hives every night now. In the gathering dark I watch and I wonder. I see Itchy Knee bringing in pollen; I see San-Shi flying all around the houses the wrong way round to get into their entrance as it gradually moves across the apiary, closer and closer to the other hive.

I am still moving the hive, but I keep believing that Itchy Knee will deliver a Queen; all those little hints keep me hoping against hope that they have a Queen.

• That torn-down Queen cell
• They're bringing in pollen

But more than anything, it's just a sense that they have continued so steady, so consistent, looking Queen-right all the time. They fly in, they fly out, they do their duty, they hold the fort, nothing deflects them from the ultimate objective: preparation for the winter.

The evenings are beginning to draw in; the garden is looking wild and woolly. Guy's tomato crop has come in; rich and ripe and ready. Everything is overgrown and fruiting; peaking in those few contained weeks before true autumn sets in.

I must; I simply must know the truth about Itchy Knee this weekend. I'm praying for good Hive Inspection weather. If there is no brood now it will finally, finally be time to unite them for the winter.

Well, that said, I will wait for the end of the Apiguard medication - mid October - before I tackle it.

I find myself reverting back to bee-strategising on the Tube again when I commute.

Now, do I clear Itchy Knee's super first? So that's 2 days with the crownboard and porter escapes in. Or do I do the same to San-Shi as well? Do I even have two crownboards and four porter escapes!?

Then what do I do?

Perhaps I just clear San-Shi's and .... no, wait, I'll clear Itchy Knee's, then lift that box across to the top of San-Shi.

But what about those guys who reckon the stronger hive goes on top? I don't wanna do that - every instinct rebels. Why move the strong hive and risk the Queen?! Doesn't make sense ...

Blah, blah, blah. I'm turning into an Old Bee Bore, I really am ...

Joy Unconfined

I think my dad (the old codger) would've been pleased.

Edited to add: further joy in reporting my first sting-free inspection since May. I went in this morning - just to prove to myself I'm still an ok beekeeper :)

San-shi - bless them - were absolute pussycats. They barely moved around as I looked through and found a happy, functional, end-of-summer, Queen-right hive. I do worry though that their Super honey stores appear low and I wonder if they've been robbed blind by wasps, which may also have left them lacklustre and spent of energy. It's so hard to tell with bees ...

Itchy Knee - sadly - still has no Queen although, mysteriously, a torn down Queen Cell has appeared on Frame 7. They were furious, but - if they stung me at all - their stings did not make it through. Their varroa count was in the thousands, while San-Shi had only 160. Indications of better health? I do wish bees could talk ...

So I have moved San-Shi by One Yard, closer to Itchy Knee. Day by day over the next week I'll move it so that it's closer to Itchy Knee, with entrances aligned so that, if all goes to plan, I can unite the colonies and make them strong to go through winter.

I do wonder if it's wise though, to unite the grumpy ones with the peaceful ones. If only bees could talk .... lol!

The Marvellous Mustard Miracle Morph

This season has a special kind of mystical wizardry and magic about it; the alchemy of the harvest. After all, you might ask - what's mustard got to do with honey?

Well, see, let me explain. First there was the Finchley Farmers' Market. I hadn't planned to sell my honey at the market this month - I just wasn't organised enough. But on the Friday before, I got a call from the Farmers team, begging me to come and sell my local honey. Apparently the punters have been crying out for the stuff. How could I resist!?

So I committed myself to a stall, put the phone down and promptly panicked. "What've I done?! I don't have enough honey! It's all in big bottles - no time to get any little bottles! With labels and everything. Oh no! This is hopeless! What am I going to do!? GU-UU-Y, HEEEELP!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Which left Himself looking a little like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Nevertheless he stepped gamely up to the plate and went looking for little jars. No luck.

This called for a Special Emergency Plan. On Friday night Guy and I went to the Super-Large-Tesco round the corner, found a trolley and went shopping - for empty jars. Of course we didn't find any. BUT! A-HA! What we did find, folks, was 48p mustard. In the perfect jar. So we bought 'em.

Lots of 'em. Forty of 'em, to be precise.

Then we went home and emptied the mustard out of the jars and washed, cleaned and sterilised the jars. Put honey in 'em. And, by jove, we sold the lot :)

I call this the Marvellous Mustard Miracle Morph.

Although admittedly it did leave piles of mustard lying around all over every kitchen surface, looking a bit like Lakes of Poo, much to the bemusement and subsequent hilarity of fellow flatmates). We are all In the Mustard for weeks to come. We shall be having Mustard Evenings for Many a Month. Expect an invite shortly ....

The Three Stages of the Marvellous Mustard Miracle Morph:

I had also gone out to John Lewis and bought a whirlwind of display stuff. Of course, this blew the budget completely. Well, almost. Guy was fabulous; really entered into the Spirit of the Thing by doing a whole Excel spreadsheet to calculate:

• the cost of the mustard jars plus
  
• the cost of the John Lewis display stuff and
  
• the cost of the stall

against

the price per half-pound jar of honey

and after selling 38 of my entire stock of 59 jars, we made A Grand Total of £153.89 !

All in all we had heaps of fun and the picture above shows the Best Bit Of All - the moment when I introduced this little lass to her first ever taste of honey - her face was a picture to behold. Bless!

(I get by with a little help from my friends)

* * *

Last weekend I had the joy of spending time at the Enfield Steam and Country Show, which was so quintessentially British, it was a blast. In a small field in the middle of nowhere, some mad-keen car and traction engine enthusiasts decided to erect some tents,and an agricultural main arena for dog agility displays and stuff. And everyone parked their vintage cars in rows down the hillside and set up their camping tables and chairs and had tea and picnics in between the rows of cars through howling gales and blustery rain showers.

And we all had an incredibly Grand Day Out, in the great tradition of Wallace and Gromit. My friend Sarah and her dog Sparkle (nutty as a fruitcake and twice as endearing) participated in the Agility Show and in the Prettiest Bitch (stop laughing!) And they actually won some Rosettes, which says something, only I'm not quite sure what. And my friend MissP turned up looking every inch the Glamorous Gypsy Fortune Teller. Her man Rod found a pair of brand-new thigh-high stilleto black leather boots in the Car Boot Sale. So everyone was happy.

And that's about all I'm going to say about that!

* * *

But of course, more importantly, we have coming up, the competition that everyone's been waiting for: The Enfield Town Park Autumn Country Show - with the long-awaited (at least by me, anyway) Honey Competition!

I'm so excited I could POP! My entries were submitted earlier this evening, and the judging will happen in the Horticultural Tent on Saturday morning. They let the public in at 1.30 and I plan to be first in, straining at the leash, of course. Wish me luck :)

* * *

Last but not least, on a no-less manic but far more sobering note, let me not forget to tell you about the bees, ladies and gents, lest you think that in all the excitement of the Honey Harvest Season, we'd have forgotten all about them. We have not ...

Two weeks ago, I placed the autumn anti-varroa medication into the hives and gradually as September set in, the merry medicinal stench of Apiguard has permeated the apiary. On Sunday afternoon, I ventured into Itchy Knee, dying to know if they had managed to solve the problem of the Queen Replacement.

I was so sure, so sure they would solve it. These bees have been so strong; so resilient. But on going through the frames, there was nothing to see - only adult foraging bees, honey stores - and frame after frame of .... nothing. No capped brood, no fat white larvae, no tiny rice-grain eggs. No Queen.

I feel quite devastated. Time and again, I go back and ponder why I was so convinced we had to kill the Gangster Queen. Shouldn't we have waited some more, even more? Why, why, why!? Too late now! I closed up the hive (after the obligatory sting through three layers onto the arm) and went away to think.

The obvious solution seems to unite the hive with San-Shi, so that two hives become one again under a single strong Queen and thus with a stronger chance for survival through the winter. It's too late now to try and move a frame of brood across from San-Shi to Itchy Knee. There simply are not enough drones left to wait another 17 - 21 days for yet another, even fainter, chance of a new Virgin Queen, who must still then be mated before winter. Not enough time left at all.

But it's a few days later and I'm still thinking about it, and a seed that was placed in my mind this last weekend by a mentor is lurking. Perhaps they have made a Queen, and she has only just mated, and perhaps in a day or two, eggs?

After all; this was the timeline

• Day 0: 1st August - Queen killed
• Day 1 - approx 7: Time needed for bees to realise their Queen is dead
• Day 3 (approx) - 17: Time needed to utilise 3-day old egg to be transformed into a Queen
• Day 18: A new Virgin Queen hatches (but I saw no trace of a hatched QC - Queen Cell)
• Day 19 - approx 25: Virgin Queen travels on Mating Flights
• Day 26 - 31: Rice grain eggs are laid.

Perhaps, perhaps, just perhaps, I was just a day or two too early to pick up on signs of a newly-mated Queen. So, I need to inspect again on Saturday. And on the same day, I will inspect San-Shi as well, to follow up on the 2-week medical treatment and begin the next 4-week medication process. If I see no trace of Queen then, it will be time to unite the two hives. Which will be a major new experience for me. I am nervous, but intrigued to see if I can do it; how I will cope, and whether it will work in the long run.

The bees continue to attract the strangest creatures to my garden; predators, aliens, invaders, curiousities. These are Hover Flies, who are created to mimic the bees in look. They quite shook me up.

(Hover fly: Volucella zonaria)

But then, reading over this blog, it seems the bees have shaken up every aspect of my life, from mustard into honey, so that everything is magically altered and nothing is quite as it was before.