Tag: inadequacy

BBKA News: Melissophobia – Fear Of Bees

Melissophobia (or Apiphobia) – Fear Of Bees

This article was first published in the newsletter of The British Beekeepers’ Association (No. 222 – April 2015).

I feel I need to come clean.  I have mixed emotions when inspecting bees, alternating between delight and wonder, to slightly nervous and occasional panic.

Melissophobia is an unreasonable fear of bees.  Surely, there should be a word for a reasonable fear?  With a particularly aggressive colony, my fear seems reasonable. Those little buzzing things sting.

Having a fear of bees is somewhat unfortunate for a beekeeper but it must be quite common. Surely most beekeepers heart beat increases when they hear the roar of 60,000 bees – especially if you have kamikaze bees.  Not all beekeepers can be the type that are happy to inspect their bees with little more than cotton wool in their nose and ears. Surely some, like me, are what they call metrosexuals (i.e. men who have been known to run away from spiders).

Fatalities due to honeybees are rare.  In October last year it was reported that a beekeeper in the UK (with known anaphylaxis) died of a honeybee sting and the article I read quoted an Office of National Statistics official that a man last died of a bee sting in 2012 in the UK. There seems to be a higher proportion of deaths attributable to bee stings in the USA, where in 2000, the World Health Organisation reported that, there were 54 deaths attributable to bee stings (from a population of 281 million people and where 90 people/year die of lightning strikes). Perhaps, this is due to an increased prevalence of Africanised bee.  So with these low rates of fatality it is apparent that my fear is not rational. I know that probably the worst I’ll get is some painful stings, a swollen leg and a lack of sympathy from my wife – but still, when you’re faced with a hive, it’s not just a bee you’re contending with, it’s thousands of them. Yes I know that the average adult can safely survive a thousand stings, but what if they ALL get me?!?

Facing The Fear

Of course the recommended treatment for phobias is to face your fear, something I will be doing quite a lot over the coming months, with the first inspection of the hives imminent.

This year though I’m going in prepared with my apiary armoury.

In my early days I had some lovely bees and thought that smoke was an unnecessary accessory. As the bees created stores and had something to defend I became a smoker.  I now have a bucket-sized smoker. I am resigned to being the Dot Cotton of beekeepers.

Smoking Hive
Smoking Like Dot Cotton

Clothes-wise, I have learnt that trainers with socks over jeans does not provide much protection especially when you stand in front of the hive entrance.  I have discovered that bees don’t sleep and that feeding at night does not mean that the bees won’t fly/pour out of the hive.

bee sting reaction
Bee Sting Reaction

I currently find myself with a particularly aggressive colony*. When I remove the crown board the bees surge upwards and pour out of the hive like a scene from my worst nightmare. They attack every weak spot.  Down my boots.  Through gloves.  They even sting the tips of my ears where they touch the suit.

I now wear marigolds under my regular gloves.  I tape up my boots. I wear thick shirts and jeans under my bee suit. I wash my gloves and clothes regularly to reduce any sting pheromones that might linger and that would initiate more attacks.  I have all the rumoured remedies on hand (onions, toothpaste, lemons and half the contents of Boots). Any pretence of me being a brave-beekeeper is well and truly annihilated.

When I do an inspection, of this aggressive hive, I’m in and out and do the minimum required. I have decided they are impossible to inspect after June.

My Skin Breaks Out In, Err, Hives!

Usually I go through the normal cycle of pain, swelling, itching and very tired for a few days if I’ve been stung by upwards of ten bees, but one time due to a combination of being stung and high anxiety – my skin broke out in, er, hives. It was so bad even my wife was sympathetic. This is all somewhat ironic considering I started beekeeping as a way to de-stress.

The solution is obviously to get some nicer bees. Ones that like their beekeeper and welcome a yearly raid of everything they’ve spent their little lives working towards.

My plan is to requeen as soon as possible this year (June) and an old boy has offered to come and jointly inspect the colony in April and perhaps requeen with some of his more gentle Queens.  I think he thinks I am either doing something terrible to the bees rather than me having a particularly aggressive colony.  Either way – it will be fantastic to see an experienced beekeeper working with this colony and see if he is able to charm them.

Advice

It’s always good to know how other beekeepers handle their hives. Have you found any impenetrable material to protect us from stings? How do you make your inspections less risky? If nothing else, how do you illicit more sympathy from your other halves when you do get stung? Do let me know if you have any ideas.

* When I wrote this article for BBKA News I did have an aggressive colony, but unfortunately I lost  it at the end of February (Post: Colony Post-Mortem).

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Colony Post-Mortem

Colony Post-Mortem – First 2015 Winter Loss

Post-mortem: An examination of a corpse in order to determine cause of death.

I need your help with the determination. There are comments and photos below and a video at the end.

Beekeeper Inspecting Dead BeesBeekeeper Inspecting Dead Bees
Me Inspecting Dead Bees

Was It A Weak Colony Going Into Winter?

No. This hive had 11 frames of bees in September and there were live bees in the hive over Christmas. That said, there only appeared to be about 500 dead bees in the hive (see photo above). Had the others absconded or died over the winter and been removed from hive by the live bees?

Was It Starvation?

I don’t think so. The frames were heavy with stores and I don’t think the bees could have been isolated.  A few bees had died head first in the comb – but very few.

14x12 Frame Of Stores
14×12 Frame Of Stores
Sugar Stored In Comb
Sugar Stored In Comb
Pollen In Frame. Is that white pollen on the left or sugar stores?
Pollen In Frame. Is that white pollen on the left or sugar stores?

Was It Disease?

I don’t think so. There is mould in the frames (see photo below) but no chalk dummies. There was no foul smell.

Mouldy Frame - But Not Chalk Dummies
Mouldy Frame – But Not Chalk Dummies
Frame With Pollen (& Sugar Stores?) On Left; Mouldy In Centre
Frame With Pollen (& Sugar Stores?) On Left; Mouldy In Centre

Was It Varroa?

Maybe. Despite a (low/middle) varroa count of 130 in mid-July (I counted 30 mites over 9 days in July and put this into the NBU calculator which estimated I had 130 mites), followed by Apiguard in August and Oxalic acid in December, there did appear to be lots of varroa on the frames and on the bees. See photo below – I count over 20 mites in a small area. Did this contribute to some sort of colony collapse?

Varroa On Frame
Varroa Mites On Frame

Did the Queen Stop Laying?

Maybe though I saw capped brood and dead bees about to emerge out of cells (see photo below). Cappings are a bit ragged which I think might mean varroa.

Dead bees emerging from cells
Dead bees emerging from cells
Dead bees emerging from cells (2)
Dead bees emerging from cells (2)

Did They Get Too Cold?

Maybe. The location is quite exposed. I have not put insulation under the roof of this hive. The entrance points into a prevailing wind (but it has narrow entrance plus mouseguard).

Was It The Move?

I moved them 100m over Christmas. Perhaps some of the bees returned to their old hive location?

Conclusion

A lot of maybes and no certainties. Frustrating. Such is the life of a beekeeper.

On a positive note, I feel like I have done as much as I could for this colony. It seemed to be strong (and aggressive).  Hence, I’m not as upset as when I feel like it has been my fault. Overall, I’m sorry for the bees that have gone through this experience and disappointed as it means less bees and honey this summer.

Video Of The Inspection

Hmmmm. Not sure if I should expose myself as such a novice? I struggle to just get the frames out. And I seem to be wearing a bee suit when there are no bees. Apologies for the out of focus shots of the comb.

And if you want more information, I have my notes for the last 12 months on this hive: Hive Five Record Card.

Over To You

  1. Grateful for your thoughts on why this colony died?
  2. What should I do with the frames that are mouldy in the hive? Leave them and let next bees clean it up? Or cut out the mould?
  3. On some of the photos above, is it white pollen or sugar stores?

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Post-Script

Based on comments to-date and my experience of this colony, I am minded to think that the main issue was the high varroa count and that insulation and the move whilst not helpful were not the prime causes.

Lessons learnt: I’ll apply Apiguard correctly next time. I didn’t seal the hives as per the instructions to get the best efficacy.

Next steps:

  1. Freeze and reuse the frames (getting rid of the dark comb frames)
  2. Apply MAQS strips to the other hives when it gets to 10C and 6 frames of bees (I’m worried about the other colonies now)
  3. Insulate the roofs and get solid crown boards to reduce drafts in winter
  4. Perhaps insulate the walls further for the hives that are more exposed

Hive Three & A Confession

Life is pretty busy at the moment – that’s what I told myself as I succumbed to the temptation  of buying an ASSEMBLED, yes, yes, yes, ASSEMBLED hive.

I’m ecstatic at the relief of allowing myself to buy an ASSEMBLED hive.

I saved a day and the stresses of hammering, gluing and generally bodging flat packs.

I blamed the fact that buying an assembled hive was only an extra £25 (brood box and stand assembly charge).

My Guilty Pleasure - Assembled Hive In Box
My Guilty Pleasure – Assembled Hive In Box

Now, I just need a swarm or I’ll split my current hive into three hives.

I’ve written quite a lot about building hives:

PS. I did a Varroa count today (counted 5 mites over 14 days) and the count has dropped to less than 140.  The previous count was 980 and I haven’t done anything in the meantime.  Strange. More info at Hive Two Record Card.

Grieving For Bees

Yes, for people like my wife, grieving for bees may seem a little overdramatic and when I’m forced to watch another episode of ‘One Born Every Minute’ by the missus, I can appreciate that it is. Still logic doesn’t account for emotions, and my marital comeback is that ‘it’s my hive and I can cry if I want to.’

The death of a hive is not even a subject I can expect much matey compassion for down the pub (well not before five pints when even the chip shop being closed can seem slightly heartbreaking). Nobody seems to understand that I have been going through a grieving process but let me explain…

Grieving For Bees
Hopson B & Adams J (1976) Transition – Understanding and managing personal change

Please refer to the dotted (b) line on the graph above as the (a) line is for positive events which this most certainly wasn’t.

My Grief Cycle

Day 1. 6pm. Distress – Gut wrenching moment when I realised there was no bee activity. Compounded when I opened the hive and found dead bees. Thousands and thousands of dead bees burrowing into their comb looking for food that wasn’t there and starving to death. It turns out a mass insect grave is pretty horrific to look at. (See: Starving Bees)

I went back home, barely mentioned my heartbreaking discovery and went on as usual. Perhaps opening that bottle of Sloe Gin barely five minutes after taking off my bee suit might have been a hint something was up.

Day 1. 6.30pm. Disbelief – I couldn’t believe it. I thought the bees were tougher than this. I proceeded to do a good Victor Meldrew impression – i.e. “I don’t believe it”.

Day 1. 6.45pm. Denial – I needed to feel that the colony could live on. I made up some sugar syrup and went back out to feed their dying bodies. It was like armageddon in there but I didn’t feel at all like Ben Affleck.

Day 1. 7.00pm. Guilt – I was responsible for these bees and I obviously couldn’t be trusted. This was the worst feeling to handle especially as I couldn’t share it with anyone – least of all my wife who was wanting me to look after our daughter the next morning. I still had to maintain that illusion of competent carer…

Day 1. 7.05pm. Loss of confidence – My improving self-image / esteem as a beekeeper was at an all time low. Just as I had started to think that yes, one day, I too will be mingling confidently with those bearded old pros at the associations, it was now clear that would never happen. I would have to give back my ‘Brilliant Bee Keeper’ badge which I say my wife made me (but I so obviously helped with).

Day 1. 7.10pm. Anger – I was angry with myself. I had no one else to blame but myself. This was worse than when I rolled my parents car two weeks after passing my test and was consequently car-less for the rest of my teenage years. (Though I do have to admit, the loss of a hive probably doesn’t stunt my middle-aged sex appeal quite as much as the loss of wheels did).

Day 2. Bargaining – Just as I was about to take the hive apart, I found the Queen alive. I felt I could do something. I fed them again. Maybe I could be Ben Affleck after all…

Days 1-5. Chaos – Yes I had about as much success as Tony Blair being the Middle East Peace Envoy. After I fed them they were robbed, fights broke out, wasps had a go, there was carnage. I then decided to block the hive up. I then unblocked it a few days later. I did everything I could think of.

Days 3-5. Resignation – I began to accept the probability of this colony not surviving.

Day 6. Depression – There was nothing else to be done, this colony was not going to survive.

Day 9. Acceptance – I took the hive apart. I was now a beekeeper with just one hive. It is unlikely I will be making 50 jars of honey next year. My local monopoly on all things honey-related will have to wait.

Day 10+ Partical recovery so far, rather than a new confidence. I am now able to write about it at least.

I am starting to think about lessons learnt. Ironically, one may be that despite my aim to be as natural a beekeeper as possible, in this case more human intervention was needed. Those bees needed to be fed earlier.

Beekeepers Anonymous

I feel like there is a need for a beekeepers support group which can help us deal with our grief and help us on the beekeeping journey. I have created a page called Beekeepers Anonymous for this purpose. I’m happy to be the first to stand and say ‘Hello, I am Roger and I miss my bees’. Let me know how you guys have handled any loss of your own (and make me feel a bit more sure that I’m not alone!).

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A Visit To Maisemore

I had heard of these places whilst on beekeeping training courses and in whispered conversations. They had evoked more fear than curiosity … until now. Yes – I am talking about beekeeping equipment suppliers!

I imagined it to be like an old-school DIY store, the sort of place where beemen and beewomen would hang out to shoot the breeze. They would look me over and make me feel very small. It would be difficult to have a private, one-to-one conversation with the owner. “Yes I am a beekeeper. I’d like some bees and hives please,” I would ask quietly. “What type of bees and what type of hives?”, would start a conversation where I would gradually have to reveal the depths of my ignorance. I’d leave the store and they’d be thinking “I give him a year”.

But being a beekeeper and blogger I thought I should be brave and it was time I visited an equipment supplier rather than just buy online.

So, was the visit to be like my recent experience at a local DIY store to buy some curtain hooks? (After several visits I ended up buying all the packets of curtain hooks, none of which fitted).

Maisemore – My Local Supplier

Maisemore are just 45 minutes drive from where I live.  I first read about them on their website and was really pleased to find that they operated 1,000 hives across a number of locations. They were still practicing beekeepers and would understand my issues.  They are also a family run business in its 3rd generation.

Maisemore Apiaries
Maisemore Apiaries Warehouse

I arrived to find a big warehouse, a shop, lots of planks of cedar wood and some beehives in operation. Not clean, shiny beehives like my own, but proper working hives that had been built decades ago and stood the test of time.

Maisemore Shop
Maisemore Shop

Johnathan, who owns Maisemore with other family members, was behind the counter. Whilst I was there a few people came in asking about Queens and buying equipment, but nothing like the scary dudes of my imagination. Johnathan knew his stuff and we got chatting. We got on so well in fact, Jonathan kindly agreed to give me some equipment in exchange for some mentions on this blog – hence my new Beekeeping Equipment page!.

Why I Liked Maisemore

  1. They know their stuff – They operate 1,000 hives and understand beekeeping. Their products are not over-engineered and they rely more on word-of-mouth than big budget advertising.
  2. Great value – Their “Rock Bottom Bee Hives” are made of cedar and I couldn’t find any cheaper on my searches.  I have listed and provided links to other suppliers here: Beekeeping Equipment Suppliers
  3. Wide product range – They have all the equipment a new beekeeper needs. If you visit the shop, 95% of the equipment you would need is in the shop and I am sure Jonathan would be able to lay his hands on anything else you wanted, either out-the-back or in the warehouse
  4. I got some free stuff!

If you do buy from their store, please give me a mention (they deliver nationally and internationally). Next year, I’d love to negotiate a good deal on this yellow suit for my “Guest Beekeepers” 😉

Beekeeping Equipment
Beekeeping Equipment In Maisemore Shop

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  • My wife has banned any further spending on beekeeping equipment and I have now started a very small relationship with Maisemore which I talk more about here: Beekeeping Equipment
  • Link to Maisemore Website: www.bees-online.co.uk

Manliness Already Under Scrutiny

Crikey. My first bee experience of the new season, and my manliness is already under self-scrutiny.

What is it about me (my character) that Pete ended up hefting my hive around? Is it something I could do something about … like press-ups?  Or is there somehow I could boost my alpha-maleness so that no one would even consider offering to help?

Or am I over-analysing this and is it simply that he is a strong-armed farmer and I am an office-working weedling? Perhaps I could help him out with some Excel spreadsheets? Probably not.

A similar thing happens when I am at Mum & Dads. If I don’t get asked to do the washing-up, I can definitely feel/anticipate the expectation … but somehow, before I even have the Marigolds on, Dad has started?

I’ve written a few times about the manliness issues that beekeeping has prompted. It’s not attractive! Have a read!!

The Bodge Hammer Returns

Crikey.  This was to be my third hive.  I’ll soon have to bump up my BBKA insurance!  Hmmmm … and I’d better start making some honey.  Or maybe I just shouldn’t blog for a few years and start writing again when I have made a year’s supply of honey, rather than appear to be the beekeeper with all the gear and no idea.

The good news is that I am much improved at building a flat pack beehive.  Yes … the frames are not perfectly square, yes it wobbles, yes there are gaps and yes, the bodge hammer made a few appearances … but the gaps are smaller than a bee, and with a few kilos of honey, some weathering and propolis from the bees … it should be alright.

Flatpack beehive
Flatpack beehive

Even though it has been eight months since I built the last hive, the subconscious is a wonderful thing.  It keeps on learning even after the event.  This time I anticipated problems.   Before I applied hive glue, I hammered in nails, so that they had gone through one piece of wood and nearly ready to go into the next one.  I punched holes through plastic rails using the larger nails.  I was on fire!  It only took me two hours to build the hive stand and open mesh floor.  I think this demonstration of anticipation, is evidence that my Man Intelligence (MQ) has increased in the last year.

As my own workbench had no vice or “things” (also known as vice pegs or clamping dogs) to stop the pieces of wood slipping around, it was a bit tricky, but the garage wall helped.  Ironically, pieces of wood are more slippery after the glue is applied rather than more sticky.  It often felt like a two man (or person) job but I was going to do this by myself.

Slowly, I am dissolving away the idealist in me that would like to make perfect square hives that don’t rock, and who would like to know what is going on in the beehive.  I am trying to become someone who is happy when it’s good enough.

I am not yet that person … “where’s the bodge hammer”??!!

If you liked this post you might want to read the first mention of the bodge hammer.

“Every man needs a workbench”

Or do they?  Do we??

The memories of Heidi going through six days of labour were still very fresh, but the memories of building my last flat pack hive had faded enough that I bought another one.  So either I could pop round to Dad’s and borrow his Workmate … or, now I have a garage, I could buy my own workbench.

As soon as I had the idea to buy one I was very excited and however much I analysed my actual, functional need, there was little that was going to dampen my emotional desire to own a workbench.  I had to buy one.  Not a pop up one, but a permanent fixture.

A real man would chop down a tree and build their own, chunky workbench.  I went online, did my research and bought a flat pack workbench for £78.  I could justify £78.  £10 functional value, £68 emotional value.  (If you’re interested in this workbench follow these links: UK Link, USA Link).

I assembled the workbench in less than an hour.  Most of this time was spent wrestling the top shelf into the frame, but what a friend calls “the bodge hammer” sorted it out with a few bangs.

BiGDUG Workbench
Workbench

Now my workbench was assembled and a little damaged from my efforts, my sister asked what I was going to do with it?  I repeated the mantra that “every man needs a work bench”.  But she persisted and asked “what for”?  “I needed it”.  “What for”?  “To build my flat pack hive”.  “And then what”?  Errrrmmmm.

The truth is I want to be the type of man who has a workbench.  The type of man who goes in his garage and bangs away with other people fearing the development in progress and comes out proudly holding a box of no particular use.  I want my garage door to be the equivalent of a wardrobe door that takes me to a DIY Narnia where I am King.  I want to sometimes leave my garage door open so elderly neighbours walking past can see my shiny but well used tools.  I want my workbench to shout, he knows stuff, he makes stuff, and he can show Nick Knowles what to do with his wrench!

After buying the workbench, I was feeling newly masculated until I went to an NCT (National Childbirth Trust) house party.  I was given a tour to discover that the Man Of The House had a Harley Davidson in his garage …

If you liked this post and want to know where the manliness anxieties started, you might like to read I Am Not A Beeman.

On being a Dad

And now, the questions you have all been asking.

Q. How is it being a Dad?

A. It’s alright!  It’s pretty good.  (Heidi – this is an understatement, I just don’t want to tell everyone how brilliant it is)

Q. What’s your role as the Man Of The House?

A. Hmmmm.  Good question.  It seems to be cooking, cleaning, shopping, winding.  When it gets too much, I sometimes go into the garage to build beehive parts.  I would describe myself as Man In The House, rather than Of.

Q. How are you getting on with all the blokey, technical stuff, like sorting out the pram?

A.  I can’t talk about the pram.  It brings me out in cold sweats.  OK, I can talk about the pram [fakes a deep breath].   It takes me about 20 minutes to either fold it up to put in the car, and the same time to take it out of the car and put it up.  Each time I go through this process (which has been twice now), something breaks as I force it into position.  I don’t think my baby girl’s life is in immediate danger in the pram, it still seems to work OK.  Each time I go through the process of collapsing and reassembling the pram, I have no idea how I got from A to B or B to A.  The pram is currently in a collapsed state in the garage.  Last time I went into town I didn’t have time* to work out how to use the papoose (baby carrier) so I carried Senen over my shoulder, in a manly way, like a sack of potatoes.

* When I say I didn’t have enough time … 30 minutes seemed plenty at the time, but it was not enough.

Q. And what is your role with the other gadgets like the breast bump and 2-way intercom?

A. I’ve delegated them to Heidi.  I can’t look at one more set of instructions – unless someone comes round and shows me how these things work.  The man doesn’t have to be in charge of all gadgets, does he?  I am choosing to be a New Man in this area.  No one needs to know.

Q.  How do you feel walking around town pushing a pram?

A.  Have you ever seen My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding?  A man’s relationship with a pram is complex.  It’s a bit like asking me how would I feel wearing a handbag or a dress or using one of those shopping trolleys that older people take to the shops?  There’s nothing wrong with it.  It’s practical.  It’s just that, errr, it does not fit comfortably with my self-image of Being A Man.  I prefer the baby carrier, but that does not fit my self-image of Being A Man either.  I’m looking forward to carrying her on my shoulders.

If you are wondering where all these male insecurities started, you might like to read I Am Not A Beeman or if you like the Dad theme, try It’s A Girl or Proud Dad.

My Dad – The Swarm Catcher

It wasn’t meant to be like this.  I was meant to be The Man, or better yet, The Beeman.  But The Old Man is taking all the glory.  To be fair, he is far more relaxed around the bees than me, so he probably did a far better job.  I can only take credit for the fact I gave him instructions down the phone.  After I put the phone down,  for a couple of seconds I thought “Crikey – I hope he’ll be alright” … and then I buried my head in some metaphorical sand, stuck my fingers in my ears and started a mantra along the lines of La La La.  This is the closest I get to meditation these days.

The bees swarmed … yes, again.  It was Friday 20th July and I was at work.  You might be wondering, which hive?  Depending on how well you remember the bee story so far, you might know it as Hive B, or the New Hive or the-swarm-I-hived-near-the-start-of-June.  Yes, they’d only been in there 6 weeks and half of them were ready to take off again.  I’d given them a nice, big, 14×12 brood box and whacked a super on top for good measure.  What was there not to like?  Me?  Anyhow, not to worry, there are still bees coming in and out as I write this – just rather fewer than a few weeks ago.

I told Dad to get the cardboard box and bee brush, don his beekeeper suit, find someone to take photos, brush the bees into the box, flip it upside down with a rock underneath to give the remaining bees space to get in, call the local bee association for them to collect (I had no where to put them), wait a couple of hours for all the bees to go in and then seal them up and put a few holes in the box.  Easy!

Here are a few photos and video clips of my Dad being manly, filmed by The Chicken Man (aka the chap who owns the chicken coop where the swarm landed).

 The Swarm – on a chicken coop in the allotment

 

Curious Cows – the cows come from the other side of the field to check out the action

Cows watching bee swarm

 

 Dad – The Swarm Catcher! Brushes bees into box

 Swarm Catcher

 

 Remaining honeybees find the Queen and rest of the swarm through pheromones

Catching a swarm

 

Dad fancies himself as David Attenborough

 

Dad seals bees in the box for collection

Swarm in a box

 

So yes – Dad not only survived but succeeded.  Thanks Dad!

Someone from the local bee association came to collect the swarm and whilst he was there he looked in the new hive with Dad.  When Dad told me this my Inner Beeman, who is already feeling a bit of a loser, took quite a confidence knock.  Crikey, am I so inadequate that I can’t check be trusted to check my own bees?  Anyhow, he spotted a Queen cell and thinks this is the hive where the swarm came from.

I have not looked in the hive for a few weeks now because (A) I’m a bad beekeeper, (B) I don’t think I have had any reason to check them and (C) it fits my new philosophy of Evidence-Based Beekeeping.  However, I am definitely inspecting the bees this weekend for the following:

  • Check how much honey there is and consider harvesting
  • Check their stores of honey and pollen
  • Make sure both hives have laying Queens, eggs and brood

Amazingly its near the end of the nectar flow and I need to start thinking about getting the bees ready for Winter.  I know the days are getting shorter but I’m still, looking forward to some Summer and I’m not yet ready to think about the colder months ahead.

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An encouraging(?) email

Sometimes I am not sure if friends are encouraging or just a bit too jubilant when things go wrong.  This email arrived a few days ago …

“It seems bees are all the rage, the National Trust is selling a book on bee basics.  It includes a few handy tips and 8 don’ts. Number 3 is don’t let your bees swarm, number 4 don’t upset the neighbours (swarming bees in their garden is a no no), I can see these little insects are a real commitment, bring on the baby!!!”

 Note: My new wife is pregnant.

Postscript: For an update you might want to read Proud Dad.

Warning – novice beekeeper alert

I inspected my TWO hives on Sunday with some trepidation.

Hive A: My hopes were raised when I looked in the old hive (the one that swarmed 5 weeks ago) and I saw white “stuff” at the bottom of some of the cells.  To a desperate, novice beekeeper, they looked a bit like uncapped larvae. To members of the Beekeeping Forum, with no emotional attachment to my hives, it was definetly granulated honey stores.  In conclusion, there may, or maynot, be a newly-laying Queen. Advice from beekeepers welcome.

Hive B: The newly hived swarm seemed to be doing nicely.  The first thing that amazed me was that they had drunk all the sugar syrup I had given them.  They had drawn out most of the frames and were starting to fill them with nectar and pollen.  I was hoping to see eggs, but it was 5pm, the light was poor and I could not see any.  The only worry about this hive is that Dad report enormous amounts of activity at about 1.30pm and he showed me some photos and it looked like they might have been planning to swarm.  So this might be a Queenless hive too.  Advice appreciated.

This is my first year of beekeeping and it’s even more complex than I originally thought.  Four days of training, some experience and numerous books had not shown me any photos of granulated stores or given me a definitive answer on what to do in the circumstances I have described in a number of posts.  There is a constant uncertainty around not having a laying Queen and further swarming.  I had hoped to be an OK beekeeper in my first year and make 2-3 supers of honey. I am now seeing this period as a huge learning experience.

I am going to phone a friend.

Original hive / brood box frame / no brood / granulated honey in centre / honey stores around the edge:

granulated stores

Newly hived swarm / drawing out new comb:

new hive brood frame

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Hive envy – according to Freud

I braced myself and decided it was time to check out Darren’s hives. I’d showed him mine so, you know, it only seemed fair.

Like most of my friends, Darren is more manly than myself.  He likes making fire, snowboarding at speed and wears chunky, S&M style wrist jewellery.  He likes BIG hives and aggressive bees.  He likes them aggressive as he believes they make more honey.

His garden extends into an allotment.  He describes himself as a low intervention beekeeper and I knew what he meant as we hacked our way through undergrowth to reach his hives.  It was actually quite magical when we got there, not least because his hives towered into the lower braches of the trees … one of the hives was on a triple brood box and full of bees!

Every frame was bursting with bees and filled with eggs, brood, honey and pollen in near perfect form.  As we got to the 33rd and final frame in the brood we found the Queen that he had marked last year.  He had found her last year, picked her up by her legs and marked her with Tipex.  I can’t even pick up a daddy-long-legs by the legs.

The visit re-established my bee-keeping inferiority complex, but it was a useful session.  I now know what eggs look like, how to see them and what a Queen looks like.  She’s a lot longer than the other bees.

Some beautiful wild honeycomb in one of Darren’s hives:

wild honeycomb

A bumbleebee on the wild honeycomb:

bumblebee on wild honeycomb

 

A busy brood box (one of the triple brood box colony):

busy beehive

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Beekeeping ambitions – pure emotion

I want a second hive, because for some reason, for me, one just isn’t enough.  I’ve tried explaining this to my wife but she just thinks I’m mad (and sometimes she thinks I’m just greedy).

There is some logic about having a second hive so you can compare hives … but rest assured, my need has nothing to do with logic.

Postscript: And then I tried to build it.

Easy come, easy go

Photo sent to me from my neighbour, of my newly-hived bees just before they swarmed again and left me:

newly hived bees departing

What’s more annoying than someone who’s told you your hive has swarmed is someone who’s seen and told you twice.  I want to be the first to know.  I want to give the impression that everything is in control.  Do other beekeepers feel like this?  But I have to get over this because it’s actually very useful (so thanks Andrew).

By the time I got home, they were all gone.  They hadn’t even started to draw out the foundation into comb.

I spoke to another beekeeper the same day and he said the same thing happened to him last year.  Phew!  It’s not just me.  The beekeeping books say one could put some drawn comb in the hive, but I don’t have any of that yet.

Bees on the outside of the hive – is this normal?

I confess, I am a very nervous beekeeper.

My wife is in awe at my supposed bravery in taking on such a ‘scary’ hobby – but the reality is, I still don’t feel comfortable beekeeping unless I have a professional by my side, or at least, my Dad.

He stands there calmly saying “focus on what you are doing”, I go into a panic-like zone and forget the basics like making my beesuit bee-tight.

Last week, I plucked up the courage to open the hive for a second time.  I had to.  It was the start of May – the swarmy season – and apparently I have “swarmy” bees.  The books said I needed to:

  1. Check if they were making a Queen cell, because if they were they would soon swarm and cause chaos
  2. Look for a Queen and mark her, so that I could undertake an artificial swarm to prevent a real swarm and chaos
  3. Make sure there was honey, pollen and brood in the frames, confirming that everything was OK
  4. Give them a sprinkle of icing sugar, to help reduce varroa

Only four little “to do’s” but one massive, noisy hive with 30,000 bees in it!

Crikey, it was busy (see photos below).

Step 1 – Looking for a Queen

No chance!  30,000 bees (many strangely on the outside of the hive after I had been examining the frames) versus one panicky, novice beekeeper with bees crawling inside his beesuit.

Yes – admittedly on my side I also have a calmer novice beekeeper (i.e. Dad) but unfortunately he’s an ally with macular degeneration who hadn’t had his Lucentis injection recently and now has a view of the world with an aspect ratio of 124:1.  To my Dad, all the bees looked like long, stripy worms.

Step 2 – Looking for a Queen Cell

Dad thought he saw a queen cell – but what did he know?  (Quite a lot apparently, see my next post).  In my panic-driven rush, I told him it was a drone cell.

Steps 3 & 4 – Checking the frames & using icing sugar

The frames seemed to have enough pollen, nectar (not capped) and brood. And I finished off the session by throwing icing sugar about, some of which went in the hive.

Phew.  Another encounter with bees leaves me stingless. Success in some form at least …

Help! Am I doing this right?

Beekeepers – how did I end up with so many bees on the outside of the hive?

Beehive covered in bees  Close up of bees outside hive

Postscript: You might want to read some of my swarmy bee posts!

Will “religion for atheists” help me regain my sanity?

In his new book, Religion for Atheists: A Non-Believer’s Guide to the Uses of Religion, Alain de Botton argues that religion has important things to teach the secular world.

He believes religions are packed with good ideas on how to live and arrange our societies. Alain proposes that we should look to religions for insights into how to build a sense of community, make our relationships last, get more out of art, overcome feelings of envy and inadequacy, and much more.

He’s in Bristol on the 16th May as part of the Festival of Ideas to discuss this book.

Sounds like the sort of thing I should get involved with!  I’ll be there.

If you have read this book or heard Alain speak, please share your thoughts below.

Read books I recommend by Alain de Botton.

Manliness – Learning to use a hammer at the age of 39

Renting flats and house shares for 20 years has meant that I have not needed to do any DIY or look after a garden EVER in my life.  Despite having an engineering degree, the only hand tools I have used have been a knife, fork and spoon.  Ever the modern-man, I have sensitive skin, use Marigolds and Head-To-Toe baby wash.  As a consequence my hands have a softness that Fairy Liquid models gush about and which my more manly friends are shocked by.  I feel this might change as I type this with hands bearing blisters and holes where I pulled splinters out.

Hammering has got to be simple, right?  It’s like one of the first things that our hominid ancestors did before they discovered fire.  I banged at the first nail with the enthusiasm and dexterity of an 8 year old child wielding a Bob-The-Builder tool-kit.  It went in at an angle and ending up poking out dangerously from the brood box.

My 70-year-old Dad, then showed me how to hammer nails in straight.  I always saw myself as a late developer, but not this late!  Should I be embarrassed writing this?  Not sure.

I looked at the flat hive pack with only slightly less trepidation than I look at the beehive.  So many parts.  So much that could go wrong.

Dad was keen for us to use his Black & Decker Workmate and he patiently showed me how it worked.  I’m glad he’s got the kit.

black and decker workmate beehive construction

Two hours after we started we had a hive stand.  Only a brood box, frames, supers and roof to go.  I don’t have time for this!  This is where the ready-assembled beehaus would have come into its own.

I thought beekeeping was going to help me regain my sanity but these last few days it has been making me feel anxious.  I am on a schedule.  I only have evenings and weekends.  I’m getting married in a week.  I have a load of to-do’s and a speech to write.  But the bees are full of varroa and on the edge of swarming.  If I don’t build this second hive now I won’t be ready to artificially swarm the bees.  I need to read up about varroa and how to get rid of it.  And this blog needs feeding, even though I only have 3 Facebook Friends.

Hopefully, the slow-paced, regaining my sanity moments will come later, right?

Other manly stuff I did this week (with Dad metaphorically holding my hand):

  • Went to a building product suppliers and talked with men – they treated me gently
  • Bought 2 flagstones to put under the hives
  • Got my first splinters in 20 years and enjoyed the pain
  • Built most of the rest of the hive (20 man hours so far)

PS. I am still worried about opening up the hive.

The next time I had to man-up was when I broke an unwritten family rule.

I Am Not A Beeman

Unlike me, Jonathan is a real beeman. He knows stuff.  He knows useful stuff about the weather, bees and plants, whilst I have a couple of theoretical GCSEs in Geography and Biology. He’s got dreadlocks.  I’ve got a short back and sides with designer stubble.  Not waxing is my token gesture to manhood.  He picks bees up by their wings.  I stare at bees and wonder what to do.  He gets the smoker started in less than a minute.  I just stand and stare uselessly wondering “how did he do that”?  He uses his bare hands to wipe the floor board clean which has quite a few varroa mites on.  I cringe and think “I need to man-up”.  He casually knocks bees off the frames.  I knock 1 or 2 off when I try the same technique.  He is a beeman.  I am not a man.  I am not even a fish (to quote an Apprentice episode).  When will I be able to strut proudly in my beesuit?  I had better read “Status Anxiety” again.

My new-to-me hive:

 My Beehive  National Beehive

Major U-turn!  I have a confession to make!  You may have noticed from the photo that it does not look like an urban setting.  The plan to be an urban beekeeper has changed as an opportunity came up to buy a National hive full of bees in a countryside allotment.  Beekeeping is not cheap and this seemed a good way to start.

Despite my ineptitude and lack of beemanliness, Jonathan was fine about selling me his bees.  I am not sure how the bees feel about it.  I will introduce myself properly when my beesuit arrives, but I am guessing my arrival might not be welcome.  If I was them, I would rather be looked-after by Jonathan.

As I write this post from my flat in Bristol, it feels strange to think that there is a hive out there that I am responsible for.  It feels a bit overwhelming.  Where’s Jonathan?  Can I send him another text?  Did the cost of the beehive include dealing with an anxious, novice beekeeper?

 “There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don’t know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don’t know we don’t know.” United States Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld”, 2002

My fears – the known knows:

  1. The Queen is unmarked. How am I going to find her amongst 30,000 other bees, when I artificially swarm them in a few weeks time?
  2. Will I be able to handle the bees, or will they terrify me?
  3. Will I be able to reduce the varroa and remove the ants?
  4. Will I be able to build a hive from a flat pack (I am so unpractical)?
  5. Jonathan says the bees are “swarmy” – a technical term for the fact that I might not have any bees next week and risk annoying lots of neighbours

My ignorance – the “unknown unknowns”:

Despite my Geography and Biology GCSEs, I know little of practical use about the environment and animals.  Whilst Rumsfeld might have been coy about what he knew, I can honestly say that when I look at the hive, it is the great unknown to me!

To manage my fears I have a plan: 

  1. To deal with the varroa: order some Hive Clean (natural treatment for the varroa)
  2. To deal with the ants: get some cinnamon and vaseline (more in a future post)
  3. To deal with the “swarminess” – buy another hive and when the bees start creating Queen cells, get Jonathan over, find and mark the Queen and do an artificial swarm into the new hive.  (I will then have 2 hives! Am I multiplying my problems?  The expression “out of the frying pan and into the fire” comes to mind.)

I think it’s gonna be alright.

Post script: As a beekeeper, this was the first time I realised I had some manliness issues to deal with.  The next time they cropped up was when buillding a flat pack beehive, Manliness – Learning to use a hammer at the age of 39.