After installing the package last week I was anxious to take a peek inside to see how things were going. It's recommended that you wait anywhere between 3 to 7 days before opening the hive to ensure that the new queen has been completely accepted by her new subjects. When the package is assembled, bees are taken from one or two hives and the queen comes from someplace else. Meaning that she is a stranger to the bees surrounding her cage in the package. Given the chance, in those first few days after introduction, the bees are more likely to kill her as invite her to tea. The queen gives off several pheromones including one that makes her subjects happy and contented with her presence. After a few days of this scent circulating through the hive - about the time it takes for everyone to eat away the candy plug in her cage to release her - she becomes supreme potentate with all ready to do her bidding. This is what the beekeeper hopes to have been achieved by the time he opens the hive for inspection. For some reason, when things go wrong for the bees during those first critical days, such as an invasion from some impossibly large foreign thug with a smoker, they like to blame the queen for their troubles and may decide on a palace coup to set things right. Alas, the thanks she gets for laying thousands of eggs, day after day, is a lethal mob who keep their compound eyes trained on her for any perceived sign of weakness or malfeasance of duty.
As I say, I was anxious to open that hive up and see what they had been up to, but I respected the waiting period. I didn't have much choice anyway because the weather in the week since I installed the package has been historically bad for mid-April. Very cold with a couple of days of gale-force winds. I was beginning to think the gods were not happy with my choice of hobbies. But at last, on Friday, the weather turned beautiful. A cloudless sunny day with temperatures around 70 degrees. I took the day off work and in the afternoon, I set to work. I gathered all my tools, lit my smoker and put on my gear. With my better half looking on from a safe distance, I smoked the entrance to the hive, took off the top cover and smoked the bees that were up in the hive-top feeder. The sound of buzzing grew as the bees scrambled out of the way and ran for their small store of honey I guess. I cracked the feeder off the brood box and shot a few puffs of smoke in there too. I waited a bit for the message to get across and then I hoisted the feeder off of the hive and set it aside.
Readers of this blog will recall that I wrote of a high mortality rate on installation day ---
(B-Day). Apparently, the number of deaths were trifling, because I'm happy to report that many, many bees survived that day. The hive box consists of ten suspended frames that contain beeswax foundation on which the bees will draw out comb in which to lay eggs and store pollen, honey, nectar & water. The three or four middle frames were completely covered in bees. A roiling mass of tiger-striped workaholics. There were many bees flying around but the great majority stayed put on the frames. I took out the first frame closest to the outside wall and hung it on a rack specially made for the purpose. No comb had been started here and there were only a half dozen bees on the frame - probably playing hooky. I then worked my way towards the center, lifting each frame and examining it. The first few were like the wall frame with no comb and reletively few bees but as I got towards the center, the frames were heavy with thousands of bees so thick it was difficult to see the foundation under them. I could tell that they had begun comb on three or four of these middle frames but, try as I might, I could not find the queen in these masses. I was hoping it would be easy to see her because she came with a nice blue spot painted on her back. It was like finding Waldo. After looking for a time, I gave up.
I had suspended her cage initially between the sixth and seventh frames. I saw that the plug was now gone and the queen had escaped into the hive to hobnob with the riff raff. I pulled the cage out and after brushing off the clinging workers, set it aside. Because the cage was hanging between the frames, it had created a condition in which I had violated what is known as "bee space." A fellow named Langstroth in the nineteenth century had figured out that bees like a space of about 3/8 of an inch between things. Anything less than that, they fill with something called propolis, a dark sticky goop that they use to seal up cracks and other small openings in the hive. If the space is much bigger than that bee space, the little critters will endeavor to fill it with wild, or burr comb - not a good outcome for the beekeeper for various reasons. My girls had taken the opportunity to build two large, suspended marvels of such engineering in the space on either side of the queen's cage. Beautiful white, oval structures that they had filled with pollen and an incredibly sticky, clear substance that I assume to be nectar on its way to becoming honey? Have to ask about that one! Using my hive tool, I carefully removed this comb, cleared off the multitudes of bees and set it aside at a safe distance. Later, on further inspection with an eye loop, I also saw several eggs tucked away in several cells! Yippee! That meant the invisible queen was doing her thing as recently as two days ago anyway. At this point, I reassembled the hive with my only concern being that I couldn't be sure that the queen was okay. Odds are she is, but having never seen her I couldn't be sure where she might have ended up during the operation of removing the wild comb. Was she on there? I never saw her but who knows. I guess I'll have to wait for the next inspection to find out. Stay tuned...
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
The How's and Why's of Getting into This Bee Thing
Since my previous message had no idea it would become a blog, I figured some background was in order here folks. Installing the package was, after all, not the real beginning of this adventure, just the first event in the saga that actually involved dealing with the little winged wonders. And so now I give you my personal "How's and Why's of Getting into this Bee Thing."
Most people's initial response to my telling them I was getting into beekeeping has been... "Really... that's interesting. I'm allergic to bees." But that is often followed by genuine curiosity about what it's all about. Everybody has at least some curiosity about "bugs" and honey bees are among the most fascinating of the creepy crawly things out there. They are highly evolved social insects. The hive, which can number upwards of 60,000 bees, is really almost an organism in and of itself. Every bee in the hive has a prescribed function that at various points in their 4-6 week lives (for workers) keeps the operation running smoothly.
According to "The Beekeepers Handbook" by Diana Sammataro and Alphonse Avitabile, the queen has the smallest brain of the three classes within the hive. Yet she sits at the top of the hive hierarchy. Kinda brings some well known human institutions to mind, don't it? Nevertheless, she is by far the most important individual bee in the colony for one very important reason. She lays eggs, eggs, and more eggs. Upwards of 15-2500 per day. She is so busy laying eggs that nature has removed most other basic responsibilities from her, such as feeding herself. She has a continual retinue of workers who feed her, groom her, even remove her wastes. Nothing is to distract from her job of laying eggs to replenish the hive's population. They call her a queen to keep her smiling, no doubt.
Workers, who make up probably 95% of the population are non-reproductive females and, as their name implies, do just about everything for the hive's survival. They clean the hive, fight off enemies, take care of the brood, queen and drones, forage for pollen and nectar. You name it, they do it until their poor little wings are frayed and their little bodies just can't take no more. And they die. As a final disservice, their worn out little corpses are unceremoniously booted out the front door of the hive and soon forgotten...if anyone actually gave a twig about them to begin with. They are the ultimate team players my friends.
Drones, are the males in this land of sweat and toil and their sole function is to mate with virgin queens. Can I get a "Yeah, Baby!" The workers feed them and they basically hang around the hive eating, watching football and awaiting the day when their stud services are required. These are some layed-back fellas. They don't even have stingers. They are incapable of foraging for pollen or nectar. They clean nothing. There are downsides, however. If they successfully mate with a virgin queen, they die from the act. When the cold weather begins in the fall, the workers toss their lazy rear ends out of the hive. But on balance, I like their gig. If they miss out in the conjugal arena, they have several months of being wined and dined before they get the boot. Compare that to the life of toil and drudgery that is the workers lot.
Of course, that description of hive life is about as bare bones as it gets, but the fascination I have for the many nuances of bee life was one thing that got me interested in doing this beekeeping thing. I also have this retirement dream of having a small farm where I can grow things and have lots of critters. Living in suburbia, bees are about the only livestock that I can practice on. Plus, I like honey. I'd like to see if I can make some with my own bees. My hardworkin' girls!
To begin with, I read several books. "The Queen and I" by Ed Weiss; "Beekeeping for Dummies" by Howland Blackiston; "Beekeeping: A Practical Guide" and "Hive Management" by Richard E. Bonney and the aforementioned "The Beekeepers Handbook"; These and three or four others were my introduction to the hobby of keeping bees. I joined Beekeepers Association of Northern Virginia (BANV) and attended some of their meetings, and finally, I enrolled in their eight-week class on Practical Beekeeping. This whole process took about six months. I bought hives, tools, protective clothing and impatiently awaited the day described in my previous blog entry.
As you can tell from that entry, despite all the preparation and months of mental reheasal, things did not go as smoothly as I would have hoped! The fault of that can be layed down to one unforeseen consideration. Bees in books don't sail around your head at 100 miles per hour. Bees in books don't land all over you just to check you out. And when you read about them in books, their stingers are tucked safely away in the color photographs. When these things leave the pages and become reality you have to check all of your primordial instincts at the door and remain calm. On the whole, I think I did pretty well. But there was a period of about five to ten minutes where panic was the order of the day. I admit it. I did not remain calm. I confess that this 5 to 10 minutes probably cost a couple of thousand bees their lives. There! I've said it! So sue me!
But, as I've said, the vast majority of the bees did make the transition to the hive despite the clumsy ministrations of their keeper. This week, I get a second package for my other hive and I get to do it all over again. But this time, I will do better. I hope to keep the mortality levels down into the hundreds this time around. I'll keep you posted.
Most people's initial response to my telling them I was getting into beekeeping has been... "Really... that's interesting. I'm allergic to bees." But that is often followed by genuine curiosity about what it's all about. Everybody has at least some curiosity about "bugs" and honey bees are among the most fascinating of the creepy crawly things out there. They are highly evolved social insects. The hive, which can number upwards of 60,000 bees, is really almost an organism in and of itself. Every bee in the hive has a prescribed function that at various points in their 4-6 week lives (for workers) keeps the operation running smoothly.
According to "The Beekeepers Handbook" by Diana Sammataro and Alphonse Avitabile, the queen has the smallest brain of the three classes within the hive. Yet she sits at the top of the hive hierarchy. Kinda brings some well known human institutions to mind, don't it? Nevertheless, she is by far the most important individual bee in the colony for one very important reason. She lays eggs, eggs, and more eggs. Upwards of 15-2500 per day. She is so busy laying eggs that nature has removed most other basic responsibilities from her, such as feeding herself. She has a continual retinue of workers who feed her, groom her, even remove her wastes. Nothing is to distract from her job of laying eggs to replenish the hive's population. They call her a queen to keep her smiling, no doubt.
Workers, who make up probably 95% of the population are non-reproductive females and, as their name implies, do just about everything for the hive's survival. They clean the hive, fight off enemies, take care of the brood, queen and drones, forage for pollen and nectar. You name it, they do it until their poor little wings are frayed and their little bodies just can't take no more. And they die. As a final disservice, their worn out little corpses are unceremoniously booted out the front door of the hive and soon forgotten...if anyone actually gave a twig about them to begin with. They are the ultimate team players my friends.
Drones, are the males in this land of sweat and toil and their sole function is to mate with virgin queens. Can I get a "Yeah, Baby!" The workers feed them and they basically hang around the hive eating, watching football and awaiting the day when their stud services are required. These are some layed-back fellas. They don't even have stingers. They are incapable of foraging for pollen or nectar. They clean nothing. There are downsides, however. If they successfully mate with a virgin queen, they die from the act. When the cold weather begins in the fall, the workers toss their lazy rear ends out of the hive. But on balance, I like their gig. If they miss out in the conjugal arena, they have several months of being wined and dined before they get the boot. Compare that to the life of toil and drudgery that is the workers lot.
Of course, that description of hive life is about as bare bones as it gets, but the fascination I have for the many nuances of bee life was one thing that got me interested in doing this beekeeping thing. I also have this retirement dream of having a small farm where I can grow things and have lots of critters. Living in suburbia, bees are about the only livestock that I can practice on. Plus, I like honey. I'd like to see if I can make some with my own bees. My hardworkin' girls!
To begin with, I read several books. "The Queen and I" by Ed Weiss; "Beekeeping for Dummies" by Howland Blackiston; "Beekeeping: A Practical Guide" and "Hive Management" by Richard E. Bonney and the aforementioned "The Beekeepers Handbook"; These and three or four others were my introduction to the hobby of keeping bees. I joined Beekeepers Association of Northern Virginia (BANV) and attended some of their meetings, and finally, I enrolled in their eight-week class on Practical Beekeeping. This whole process took about six months. I bought hives, tools, protective clothing and impatiently awaited the day described in my previous blog entry.
As you can tell from that entry, despite all the preparation and months of mental reheasal, things did not go as smoothly as I would have hoped! The fault of that can be layed down to one unforeseen consideration. Bees in books don't sail around your head at 100 miles per hour. Bees in books don't land all over you just to check you out. And when you read about them in books, their stingers are tucked safely away in the color photographs. When these things leave the pages and become reality you have to check all of your primordial instincts at the door and remain calm. On the whole, I think I did pretty well. But there was a period of about five to ten minutes where panic was the order of the day. I admit it. I did not remain calm. I confess that this 5 to 10 minutes probably cost a couple of thousand bees their lives. There! I've said it! So sue me!
But, as I've said, the vast majority of the bees did make the transition to the hive despite the clumsy ministrations of their keeper. This week, I get a second package for my other hive and I get to do it all over again. But this time, I will do better. I hope to keep the mortality levels down into the hundreds this time around. I'll keep you posted.
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Bees Have Finally Arrived
Well, yesterday was the big day. The package of bees that I received on Tuesday had survived to B-DAY ...code name for sticking 10,000 bees into a 16x20 box. I got home early from work, made a gallon of sugar syrup and gathered all of my tools (I thought) to accomplish my mission. The sugar syrup involved bringing a gallon of water to just shy of boiling and adding eight pounds of granulated sugar, stirring until it was all dissolved. I was sticky for an hour afterwards! I poured some of this concoction into a spray bottle and the rest into what's called a "hive-top" feeder. I got everything staged outside near the empty hive. Joe and his buddy Justin came over equipped with their video cameras to record the event. After Theresa got home, we began. The package is a screened box a little bigger than a shoebox containing thousands of buzzing bees, a quart can of sugar syrup and a small cage containing the queen and her small entourage.
First step was to spray the bees with the sugar syrup to preoccupy them for the procedure ahead. I prised off the lid exposing the top of the feeder can and the queen cage. After removing these and recovering the box, I installed the queen cage in the hive (the bees release her over the next several days)
At this point I have to say that having read several books, and most particularly, watched a video of decidedly manly men performing this whole procedure with a minimum of protection, I had decided I would be one of these manly men and do the same, ie. a short sleeve shirt, thin plastic gloves and the veil that I was not manly enough to do without. "Hiving" the bees involves shaking the bees out of the package into the hive. Well, it would have been nice of the bees to dutifully enter the hive and await further instructions from their beekeeper. But bees don't put too much stock in being dutiful...at least to a hulking beekeeper who smells funny. So down they went into the hive and many, many of them came back up to check out the aforementioned funny-smelling hulking beekeeper. Immediately I was stung three times and off I ran into the yard, recorded for posterity on Joe's video camera.
At that point I gave up on being a manly man and donned full protection (as seen in the attached picture!) Once I was covered from head to toe and thus achieved a feeling of security in my mind, things proceeded much more smoothly and I'm happy to say that the bees are safely ensconced in there hive now. On coming home from work today (Friday) I was delighted to see them doing what bees do...winging in and out of the hive entrance on their appointed rounds. Checking the hive feeder confirmed that they are chowing down on all that sugar syrup I made for them and so I have high hopes for their success.
And so endeth the beginning of this adventure. I'll keep you all posted with further developments at least until you say stop!
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