Episode 5: A Mess (Amateur Hour at the Hive)

I feel like I deserve a failing blogger award. I have wanted to update more frequently, just as I have wanted to visit my bees more frequently in these recent days, but it is one of many things on a long to-do list.
I went to check on the hive this past Monday, and it had been about two weeks since my last inspection. At the last inspection, there was a definite increase in cross-combing. I was not able to pull out bars 1-3, and I had a  hard time with the rest and damaged some comb in the process.
I didn't get to the hive on Monday until the evening hours, so I was a bit worried that the bees would be unhappy. After my last experience, though, I read on a forum that if you remove a lot of bars at a time, it causes more agitation for the bees. I think that may have been part of my problem. So this time, I pulled out one bar to make a little space, and the bees seemed much happier about it. Earlier in the day, I witnessed more activity at the hive entrance than I have ever seen. There were a lot of bees that seemed to be hovering around the entrance. I wonder (and hope) that this was a group of newly born bees on an orientation flight. By the time I went to open the hive, things had calmed down, but I was a little worried that things were getting cramped and that the bees needed more space. There were still three empty bars before my follower board, so I don't think that was it. I pulled out the first bar with comb and saw some capped drone brood. Every time I see drones or drone brood, I worry a little that my hive is queenless and I have laying workers, but I don't think they would be making so much progress if that was the case. And even if it was, they will make a new queen anyway. (Right? I hope...)
The second to last bar with comb was harder to remove, and in my clumsiness, it slipped off of one side and started falling down into the hive. I had to use my hive tool to get it back out and killed a couple bees in the process. I always feel bad about that. This also made me understand why people work their bees without gloves. As much as I appreciate the security of the gloves (and the fact that I would have been stung in the hand last time had it not been for them), they are way too big for my hands and make it a lot harder for me to feel what I am touching. So far, I've managed to shed my multiple layers of clothing, and I'm down to a pair of jeans (no leggings beneath) and a tank top under my bee jacket and veil. I could probably get stung in the leg if the bees really wanted to do that, but so far, so good.
Back to that bar I almost dropped... I pulled it out and there were two separate combs on it, both at an angle. One was broken off of a bigger comb from the next bar. Nectar was dripping out. Bees were annoyed. I put the bar back in. Crap. When I went to the next bar, I saw that it had the same problem, only exponentially worse. Both pieces of comb were attached to the next bar. At that point I sort of gave it up and decided I have to get those guides on the bars as soon as possible, or pretty soon I'm not going to be able to look at anything because they'll all be stuck together. I pulled out all the bars behind my follower board and set them aside before closing up the hive.(Side note: during this inspection, there were a lot of bees poking around in this area which is technically closed off to them. Not sure what they are doing. There was no comb but there was some propolis on the bars.) Yesterday I bought 75 large popsicle sticks. I'm going to glue them to the boards and then paint them with beeswax. I think I also need to cut off some existing comb and re-attach it to one of the bars. I need to find a hair clip to do this. I think I might make a video when I do, for your amusement, of course. Maybe something like this, except I'll be wearing my oversize gloves:

I promise my video, if I make one, will be better than this. You can't see anything he actually does with the comb on camera, but the part around the 12:30 mark where he's messing with the comb and it  falls off the bar sort of made me feel better about myself. 

In summary... Sighted on this inspection: workers, drones, capped drone brood, pollen stores, nectar stores, honey (?), friendly neighbors watching me work the hive. Not sighted: the queen (hiding, or absent, as usual), worker brood of any kind (probably because I couldn't get more bars out.) Need to do: put guides on remaining bars, cut out one comb and re-attach straight, continue to beg bees to not cross comb the entire hive.
Lesson learned: need to address these things earlier. I thought I had more time, but my bees are efficient and now I have an even bigger mess.

Do I look like I know what I'm doing?

Photo by Marc D.M. Croswell

If Bach Had Been A Beekeeper

Charles Tomlinson

If Bach had been a beekeeper

he would have heard

all those notes

suspended above one another

in the air of his ear

as the differentiated swarm returning

to the exact hive,

topping up the cells

with the honey of C major,

food for the listening generations, 

key to their comfort

and solace of their distress

as they return and return

to those counterpointed levels

of hovering wings where

movement is dance

and the air itself

a scented garden

 

Heart to Heart

Dear Bees,

I know I should not anthropomorpize you... you are insects, not people...but sometimes, I can't help myself. I like to think that maybe, in some way, you have emotions. Because if you have some sort of emotions, that means that maybe you could understand my emotions, and these days, I really wish there was someone or something that could truly relate to me. The truth is that humans, as much as we try, can never truly, fully understand one another. We are limited in that we are very individual creatures. Yes, we have the power of speech, but sometimes I think even that limits us in some ways. We can talk and talk, with word after word after word, and still leave each other totally confused. Sometimes even when we think we understand, in reality, we couldn't be further from knowing the real truth that someone was trying to explain to us. It's mostly just educated guessing between us humans. We are ever limited by the life experiences we have had, the impressions they have left on us, and our ability to imagine the reality of others.

I don't think you can comprehend, my little apis mellifera, just how beautiful your communication is. I recently read about the queen and her court in the hive. Inside the hive, the queen moves around the combs laying eggs. She is surrounded by a court of worker bees that feed and groom her, but not all bees in the court are feeding or grooming. Some of those bees are just touching. They touch the queen, and then they touch other workers to spread the queen's pheromones. Those workers touch other bees, further spreading the pheromones and confirming with every bee in the hive that all is well. There is order. Things are okay. We are safe. Tens of thousands of you are living just to support each other. You exist as individual bees, but you could not exist alone. The only way you can live on is as part of a single, greater organism. 

Sometimes there is nothing I would like more than to be able to communicate like you, my bees. I wish that, through touch, I could let those around me know that everything is okay. I would touch someone I care about, and then, through every subsequent touch with others, I would let them know that all was well. Things are okay. There is order. We are safe. I wish that through touch alone, we could come to truly understand each other, that through touch we could shed the limitations of our own realities and simply just "know" what is real - for you, for me, for all of us.  

There are limits to your beautifully simple communication, though, dear bees. With a little puff of smoke I can temporarily mask pheromones that you use to communicate. And lately I feel like my own life is filled with smoke. Communication is blocked. I try and try, but there is confusion. There is an absence of understanding. My heart breaks with each reminder of how very limited we are in our ability to understand not just each other as human beings, but also the world around us.

So, I will keep watching you. Maybe if I watch long enough, I will learn more of your secrets. And maybe when a few of you land on me as I work with the hive and your tiny feet and antennae brush against my hands, we will share a moment of true understanding. 

 Photo by Marc D.M. Croswell

Love, 
Sarah

Episode 4: The One Where the Bees Are Annoyed

This past Sunday was rainy, cool, and otherwise horrible on multiple levels, so I did not get to inspect the hive. The weather broke, though, as it does, and yesterday was beautiful. Since it was a work day, I didn't head out until after 6. I skipped the extra shirt and leggings under the jeans this time and was much more comfortable.

I seem to have gotten the hang of the smoker now, and had it going with minimal effort this time. After a little puff at the entrance, I pulled off the top of the hive. While watching it earlier in the day, I noticed some ant activity on one side. They seemed to be attracted to the dead bees that had be squished under the lid at some point. I Googled "ants in beehive" and the general consensus was that ants are annoying, but not really a big problem, so there is not much you need to do. I was happy to see that they weren't actually inside the hive. I snapped a picture and when I went back to look, I discovered that the ants were doing something. Anyone have any guesses as to what they are moving around here? Ant larvae? Bee larvae? Something else?

What...the...hell?

When I went to remove the last few top bars before the follower board, they were glued in with propolis. I popped them off with my hive tool and wondered about this. I decided to take it as a sign that things were going well. The bees are currently building comb on bar 7 that appears straight. I pulled it out and inspected it with no problem. Last week when I checked bar 6 it seemed a bit crooked, so I tried flipping it. This backfired on me because the bees just attached it to bar 5, so I wasn't even able to pull bar 6 out by itself. I could have cut them apart, but I didn't want to cause too much damage, so I pulled bars 5 and 6 together. There was open and capped brood, pollen stores, and nectar stores. Bar 4 was not cross combed and upon inspection I saw some capped drone cells. Some of my recent readings suggest cutting this comb out to help control Varroa, but with such a new hive, I think I will just let it be. There are conflicting opinions on this and I don't think I've decided just yet. 

Bars 2 and 3 were also cross combed, and instead of just letting them be, I decided to pull them out. In hindsight, I think this is what really set the bees off into a defensive mode. There was much more buzzing around my head and one bee landed on my glove. I could tell it was a guard bee just from its behavior. I was hoping it would just fly away, but it continued to buzz and crawl around as I put bars 2 and 3 back into the hive. In an effort to dislodge her, I shook my hand, and then was stung in the glove. I actually watched it happen with some sort of strange fascination tinged with guilt. At least I remembered to smoke the area where the stinger was left to mask the alarm pheromones and avoid attracting any more annoyed bees. They just seemed much more aware of and concerned about my presence this time. Numerous bees were buzzing my head during the entire time I was working the hive. I think another contributing factor was the later hour. Less workers are out foraging later in the day. After the sting (which only punctured the glove, not my hand) I really had to resist the urge to drop everything and run. Since I started with the bees, I've really gotten my tendency to run and swat when I hear buzzing under control. I think I probably still flinch a bit, but I keep still. Seeing that bee sting me was a real challenge to my self control, but I managed to keep it together long enough to close things back up.

So, sighted on this inspection: capped brood, open brood, drone brood, adult drones, adult workers, pollen stores, and nectar stores. Not sighted: her Majesty the Queen (still!) but I choose to believe she is there. I'm starting to think finding the queen is like seeing a unicorn. 

When I was doing some initial research, I came upon Two Honeys, a couple of women working both traditional and top bar hives in another Cincinnati neighborhood. I got in touch with them a couple of weeks ago to ask about mentoring and the possibility of getting a second hive. After talking to Liz, I thought I might be okay to continue going it alone, but seeing how much cross comb is now there with only 7 bars of comb and my inability to find the queen are causing me to re-assess that decision. I think I may need some help after all. Liz said she could come by and work with me for an hour for $25. The advice of someone experienced may be priceless. 

In the mean time, I continue to enjoy watching the bees. Having this hive has made me appreciate my backyard in a totally new way. 

Photo by Marc D.M. Croswell 

It is more of a sanctuary now than ever. 

They thought death was worth it, but I 
Have a self to recover, a queen. 
Is she dead, is she sleeping? 
Where has she been, 
With her lion-red body, her wings of glass? 

-Sylvia Plath, Stings

Bee Viewing

Dear Bees,


Early this week, my next door neighbor was burning brush in her back yard about six feet away from your hive. It was evening and all you worker ladies were very active around the entrance. I was worried that you were getting ready to get the hell out of there because you thought there was a dangerous fire approaching. Luckily, winds kicked up and a storm rolled in, and all is still well in the magical backyard hive. 


You continue to amaze me with your progress and your gentleness. I know that each of you has five eyes, and there are tens of thousands of bees in a healthy hive. That's probably at least 50,000 eyes in that hive. What do you see? Do you see me when I  come sit and watch you almost every day? On the days when I'm sad and the days when I'm smiling? Do you see that sometimes I have a visitor? Do you see the people of the neighborhood moving in and out of their homes? Do you see the squirrels and the birds? Do you see flowers growing in slow motion? 


I like to watch how you land on the landing board at the entrance of the hive. Some of you are very graceful and calculated, flying straight into the entrance without even landing on the board first. Others seem to be a bit more like me, coming in at full speed and crashing onto the landing board, sometimes rolling upside down, legs kicking with all their might until you are right side up again. Since you came from a package, you aren't all related bees. I wonder if this grace is an inherited trait, and if the bees being born now in the hive will have it. 


Life is sort of strange lately, dear bees, and you are constant. This is one of many things I love about you. Now I look at every patch of clover as I walk by with the dog and I smile when I see you there. Even though I don't think one can truly own bees, I feel as though you are mine.


Love,
Sarah

Episode 3: The Tale of the Crooked Comb

I could have also titled this post "The One Where I Burned Myself", "I Finally Lit The Smoker", or "In Which The Beekeeper is Drenched in Sweat", but I'm trying to keep the focus on the bees.
It is a beautiful Sunday here and my bees have been happily occupying their top bar hive for 2 weeks now. It was time for another visit to take out the sugar feeder and check and see how things were going. I tried using cardboard to light and fuel the smoker this week and had a lot more success.

There is my smoke. Finally.

So once the smoker was going, I gathered up my things and headed to the hive. As I began to arrange my assortment of tools, including camera, my finger started burning, and I realized that I had my goatskin-gloved finger touching the hot smoker. No stings today, people, but I burned the shit out of myself. If you know me, this will not surprise you one bit. This did not dampen my excitement, though, so after smoking the entrance I proceeded to start opening up the hive. 

After having challenges replacing all the bars last week, I did some research. Seems that this is a fairly common occurrence with top bar hive since wood expands and contracts with the weather. Everything I read said it was nothing to be concerned about, and that it was fine just to remove a bar behind the follower board (space where the bees are not living yet) So I did that after I got the roof off my hive. I pulled out a few bars and took a peek. Here is the view:

Hello, my friends. Just like last week, they did not seem too concerned about me or what I was doing. Last week was good for my confidence, and I was much less anxious. However, I had on my bee jacket with veil over a tank top and long sleeve shirt, and on the bottom a pair of leggings under a pair of jeans (in case they try to sting my legs.) While it was giving me confidence that I didn't need to worry about stings, my attire was also causing me to heat up considerably, and it wasn't long before sweat was dripping down my face. Next time, fewer layers. I need to get over my sting-phobia anyway. 

Last week, there was comb on 3 bars. The man who built my hive told me they would have comb on 6 to 7 bars in 4 weeks. Well my bees must be over-achievers, because they are building on bar 6 already. I saw quite a few drones flying in and out of the hive during the afternoons this week. I noticed a few on each comb, but nothing too concerning. It also looked like they were constructing the beginnings of a queen cell on one comb, which I read is normal for my race of bees. So I have decided not to worry. I looked for the queen on all the combs and was not able to spot her, but I was able to see brood. 

Newest comb, bar six

A full comb - bar 2 or 3 I think

You can see capped cells and pollen stores in these pictures. Everything on the combs looked good, however, quite a few were starting to attach to each other and one bar was stuck to the side of the hive. When I pulled that bar, some nectar started dripping out. Sorry, bees. So, the beautiful straight comb of my dreams was not there, but it was not the total disaster I have read about in some books and web sites. I think I am going to pull a few bars and make comb guides using popsicle sticks and beeswax and see if that helps them keep things straighter. 

I had to re-light the smoker before closing up the hive, and managed to do so without burning myself again. Once I open up space between the bars, the bees just want to peek their little heads out and see what is going on, and I need the smoke to force them back down into the hive. 

Peekers, along with one bee  to the left helping herself to some of the nectar that dripped off the damage comb.

Overall, it was  a successful and interesting visit today. The bees are very tolerant of me and I am glad. I'm still slightly concerned about my failure to locate a queen, but since there was brood I'm not too worried I guess. As long as the drone population stays under control, I think it will be okay. All I can do is be patient, as with many things in life. 

Thoughts run through my head at a million miles and hour, but hearing the soft buzz brings me into the moment. It echoes in my head for the rest of the day.

Still with me, so far

Dear Bees,
Thank you for paying no mind to this clumsy beekeeper on Sunday as I made my first visit to the hive since you first moved in. I suppose seeing me outside your hive almost every day has helped you start to grow accustomed to my presence. There were a few of you who let it be known that I was in bee territory, but mercifully no stings. I am grateful for your gentleness and tolerance. Watching you makes me feel peaceful. I promise, I'll get more graceful as we go along. 
Love,
Sarah

The Honey Bee's Whisper
by Sarah Hegner 5/1/12

It must be too much television
Exaggerated sound effects of
Angry swarms when
In reality it is a subtle murmur
Softly buzzing.
With five eyes you have seen
The heart of the honeysuckle
The secrets of the sunflower
The anguish of an apple blossom.
Can you feel the
pounding heart of this
clumsy beekeeper
Who burdens your wings with
her deepest regrets
Sends her hopes on your
Tiny backs
As you fly towards the sky?
She looks to you for reason,
And your wings whisper
"Shhhh"