Still Here

I'm back after an unintentional hiatus. I think about blogging a lot, but life is just so full...full of things I have to do, or should do, or moments where I am just frozen and overwhelmed and then do nothing at all.

But I'm still here, and so are the bees. The chickens are here, too, and now taking up more of my time and making me feel neglectful of my lovely little bees that go about their life's work whether I'm paying attention or not. They don't anticipate my visits, or notice my absence. The bees go on living and dying.

I haven't been totally absent, though. I've been checking in on my friends to make sure all is well. My concern grew last month after their failure to start building more new comb, so after seeking advice from a trusted online group dedicated to natural beekeeping in top bar hives, I started feeding back the honey I had harvested. The bees took it happily and I did start to see a bit of progress, more honey storage, and more activity in general. I think it was the boost they needed. Unfortunately, though, it also brought something else to light: the very first pest I've seen in my hive. When I went in to refill the feeder and lifted it off the base, I saw a few small black beetles scatter. A quick online search confirmed my suspicions. It was the small hive beetle. These beetles made there way here from Africa during the 90's, and they love honey. They live inside hives where their larvae tunnel through honeycombs and can cause honey to ferment in hives with heavy infestation.

The bees have their ways of controlling things, though. I read that bees will actually corral the beetles into "jails" built of comb on the sides of the hive. The beetles, not to be outdone, have figured out a way to trick nurse bees into feeding them. In the end, they are only a serious problem for weak hives. Is my hive weak? Possibly. I took my worries to the online group again, and a total stranger in Texas sent me some of the traps she uses in her hives. It was such a kind gesture from a total stranger. I have one of the traps in the hive now, hopefully killing those stupid beetles so my bees can worry about getting things ready for the coming winter instead of trying to corral beetles.

It's time for me to start seriously feeding so they can build up enough stores to make it through winter. I've heard lots of different stats about probability of a hive making it through winter. At the moment I'm concerned that my hive does not have nearly enough honey stored up to last, so I'm going to start feeding in a major way to hopefully help make up for that. I also read that you can leave a sheet with granulated sugar in the hive over winter or make "bee candy" as emergency food. I know there is chance that they won't make it. I suppose I'm mentally preparing myself if that happens, but I can't say I won't be pretty sad if it does.

Of course I could start over with a new package or a swarm next spring, but how wonderful would it be to see my hive continue to grow from what I started from a small box this past April? We shall see. At the moment they've only built on two new bars (as of last inspection). They finally started building on the new comb guides and thankfully things seem nice and straight.

The bees are noticeably more defensive and irritable, which is normal for this time of year, but doesn't help me. The less I suit up and open the hive, the harder it gets for me to go back in there. Earlier in summer I had gotten to a point where I was not nervous at all while working with them, but a couple of weeks ago I had a bee chase me all the way back to the house and it unnerved me a bit. Knowing that they're going to be more protective now of their precious stores doesn't do much to boost my courage, but I try to focus and trust the jacket to save me. I'm not sure if they could sting through my jeans. Hopefully that's not something I have to find out.

In other news, the chicken coop is now complete, and my little peeps are officially moved in. They are 7 weeks old now and not little at all any more. There are a couple that are very wary of me, but one is quite friendly and will sit on my shoulder. My dad and I still have to finish the permanent outside run and add nest boxes, but for now I've set up a temporary area where they can come outside. They love to come out and scratch on the ground looking for bugs. I let them out last weekend as I was painting and could barely bring myself to close them back in again because they looked so happy. A corner of the pen was sunny, and they had all flopped down to sunbathe, legs and wings outstretched in all directions. They are endlessly amusing. I can't wait until they're bigger and I can let them out in the yard on weekends when I'm home.

Buttercup

Fall is most definitely here, and we are all making some sort of preparations. Take your honey back, my dear bees. Take these golden liquid memories of summer to sustain you through the cold winter days.

Life goes on in the backyard.


    Then, when the late year wastes,
    When night falls early and the noon is dulled
    And the last warm days are over,
    Unlock the store and to your table bring
    Essence of every blossom of the spring.
    And if, when wind has never ceased to blow
    All night, you wake to roofs and trees becalmed
    In level wastes of snow,
    Bring out the Lime-tree-honey, the embalmed
    Soul of a lost July, or Heather-spiced
    Brown-gleaming comb wherein sleeps crystallised
    All the hot perfume of the heathery slope.
    And, tasting and remembering, live in hope.
-From "Honey Harvest" by Martin Armstrong

Navigate

The year the bees came
Was a warm spring
Hot nights when it was easy
To transform

The year the bees came
Was the summer my tears boiled
I might have flown on their wings
Had it not been for this weight
of sadness
They navigate the horizon
And I wander
Lost

-SEH 7/12

Episodes 11 & 12: The One with the Wardrobe Malfunction

...And also "The Backyard: It's not just for bees anymore."

Well, yes, it's been a while. Even though I haven't been blogging, I have been checking in on the bees. After my initial inspection post cross-comb correction, I didn't really see much in the way of new comb, but I chalked that up to the fact that the bees were busy rebuilding the other areas in the hive that had been torn up and rearranged.

A couple weeks later, I went back to take a peek and was somewhat surprised to find that they still hadn't built new comb. The brood pattern was looking really good, though, so I wasn't too worried. I think the nectar flow is slowing down now, and I still have yet to feed back any honey that was harvested earlier this summer. I thought I would give it some more time. So when I opened up the hive again today, I was concerned when once again, there was almost nothing in the way of new comb. 

One of the bars where comb was cut off. We stuck a small piece on which is what you see protruding. This has not changed in over 2 weeks.  

"Oh, look at this nice comb guide. Let's not build anything on it."

So, what are they doing? They are raising lots of brood. I have seen tons of bees coming in with pollen, which is another indicator that they are in brood-rearing mode. Something else I noticed was the lack of drone comb and drones in general. I've seen absolutely zero drones the last two times I checked the hive, and no drone comb at all. When I first started, there was always some drone comb. I'm wondering now if that was because I had a laying worker instead of a queen bee. Anyhow, it seems they've kicked the boys out for the time being. I got a pretty cool shot today of uncapped brood in various stages of development. 

Neato

The bees were definitely storing some honey above the brood nest, which is a good sign. And guess what else??? I saw the queen again. And not only did I see her, but I got a picture! I know you're probably not as excited as me, but here she is in all her royal majesty:

She's right in the middle, with a larger body and bit more reddish-gold in color

As I went about working the hive and pulling out each bar to check, I felt something strange. It's still hot, but it seemed like I was getting more of a breeze than usual. I looked down only to find that the zipper on my bee jacket was broken, and it was unzipped halfway up from the bottom, not giving me much in the way of protection. And as luck would have it, under the jacket I was wearing the color they say you should never wear when working with bees: black. So what did I do? I stopped to take a picture for you, of course, and then I kept on going. I thought about stepping a way for a minute to try and fix it, but I would have had to take off the veil, and the bees were being fairly cooperative. 

Walter T Kelly, this is a FAIL!

I'm a bit concerned about this happening again, and also rather disappointed considering that I bought this jacket in April. Luckily things ended up fine. 

When I started this bee adventure, I never imagined that I would want more hives so soon, but I do. Next year I'm sure I'll add at least one. But this year I have another exciting new addition: chickens! I'm not sure when the chicken idea started. I've loved animals since I was a kid, and the dream of living on a farm was always part of my horse obsession. When I started researching backyard bees, I also came across a lot of information about backyard farming, homesteading, and urban chickens. It sparked my interest and I began to do more research. In early July I went to a workshop in Indiana about keeping backyard chickens. The woman who gave the workshop brought four of her own hens along. One of them laid an egg during class, and afterwards we even got to hold them. After that day I knew that I definitely wanted chickens. They are really fascinating creatures with so much personality, and I loved the idea of getting fresh eggs from my backyard. 

I am lucky not only to have a supportive family, but also a family full of skilled and handy people. My dad drew up the plans for a coop, and the two of us along with my grandpa have been working on it for the past two weekends. It's going to be a nice sized coop with an attached enclosed run for the chickens. At the end of this I will not only have this awesome place for my chickens to live, but also some new knowledge and skills. Hopefully it will bring me one step closer to being able to build things myself. It's so awesome. I also really appreciate being able to spend that time with my dad and grandpa. It will make me happy when I see it everyday and know that we built it together.

The beginnings of the coop on the left, and my beehive on the right. 

Last week I got my chicks and they are incredibly cute. I could watch them for hours. I took a video, but I must warn you that my video skills are basically nonexistent. You might still want to watch though, just to hear their super cute happy peeping. And yes, that is an egg they're eating. Supposedly it's good for them. Rosie has a barking cameo about halfway through. 

Right after I took this video, a bee flew into the garage. I think it was on a kamikaze mission. I do feel slightly neglectful of my other creatures now that I have these cute little chicks, but I'm sure things will calm down and I will find a routine that allows plenty of time for all of them. 

Lots of excitement going on around here. I love it. After that chicken workshop, we walked across the street to see an all organic, self-sustaining farm that was also home to three flocks of chickens. Walking through the fields with rows of vegetables, pastures full of cows, and into barns full of chickens, I thought my heart would explode with happiness. It reminded me of the feeling I get when I walk into a barn with horses, or driving through the mountains in Oregon. There is just something there that kindles the flame of happiness in me. Something about those places feels like "home." And right now I can't have a horse or a barn, or relocate the Cascades to Ohio, so I'm building this dream in my backyard with bees, chickens, a compost tumbler, and next year, a garden full of fruits and vegetables. 

I think someday I'll probably have that farm I dream about, but at least today I can have a piece of it in my suburban (well, practically urban) backyard. Knowing that I have all this life around me is pretty amazing. Knowing that with some luck and some hard work I can keep it going and even expand and grow gives me a hope and a happiness that I struggle to describe. I'm looking forward to telling you all about it. 

I've stayed in the front yard all my life.

I want a peek at the back

Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows.

A girl gets sick of a rose.

I want to go in the back yard now

-From "A Song in the Front Yard" by Gwendolyn Brooks

The Memories in Honey

Dear Bees,

It seems that in righting your crooked combs, we have have set things right in the hive overall. I'm so glad the mysterious queen finally made an appearance. I wish you could tell me what happened to the original queen, but maybe you just knew she was not your own. One special egg was laid and fed royal jelly so that your very own queen could emerge and reign over the  hive. It makes me smile.

I know that I still have quite a bit of your honey. Don't worry, my little friends. I am going to give it back to you. I just have to figure out the best method of delivery. I've had a little for myself, and I must say, it's very flavorful. A friend of mine who tried it said that the first flavor had a hint of freshly cut hay. 

I wonder if when you eat your honey you can taste each flower and tree that played a part in its making. When you taste it, do you feel the breeze that took each worker on her path to find nectar? Do you see the color of each flower for just one second? Part of the honey making process involves worker bees passing the nectar back and forth so that some of the moisture is lost. When you pass that nectar along, do you pass the memory of your flight, the way the light was hitting the leaves, or the scent of the flower? I guess those jars of honey in my house must hold thousands of tiny memories of flying and of warm winds. 

These are the things I think about when I watch you coming and going. I really wish I knew where that brilliant red pollen comes from. On warm days, I see you on the front of the hive, moving up and down rhythmically. I learned that this is called "washboarding," and it is one of the many bee mysteries that no one has figured out yet. No one knows why you do this dance, but there is speculation that it is a social activity. Maybe you are giving thanks. They say that only healthy, happy bees will do this. I hope it means that you are happy. 

I hope you're still keeping things straight in there, and raising all your babies to make the hive strong. I suppose it's been a bit of a rough patch for us, but we'll get through it. 

Love,
Sarah

"What you hold, may you [always] hold,
What you do, may you [always] do and never abandon.
But with swift pace, light step,
Unswerving feet,
So that even your steps stir up no dust,
May you go forward
Securely, joyfully, and swiftly,
On the path of prudent happiness,
Not believing anything,
Not agreeing with anything
That would dissuade you from this resolution
Or that would place a stumbling block for you on the way...."

- Clare of Assisi"The Second Letter to Agnes of Prague." 

Episode 10: Queenright

Finally! Three months after installing my first package of bees, I found the queen. Today during my hive inspection, I began pulling out the third bar from the front and heard a louder buzz come up from the hive as I lifted it up. That was my first clue. I thought: she must be here. Sure enough, there she was in her royal majesty, looking just like a queen bee should. She was large and golden and just perfect.

When I bought my package in April, I paid a little extra for a marked queen. The queen I received had a white dot on her back. I remember thinking that she didn't really look like what I imagined a queen would (much smaller), but I just went with it. Well, guess what my queen bee does not have? That's right, no white dot to be found. So, either what I got wasn't really a queen (unlikely) or, the queen I got died or was killed. My hive made and raised its very own, homegrown queen bee. This also means she probably mated with local drones, so my hive is not really Russian bees but a sort of local mutt strand. Although it sounds bad, it's actually better for me. Local feral bees have survived the parasites that are taking out so many hives these days, and their resistant genes have been passed to my queen and then to my hive. I'm thrilled.

The corrections from a few weeks ago continue to look good. We cut out a lot of honey comb at that time, but it also seemed that there wasn't much brood to be found. Today, every bar has brood on it, as well as capped honey. I saw no drone comb at all. The bees also don't seem to be building much in the way of new comb. While I'm slightly concerned about their honey stores and wondering if I need to start feeding the harvested honey back, I'm happy to see a much stronger brood pattern. I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that the comb is now all straightened out.

Liz should be coming back in the next couple of weeks, so I look forward to being able to ask her about these things. My gut feeling says that all is as should be in the hive now, but I want to make sure that my bees have what they need to make it through winter.

So I have learned in these past weeks from my bees, that sometimes you have to cut things away in order to set them right. It may be difficult and painful, but the result will be something better and healthier.

Here's to you, my bees, and to me... And most of all, to health.

Episode 9: Progress

Since we finally got a break with the weather today, I decided to go out and check on the bees. I hadn't opened the hives in almost two weeks, since we made all the adjustments to fix the cross comb, and I was a little nervous about what I would find. I was also afraid that the bees would react more strongly to me messing with them after being traumatized. Thankfully that was not the case.

I can't imagine working my bees in the weather we've been having. Getting suited up and working with temperatures in the mid 80's was hard enough. I had a tank top on under my bee jacket, and I was dripping sweat the whole time. I'm not really sure how beekeepers in places like Florida, Texas, and other southern states do it.

Upon opening up the hive, I was super excited to see that there was no new cross combing! All the combs we had straightened out were still straight, and I was able to pull out all the bars and inspect them with no problem at all. There was a lot of brood and some capped honey on all the bars. I looked for the queen briefly, but she still managed to elude me somehow.

I took out a small bar at the entrance that was but there to give the bees space but seemed to be causing more problems (they were building comb on it.) I was pretty proud of myself for operating a phillips head screwdriver while wearing over sized gloves and dripping sweat.

Just about an hour ago, I looked outside and saw a lot of activity at the entrance. I'm not sure if it was a lot of bees coming back to the hive before it rains, or if this is an orientation flight. Orientation is when new worker bees fly in figure eights outside the hive entrance to sort of memorize the way the hive and the horizon look so they can find their way back after they go out foraging for nectar and pollen. Sorry about my lack of video skills, but here is a short clip of what I saw.

Pretty cool, I think. I feel so peaceful watching them, and they don't pay much attention to me. I think they're used to my presence now.

In other backyard news, my dad said he would help me build a chicken coop. I can't tell you how excited I am! It's another step on my way to having my own little backyard farm. I've been doing lots of reading, too, and next weekend I'm going to a workshop about backyard chickens. So hopefully before the end of the summer, this blog will be about birds and bees!

Things have been a bit personally tumultuous for me lately, but my little winged friends are a constant presence. I know I can count on their coming and going each day just like the rising and setting of the sun. It's funny how little flying insects somehow seem to anchor me in a way.



For Joy's Sake, From My Hands
by Ossip Mandelstam
For joy's sake, from my hands,
take some honey and some sun,
as Persephone's bees told us.


Not to be freed, the unmoored boat.
Not to be heard, the fur-booted shadows
Not to be silenced, life's dark terrors.


Now we only have kisses 
dry and bristling like bees,
that die when they leave the hive.


Rustling in clear glades of night,
in the dense forests of Taygetos,
time feeds them; honeysuckle; mint.


For joy's sake, take my strange gift,
This simple thread of dead, dried bees, 
turned honey in the sun.


-

Episode 8: Beautifully Ruthless

Finally, a long overdue recap of my last hive inspection, where I was joined by Liz of TwoHoneys. After lots of fretting and hand wringing, I finally accepted the fact that I needed help and contacted Liz. Sorry again for the lack of pictures, but without Marc, and with my own hands covered in honey, I was not able to get any action shots.

Temperatures had been (and now are again) in the mid to high 90s. In this heat, comb becomes very soft and it is difficult, not to mention risky, to try to work in your hives. Luckily we had a break in the weather early last week, and Liz was able to come over on Tuesday. She arrived at about 4:30 and was exactly as I expected: smiling, kind, and had a truck full of bee-related gear and supplies. I told her about my troubles getting my smoker lighted, and she shared a tip on making starters out of corrugated cardboard. She also suggested getting a torch from Home Depot to make things easier. (All I want for Christmas is...a torch. Oh, and maybe a chicken coop.)

Once we were both suited up, we got down to business with the hive. As expected, the cross comb was pretty bad. Once we had pulled out a couple bars, Liz realized that we were going to be doing some major surgery (chopping off some comb) and that, ready or not, I was getting a honey harvest. The first few bars were all honey, and some of it was cut off so we could push the remaining comb into a straight line parallel with the top bar. We left one comb with uncapped honey inside the hive on the bottom so the bees could take that honey back. The rest that we were cutting off was put into a bucket for harvesting. The comb built on my hair clip fix bar from two weeks ago had fallen off :( Liz told me that she has tried that method before, too, and it didn't work well for her either. To re-attach comb, she just uses large rubber bands around the entire comb and bar.

It became apparent to me once we started working (or, when Liz started working) that one of my problems is my fear or reluctance to hurt bees while moving things around inside the hive. She said that "sometimes, you have to be ruthless" and just get down to work.  So, yes, more bees than I would have like died while were fixing issues that were the result of my inexperience. It made me sad. But she also said that when you keep bees, you're going to kill a few for the greater good. So, in being a bit more "ruthless", I can avoid situations like this in the future.

We carried on further into the hive, pulling the bars apart one by one. We finally reached the brood area and cut out some drone comb which was thrown away. Since the only purpose of drones is to mate with queens, they don't really serve much of a purpose in the hive. Their larger size also makes them targets for one of the worst pests plaguing honey bees: the varroa mite.

I think there were about 3 combs of mostly brood. We looked for the queen while we were working, but didn't spot her. There was worker brood, though, which means that she was there somewhere. This may have been when she slipped out the front entrance. I'll never know for sure. Anyway, apparently my bees are super honey-makers, but my brood nest seems a little weak. Finally, we got all the bars separated and comb straightened out, for the most part. Liz suggested some adjustments and told me that my popsicle stick guides weren't going to cut it, so I need to make a trip to Home Depot this week and get some materials to make better guides. Once it was all said and done, there was honey everywhere. Luckily, the bees can drink it up and put it back into combs for themselves, so all is not lost. Makes me feel a little better about the combs I've broken in the past. Upon closing up the hive, we noticed the unusual activity at the entrance I mentioned in my earlier posts:

 Unprofessional photo taken by yours truly. "WTF" - the Bees

There you can see tons of bees clustered on the front of the hive. I'm still not sure if it was because the queen was outside, or if they were just really upset, but for a while things were pretty dicey and I thought they might hit the road (or the air?) Luckily, they stayed with me and things seem to be back to normal. Unfortunately temps are back up again, but I need to get back in there and see how things are going. I may end up doing it earlier in the morning one of these days. 

Now for the fun part: harvesting the honey. 

 Harvested comb before crushing

One of the cool things about a top bar hive is that you don't need any special equipment to extract the honey. You can either harvest cut comb honey (honey sold to be eaten with the wax, still inside the comb) or use the crush and strain method. To crush and strain, I just got a potato masher and mashed all of this comb and honey into a big, gooey mess. All the instructional videos I watched said you should put down cardboard where you work to help contain the mess. "Oh, I don't need that," I thought "I'm not going to make a mess." Oh, how wrong I was. Somehow, honey goes everywhere, whether or not you intended for it to happen. I'm still finding sticky spots in my kitchen almost a week later. Anyhow, once you have your crushed honey/comb mix, you pour it into a sieve so that the clean honey drains into a pot, leaving the wax and other debris behind.  Something else I scoffed at while watching YouTube tutorials was that there would be bees in the honey. There weren't lots in mine, but I think there were at least two dead and two or three alive that I took out of the pot before straining (a couple of which I later found crawling around my kitchen, covered in honey. Sort of sad.) 

It was so great to be able to meet Liz and learn from her. I hope it is just the beginning of some additional education for me in the world of bees and top bar hives. It was sort of a difficult experience, too, though. I hated seeing so many bees die, especially because of something I could have prevented if I had known better. I know it happens, but to me, each one is still a life. So, I will learn to be a little more ruthless, but I will still try to work as carefully as possible and avoid injuring my bees. They spend their short lives working to make honey and care for each other, as part of one amazing, greater organism. The bees are teaching me so much, and I never want to take a single one of their lives for granted.

Last night, as I was sleeping,

I dreamt - marvelous error! -

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

-Last Night by Antonio Machado