From A to Bee (14 page)

  My turn came and despite keen eyes analysing every move I made I was fortunate to get it lit first time and the smoke quickly followed with a few rather too enthusiastic puffs. A couple of burning embers did fly out but no damage was done. It feels so stupid to write, but I felt both proud and also strangely masculine. Man must have fire, and all that! I have to say though, it wasn't as easy as it looks and I would say only about 50 per cent of us got the smokers lit first time but it was great fun trying.

  Sadly after a couple of hours I had to leave as they were all still there honing their new-found skills with enthusiasm. There is one thing that I really took away from the day: it is absolutely crucial to join an association. The fee I paid Reigate Beekeepers' on an annual basis was worth it just for that session. There were about thirty new beekeepers there and I would guess about seven more that were experienced beekeepers on hand to help out, answer questions and make tea and coffee (how fantastic that it was made over a Calor gas makeshift stove with a giant, almost witch-like, kettle – always makes it taste better!). There cannot be too many hobbies or pastimes which you can learn with that degree of help from more experienced practitioners.

  In summary, I learned a lot about bees. I learned that despite thirty years of running away from them, I could actually stand in an area surrounded by them. Ultimately, I learned that beekeeping really is a way of life, that people are truly passionate about the little things and are so keen to help others realise this same feeling. What a truly unique morning.

This weekend was about Dad and I building a beehive from scratch, which sadly in the end was never to materialise. When Dad and I looked over the plans the bodge was never going to work. We were both very concerned at the level of detail and the fact that your measurements had to be exact and angles perfect. This is not something we are particularly good at.

  Instead of building a hive I decided to pop next door with Dad and see Anne, my parents' neighbour, and her bees. Fortunately Anne was outside and she recognised me immediately.

  She was as lovely as I remembered and we had a great talk about her bees. She is currently running five hives, a mixture of the beautiful WBC hives and Nationals, which I could see in the distance in the same elevated position I remembered from childhood.

  Anne insisted we go on a tour and I gladly followed, with a newly brewed mug of tea in hand. We approached her hives with none of the protection of yesterday's association experience. It was therefore rather nerve-wracking, and I felt my heart thumping as we walked within 3 feet of the hives. Positioning ourselves behind them, we had a lovely view of the garden but also a stunning view of the bees flying in and out of the little entrances at the front of the hive. With the fine weather it was obviously warm enough to start foraging and it was fun to see them starting their journeys or coming in loaded up with pollen.

  Anne was so confident in her movements, even lifting off a roof at one point to peer inside; I didn't dare look and kept back. She invited me to approach the side of a hive and I tentatively agreed. Moving as slowly and carefully as I could, I crouched down to watch the bees landing before entering the hive. I was not even a couple of metres from the bees and without a suit but it was amazing seeing these bees with pollen loaded on their back legs landing on the landing board and walking up into the hive. I got to fully appreciate why people enjoy sitting by the hives just watching the bees coming and going. It was incredibly relaxing to watch.

  Anne and I strolled back across the garden, and despite her giving me a bit of a Spanish Inquisition about my motivations for starting, it was only when I discussed the courses and the reading that I think she realised how serious I was about doing it properly. I do feel that more experienced beekeepers are very concerned at the wave of new beekeepers coming into the hobby and that they start it all up correctly. This is the second time I have felt like I have had an interview from a more experienced beekeeper and it is like they are extremely protective of the bees much as a parent is of a child. It cannot be a bad thing.

  To finish off our little tour, Anne then showed me her bee shed where she stocked all her equipment. It was perfect. A proper old wooden shed, well-used and characterful – the incredible sight was inside though. It was filled, floor to ceiling, with beehive parts. I was now able to identify most parts so could see brood boxes and supers everywhere, not to mention frames which pretty much filled every tiny gap left. With several bees flying around for good measure it really was the perfect bee shed. I must get one of these!

  Regretfully I had to get back home for lunch but it was lovely to see Anne again and I received lots of useful advice, including the possible need for four supers per hive (the supers are situated just above the brood box where the queen lays her eggs, and are where the bees deposit their honey), whereas I had only ordered two. Most of all it was just nice to see yet another friendly face willing to help me along on my journey.

I received a funny tweet from @kezdiman, who was describing his friend who is based in Transylvania and is obviously a large-scale beekeeper. It kind of expanded on a theme from @cochraig earlier but really brings home the differences we all face:

'100+ hives in the Vrancea mountain wilderness. Armed with 3 dogs, an electric fence, he is on a 24-hour vigil 4 bears!'

My only issue will be green woodpeckers – apparently they might get hungry in winter, peck a hole in the side of a hive and raid it for honey – pales in comparison!

I have created a blog, I have a Facebook and a Twitter page, I have commented on forum sites about being a beginner beekeeper and my flat-packed hive arrives on Friday – hurrah! But there is still one slight problem: how am I going to get some bees? Are my efforts all a pipe dream? I thought I would have my bees by now. I really should have got this organised earlier.

  One of my options is to buy a nucleus of bees from another beekeeper or company, and so I rooted around for the advert I had seen ages ago, as that particular beekeeper wasn't too far away. I hoped he hadn't sold all of his nuclei as that would put me back again.

  I had done a little bit of research on the beekeeper by asking others whether they knew him and they all said he was very reputable (I would hate to think what a non-reputable beekeeper would be like) and so I made contact. Yesterday it was confirmed that I could get some bees from him but would be waiting till the end of April or beginning of May before I could get my hands on them as he said that the colonies are taking a little bit of time to get going. He didn't want to give me a small colony so suggested I just wait a little longer.

  Either way it will leave me with one hive having a nucleus of bees and I will then hopefully get a swarm in the other. Mmm. I hope this will allow enough time to get that jar of honey from at least one of them!

  But at least I have now ordered some bees.

On reflection, today has been a great day. It did start early, at 6 a.m. – this time of year I always like to get something done early in the morning before Jo and I wake Sebastian up and I always run out of time what with all the seed sowing and general preparation work for the spring – and I planned to pop up to the allotment to get the first sowing of potatoes and mangetout into the ground. When the mornings are clear and sunny like today, it is simply beautiful and a joy to be up early. It is quiet, no one is around and you can go about your business without real time constraints as essentially you have borrowed time; it feels more peaceful knowing that you are ahead of everyone.

  After the initial success in planting the spuds in almost straight rows, I moved on to the near-impossible task of preparing the remaining raised beds in preparation for yet more potatoes. With almost impenetrable clay as the topsoil, I can assure you it isn't particularly fun, and a visit to the chiropractor may now be in order.

  I went and had breakfast with Jo and Sebastian. I love Saturdays as I can actually spend some time with them over breakfast rather than clock-watching. Sitting there in a tight-fitting suit waiting for the dreaded time when it is all systems go is never something I look forward to. There then follows the cold walk to the car, traffic jams, road rage all around me and the rolling up of sleeves as I walk into the office to face the first of many meetings and coffees. Did I mention the hours stuck in front of a computer? Needless to say I would rather stay at home!

  Once breakfast was cleared away and Sebastian had been put down for a nap, I went back out. My job was to move the fantastic collection of willow poles I collected while cutting back the willow from our driveway up to the allotment. It felt like such a satisfying job to finally get rid of it from the drive – and as a bonus, serious brownie points earned with 'she who must be obeyed'. As I was offloading my second carload, however, my morning took a turn. Over the brow of the hill came a collie dog. This meant one thing: any second now, the farmer who owned the field would arrive.

  Now let me explain the origin of my allotment. Two years ago I dropped a handwritten note into the bungalow at the end of the farm track that we live on. The recipient would be our rather eccentric and scary farmer known as Ray who I had never talked to but had heard lots about. I was requesting a little bit of his land to build my allotment on. Fortunately a week later I received a scribbled note back through the letterbox giving me permission to do so. We agreed a great-sized plot, about the size of a tennis court, which looked perfect and the rest is history; I have been breaking my back ever since trying to make the heavy clay soil workable.

  Farmer Ray is an interesting character. His family have been working this land for centuries. He is passionate about chickens (he used to be an egg farmer) and is genuinely someone I would like to get to know but not like to upset. I would guess he is in his mid sixties and though he scares me half to death, he has this aura of being a man of principle and I would certainly invite him to the pub for a pint; for his stories about The Beatles alone.