From A to Bee (27 page)

  What was interesting this evening was the role we play as beekeepers and I hadn't thought it would be so philosophical. To cut a long story short we had to decide whether or not to kill off a queen as the colony had already been artificially swarmed (a long and detailed manoeuvre which I won't even attempt to explain as I am not sure I fully understand it yet) but her remaining daughters had raised a new queen cell so they obviously weren't happy with her.

  It felt like we were playing God with this hive, which I wasn't entirely comfortable with. Her survival rested on a vote which, with my vote, spared her and we were of the mentality to let the bees sort it out; far better in my opinion.

  Casually, towards the end of the session, Richard decided to slip into conversation that last week he was stung on the eye. I couldn't believe it – this is the man who helped me film my first inspection visit and is always such a reassuring presence! Yet there it was on his eyelid, a couple of millimetres from his eye, a small scab.

  Apparently, last week at this apiary session, he had been clearing away having just completed a hive inspection, a good fifty metres from the hives, and a bee took umbrage against him and another beekeeper. It flew straight at him, apparently, and then the next thing he knew he was grabbing his eye in serious pain. The other beekeeper standing next to him was in fact Tom, who first told me that you can get stung in the eye. With this being the second time it has happened near Tom, I wonder how many people will stand near him again! However, knowing him a little better now, I bet he was secretly pleased as it meant he could recount this story once more with some naïve newbie beekeepers.

  In the end after some immediate medical attention at the apiary, Richard didn't go to hospital but he did take an antihistamine tablet. Despite that, his eye apparently swelled up considerably and was practically closed. It was painful for a day but then it was OK. Needless to say, a lucky escape – if he'd been stung a couple of millimetres higher, then it would have been a whole different story. This event combined with my recent close shave up at the hive suggests the need for far more care around the bees than I was giving them at the moment. Lesson learned as far as I was concerned.

  The evening finished with a pint at a new watering hole close to the new apiary location and we saw the sunset overlooking a beautiful lake. Fabulous – I could get used to this.

'The call' came yesterday. I had already left home for my mother-in-law's when my phone rang. 'Do you want to pick up your bees tomorrow afternoon?' asked a very well-spoken gentleman. 'Yes, yes, yes!' went my heart, 'No, no, no!' went my head. The Beehaus had arrived but it was lying on our lawn and I had to get this white, freezer-type contraption up and in position at the allotment. Not an easy feat given its design. Not to mention I had yet to build any of the frames needed to put in it. How on earth was I going to do this from my mother-in-law's house?

  'No, no, no!' was shouting louder in my head and yet I heard my mouth open and utter the immortal words, 'Yes, I would love to pop by tomorrow to pick up the bees.' No, no, no, no, no! What on earth had I agreed to? However, I had messed this guy around enough and therefore set about resolving the plan in my head last night. I was struggling to think how exactly I was going to work it all out. I came to the conclusion finally that there was no way I could do all of it and I would just have to give it my best shot. Not a nice thought to go to bed on. I had again not planned it all very well.

  When I awoke it became clear immediately that it was going to be another very, very hot day. Hose-pipe bans are being discussed which is quite incredible given the wet winter. My greatest concern, however, was my nice black car which wouldn't make the journey with bees any easier. As I wasn't transporting a complete hive this time I decided on our saloon car and I was hoping that I could pop the nucleus in the boot, far away from where I was sitting. There is also no way that bees could escape the boot either which was a bonus while driving. Anyway, I set off and arrived in good time at the most glorious of homes, one I only ever expected to see in those expensive property magazines. As I drove up the pebbled driveway, this beautiful, old, wisteria-laden house emerged from behind the trees. It looked ever so peaceful and as I slowed almost to a stop, the small wooden door opened. An elderly gentleman, who I took to be Alastair, emerged. He was slightly hunched over to get his tall frame through an impossibly small door. As I left the car we exchanged pleasantries and shook hands. I didn't dare say to him that I hadn't really got anything prepared back at home.

  Money exchanged hands and the correct position in the car was decided. When taking the swarm the boot was really the only place we could put it in, but this time Alastair suggested the back seat complete with seatbelt to keep it secure; sadly ruining my plans of keeping them as far away from me as possible. Generally, when you are buying a nucleus, you will be given it in what is termed a nucleus box which is still made of wood but is about half the size of a hive, and therefore far lighter. I have seen some online that look like very high quality wooden boxes but what was in front of me seemed more the norm. It was a plywood box with a very thin wooden lid, complete with a hole fitted with gauze for ventilation. It was all held together with masking tape which I thought a little strange. This also meant it was a little bit more unstable and hence the need for a seatbelt. The chosen position made it a little bit more daunting as they were right behind me and I could really hear the buzzing but I set off anyhow. I said my goodbyes with one last statement from Alastair: 'Better get them out as soon as possible because of the heat, you wouldn't want them to go into meltdown – heaven knows what they will do.' Gulp.

  I was making quite good progress around the winding roads of Surrey until I heard a sudden pop and a hiss. I simply couldn't believe that in the midst of transporting several thousand bees, I was having my first ever tyre blowout. To make matters worse it was really heating up outside. Me and my several thousand passengers slowly rolled along, desperate to find somewhere to pull over.

  I managed to pull in to a layby almost immediately in front of a couple of gentlemen in a lorry. I got out as these two giants of men clambered down from the cab to say 'O'wight mate, don't look too good does it?' Having agreed with them and said a quick hello I got out the spare replacement wheel, which is a sorry-looking thing half the size of a normal wheel and restricts you to travelling at the speed of a snail, while they inspected the problem. Seriously, these guys were huge, wearing wife-beater vests with muscles bulging and complete with tattoos on every inch of their body. They were very helpful, however, until I mentioned that I had to get the bees out, which is when their tone changed to one of concern. I got the bees out of the car as the two guys backed off a little ('I'm allergic,' I heard one of them explain to the other) and put them in the shade to cool down.

  Alastair's closing comments were ringing in my head as I got on with the task of changing the tyre. The guys soon left as they realised that I would be OK. That feeling of satisfaction when I realised I knew what I was doing with the jack, being able to release the wheel nuts with the 'locking wheel nut' and getting the wheel off had a strange effect on me. With the precious cargo to my right buzzing away, it was a very masculine moment, one even greater than chopping wood or lighting a bonfire! Still, I cannot imagine what those guys will be saying down the pub this evening about helping some random bloke change a tyre complete with a hive of bees in the back seat.

  Once the tyre was fixed, I got on my way and managed to make it home in one piece. Now came the first part of the plan I had concocted over the last twelve hours: the Beehaus move to the allotment. I removed the bees from the car again to give them some fresh air and placed them in the shade before looking at the Beehaus again. It looked heavy and awkward and sadly Jo had the larger estate car so I couldn't simply transport it up with that. However, I realised if I broke it down into two journeys it would be OK and so firstly I took the roof, balancing the supers on top. I went from what I call the African style, i.e. balancing it on my head, to bear-hugging it looking through the open-mesh floor on the bottom to aid direction. Either way, it was not easy and a black mark against the Beehaus but I'm sure not all moves are done at this level of haste.

  I got it all set up and then did exactly as I was told. Thankfully, I didn't have to build all the frames immediately as I was told to put the nucleus on top of the newly set up Beehaus for a couple of days and let them out before moving them into the hive. The bee suit was on and I tentatively pulled out the bung to let the bees free. And nothing happened.

  It was as if they were unsure, but about ten seconds later a little head popped out, quickly followed by another and then they streamed out into the big wide world. Lovely.

  I shall pop up tomorrow to see them into the Beehaus proper, complete with the frames that I still have to build early tomorrow morning. What a lovely experience though, and despite being more expensive than a swarm, it's far more civilised in the way that you retrieve them, and it is also good to know your bees have come from a good home. Ultimately I suppose this is the most important aspect of buying a nucleus because you are buying them from a known source rather than just picking up someone's swarm from somewhere.

  All in all I am pleased that I have now experienced both methods of obtaining bees; I only wish they had both been a little earlier so that I could really take advantage of a whole summer for them to make me some honey. I hope I am not too late.

Good God, I am not sure I can recommend making frames at 6 a.m. in the morning. Usually I just about get away with digging holes or watering at this time of the morning as little can really go wrong. Using a small hammer is certainly not the best thing to be doing before the early morning coffee and my thumbs certainly know about it.

  This weekend feels like quite an important one for my beekeeping career. Today will be the day that I introduce my girls to their new home and tomorrow will be the day that I introduce my traditional hive to the open-mesh floor that I have been stalling on transitioning to. And I may have to add a super on top as well, which is exciting.

  Once the frame-building was out of the way to the delight of my thumbs, I got on with the rest of the day. I heeded Alastair's fine advice of leaving the bees till evening to deal with their big move. Therefore Sebastian and I went to play football together and we all then spent a very pleasurable afternoon basking in the unbelievable temperatures while seeing my old university friends for a barbecue. What a nice way to spend the day, knowing that later I was due to dabble in the unknown…

  No wonder it was nerve-wracking – I simply didn't know what I was about to do. I was used to using traditional hives, and the Beehaus was something completely different, requiring a different way of working. Most of this was due to its size but it also makes you work a certain way. Whereas with the National hive I can work the frames from behind the entrance, the Beehaus forces you to work from the side which I suspect will feel a little awkward. This along with the fact that I was about to perform a manoeuvre I had only seen on YouTube didn't help matters – I would be flying by the seat of my pants! Not a good thing.

  All day, in the quiet moments, I was working out exactly what I had to do and was trying to formulate a plan. I hadn't really had time to play around with the Beehaus since I built it. I still hadn't put any frames in or any cover boards on. I obviously haven't learned from my previous planning issues, or maybe it is just that beekeeping is not quite suited to those who have a child, a pregnant wife and a full-time job. I would like to think it is the former, personally.