From A to Bee (40 page)

  I tried to think of the human equivalent of what I was about to do to the bees. If you can, imagine spending the whole summer stocking up on groceries and stores for the winter; baking cakes and making stews to make sure there are plenty of supplies while the winter weather sets in. Then you spy your slightly irritating neighbour, who insists on coming in once a week just for a chat, walking down the path to your house. You sit there patiently, knowing what is going to happen, only for him to open the back door and signal for all the other neighbours in the street that the path was clear. People then walk straight into your house and steal all of your home-made produce and stored fruit and veg for the winter. I am not sure you would be happy and you would probably come out fighting, aiming to wallop any greedy neighbour with a broom.

  There could be an upside, though, as they may just leave you a roomful of sweets just to make sure you don't starve. Once I'd removed the frame I would be putting on a great big feeder complete with sugar solution which they should be able to refuel with once I replaced the frame. As Alan had said, this was a pretty strong hive with good levels of stores and so a little bit of burglary wouldn't hurt them.

  Once we had put Sebastian down for a lunchtime nap, I went up to the hive, filled with trepidation. I went through the motions: smoked them, left them for a little bit, then opened it all up with the hive tool. I started choosing the frame and it was as if they knew what was about to happen. They were worse tempered than usual. I just needed to go through the other frames, choose the best one and then get out. I quickly selected a frame, shook off the bees, brushing those still hanging on with a bee brush (a very soft bristled brush), and made a swift exit.

  I drove home and promptly spread a small tree's worth of paper around the kitchen and got down to business. Having realised I was not going to be taking several frames of honey I didn't bother hiring an extractor and so I thought I would go about it in a rather manual way. Therefore this morning, after Sebastian had opened his presents I had got all my equipment prepared.

  Usually you would use a serrated knife to decap the cells but this wasn't going to get the honey out of the cells. I therefore decided that I was going to scrape the honey out of the cells using my hive tool. I needed somewhere where the honey would spill into but I didn't really have anything suitable. I ended up finding a bright pink cat litter tray which was perfect for the job and so having cleaned it out and put it through the dishwasher a couple of times, it now had pride of place in the kitchen. Of all the pieces of equipment in the world that were at my disposal I never expected to be using a bright pink cat litter tray for honey extraction but there you go – welcome to my world!

  Having set it all up earlier, with the hive tool in one hand and the frame of honey in the other, I thought I was ready, like a well-oiled machine…

  … That was until I saw a honeybee flying around my kitchen. I couldn't believe it. I had arrived not even two minutes earlier and already they had found me. I checked that all the windows and doors were closed as I know that bees will follow you, but I was at least 500 metres from the hive, I had driven the long way back with the frame in the boot and then walked straight into the house. Yet this little bee had found me already. Amazing, but surely a coincidence? I let her out the door, hoping that she hadn't sensed the honey. I had to move quickly just in case before she told all her mates.

  I gathered up my tools again and rested the frame on top of a piece of kindling wood that was straddling the bright pink cat litter tray. This was to keep it clear of the honey while it dripped out, which was a little tip I had seen online. I gently pressed the hive tool into the frame of honey, being careful not to push the hive tool through the complete frame. As soon as I increased the pressure and it pierced the first few cells, honey oozed out over the rest of the still-covered cells. It was beautiful to see and I couldn't resist running my finger over the golden liquid to catch some before it dripped into the tray. This was to be the first time I tasted my own honey and was an experience I will forever savour. Jo, who had been standing behind me, held out her finger to catch a droplet or two and it really felt special as we both stood there enjoying the moment. As I continued to press the hive tool in carefully, I was struck by how soft the honeycomb was and how little effort I had to put in to extract the honey. It was a real joy but it was over too soon. I only had one frame to do and within a few minutes it was finished. I was looking at a frame now empty of honey as it was all in a waxy mess in the bottom of a bright pink cat litter tray. I was not sure any other beekeeper had ever extracted honey the way that I had just done but I felt pretty pleased. I wrapped the frame up and put it to one side. I would deal with that later.

  For now, I would let the honey settle and then push it through a muslin, probably tomorrow. In the meantime, I had birthday duties to attend to.

It's amazing what you can get done in a two-hour naptime once Sebastian goes down for a sleep. Jo and I rushed downstairs into the kitchen and immediately put a muslin over a ceramic bowl that we had sterilised that morning in the dishwasher. You use the muslin to take out most of the impurities, the wax cappings, for example. As Jo held the bowl in place I lifted up the litter tray to let the honey flow out onto the muslin. For the first time, as the honey was filtering through the muslin, I really got to see the colour of the honey, as the bright pink of the litter tray didn't really do it justice.

  It was lovely and golden, and as I expected, it seemed to be the colour and consistency of that urban honey I had seen previously. It was however a little bit thicker than I imagined and hence I had a feeling this task might take a while.

  After a few minutes it was pretty clogged up and so we lifted the muslin out of the bowl to take a look at the underside. None had dripped through and I feared I had used too fine a muslin but, as we were looking, a large drip dropped through, which was a most joyful sight. After that came another, but it was clear it was not going to be a quick job.

  Jo and I therefore decided to leave the muslin in place for a while to let it all filter through. Securing the muslin in place using some books surrounding the bowl, we left it and let gravity do its work.

  Coming back to it several hours later once Sebastian was in bed, we saw that most of the honey had now filtered through but there was still some stuck in amongst the wax cappings that were left there. I picked up the muslin, held it over the bowl and then did what came most naturally at the time; squeezed it as much as I could until I was satisfied there was no more honey that could come through.

  Once this was done we could just go straight ahead and bottle up the honey. Looking in the bowl there was definitely enough for one small jar and we may have been lucky enough, in our ultra-crude way of working, to secure two small jars. I could hardly contain my excitement. As I held a jar, Jo very carefully started to pour the honey. It was the moment I had been waiting for and as the first stream of honey dribbled into the jar it all felt worth it. The jar slowly filled up and the honey was a beautiful golden colour but filled with miniscule air bubbles. If I had done it all properly, I should have left the honey to settle for a period of time, which causes the air bubbles to rise and escape, but I didn't really have the patience this time around, I was too desperate to try a little bit of it!

  We quickly switched to the second jar which, with a bit of help from a spoon to encourage the last few droplets inside, meant we had two full jars of honey. I was chuffed to bits. Here in front of me were two jars of my own honey. I had to take some photos for posterity. I had succeeded.

  Jo popped down the toaster and within two minutes out came two slices of toasted white farmhouse bread. Wasting no time to sit down, we spread over lashings of beautiful butter, watched it just melt into the toast and then, using a knife, we harvested the last dregs of honey from the bowl. As we spread it over the toast we got that wonderful waft of honey and Jo was straight in to her slice. Since she is not one to mince her words, it was lovely to hear her say how nice it tasted in just one word: 'Stunning'. I took an almighty mouthful myself, and it was immediately apparent how strong the flavour was. This wasn't a mild honey by any stretch of the imagination and was, honestly, one of the nicest honeys I have ever tasted. The fact that I have only tasted about five different varieties doesn't really matter. This was my honey – what a lovely thing to be able to say.

  Jo and I just sat there smiling, accidentally putting another slice of bread in the toaster. It was a wonderful moment to share and while we waited in anticipation for the next slice I used a teaspoon and filled up the honeypot that David had given me, and prepared myself to fulfil my promise on Monday at the cafe.

When I started this journey into beekeeping I viewed it as an education for both Jo and I but also for Sebastian. I want him, and hopefully baby number two, to grow up and understand where food comes from and hence why I am passionate about growing my own fruit and vegetables as well. Beekeeping seemed a natural step for me in this quest as well as helping out bees at the same time.

  I therefore had to sit with Sebastian on this relaxing Sunday morning, and take him through the same experience that Jo and I had last night. As he sat there in his high chair looking up at me I felt immensely proud of being a father to such a wonderful little boy.

  In front of us was some fresh toast, some butter and my small jar of honey. I quickly explained to Sebastian what was going on and then started to spread the butter over the toast. As it gently melted I quickly stuck my knife into the jar of honey and started spreading.

  The fusion of melting butter and honey looked delicious and I cut the toast into small strips and offered one to Sebastian while Jo and I took the other two strips. As I put the toast into my mouth the fusion of honey and butter was immediately apparent. The warmth of the toast combined with the coolness of the butter still melting and then the depth of flavour to the honey was simply delicious. I looked at Jo who seemed to be enjoying her toast just as much and then my eyes settled on Sebastian.

  His eyes were like saucers as he looked at the scene around him. He would look from Jo to me and then down at the strip of toast in front of him, not really sure what to do. After thirty seconds or so he picked up the toast between his thumb and forefinger as only a two-year-old can manage. As the toast curled and covered his whole entire hand, he went in for the mouthful.

  Though never managing to bite into the toast given its angle, Sebastian proceeded to lick off the entire honey/butter concoction, before throwing the rest of the toast back down on the breakfast table. With his chin covered in honey and butter he looked at both Jo and I and simply said 'More' or rather 'Mowa' in his slight baby-like tone.

  Jo and I just looked at each other and smiled. All the hard work to get that single jar had just paid off and I was a very happy man. Only the honey-tasting in the cafe to go now…