Category: BBKA News

A Year In Beekeeping – The Results Are In

A Year In Beekeeping – The Results Are In

This article was first published in the newsletter of The British Beekeepers’ Association (December 2015).

As the 2015 beekeeping year came to end and I packed away my suit, my sanity and any excuse I had to desert my wife with the two toddlers, it was time to evaluate. Had I succeeded or failed; enjoyed or silently suffered; protected my bees or squashed a few too many? And how, my dear friends, does a beekeeper actually evaluate a year in beekeeping?

Unlike a football manager I don’t have a league of success where I can rate my achievements (or lack thereof). So what do I look for? Is it producing buckets of honey or above average winter survival rates? Is it learning new skills or having more colonies than you started with? Or is it just surviving the year? Well it’s a bit of all of that …

Kick Off

My beekeeping year started with disaster. By April my four colonies had all expired. I can’t be sure, but I think it was due to a combination of the following factors: moving two hives to an exposed location in the middle of winter, an old queen and possible nosema.

Lesson learnt: don’t listen to some of those old knowledgeable dudes. Not feeding the bees or not insulating their hives might work for them but not for novices (three years in and I still count myself as one). Hefting hives and colony insulation is the way to go for beekeepers like me.

The Transfer Window

In April, I bought two nucs of bees from a Mr Bee. As the name suggests he’s a bit of a don so I was happy with my new team and confident they would lead me to beekeeping glory.

I was optimistic. Some might say overly optimist. I was the Jose Mourinho of the allotment; talking about the strength of my team, the buzz of the crowds and the perfect conditions. My coat wasn’t quite as swanky as his but I perfected his arrogance and knack of talking nonsense – without the threat of an apiary ban.

I regularly visited the bees and all looked good. From a distance at least as I was trying the ‘hands off’, observe the bees, theory of beekeeping. I realised I quite liked my beekeeping visits now that they consisting of simply having a coffee.

Unexpected Attack

They came from nowhere. I didn’t see it coming. Then all of a sudden the wasps were on the attack. They were like the Bayern Munich to my Bristol Rovers. No hope …

And of course it wasn’t just the bees feeling the imminent threat but the neighbours and more hysterically, my wife. Perhaps, in hindsight, I should have better sealed the winter syrup laden supers I decided to leave in the garage. Yes, perhaps that didn’t help.

Teamwork

In some ways the bees have been kind to me this year. Only one sting and I caught a swarm that went on to become a strong colony. (I highly recommend swarm traps and the pheromone lure by the way).

However… and it’s a big however… the hives only produced 5 x ½ lb jars of honey. Yes, that’s the total result from 4 hives, 50 hours of effort and about £500 spent on nucs and equipment.

I also had to let my toddler know the plan for a pop-up honey stall at the end of the garden might have to be put on hold. That was a toughie. I had to agree with her, they were indeed ‘naughty bees’.

The Final Minutes

I started my countdown to winter in August, as me and my bees were not going down without a fight this year.

I firstly treated the colonies with Apiguard and then started feeding in September. They still had a high varroa count in October and it was warm enough to use MAQs strips. I then tried to be more scientific measuring the weight of the hives to ensure they had enough stores to see them through (each side of hives hefting at 15Kg by the end of October). I made sure the hives had minimal air space and wrapped them up in an insulated, waterproof and breathable jacket. Looking proper snug I regained a certain smugness.

Beekeeper With Insulated Hives
Beekeeper With Insulated Hives

The Final Result

So in conclusion – me and the bees have SURVIVED. And that’s the real test of a beekeeping year.

With two kids under three years of age and a full time job, often the beekeeping can become a bit of a “to-do” list. There’s loads of parts of it that I don’t actively enjoy (you know the tidying up, sterilising equipment, carting loads of hive bodies around) but I know I’ll have had a successful beekeeping year when I get a bit more time to do the bits I do enjoy (the inspections, the honey extraction, the ‘watching them sessions’!)

And it’s because I’m hunting down some more quality time with my bees that I’m biding you farewell for a bit. I’m not sure when I’ll next write for this lovely BBKA magazine but please keep in touch through my blog. And wish me luck.

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BBKA News: Which Is More Complex – Keeping Bees Or Children?

BBKA News: Which Is More Complex – Keeping Bees Or Raising Children?

Raising a fully functioning child who isn’t addicted to Peppa Pig, Hula-Hoops and screaming ‘no’ to perfectly reasonable requests not to engage in life-threatening behaviour is undoubtedly more stressful than managing a bee colony. My two kids are to blame for my overly salted hair and not the bees.

Beekeeper & Baby
Beekeeper & Baby

However, as I look at the two books currently residing beside my bed (Toddler Taming and Beekeeping: A Seasonal Guide) I realise each of the disciplines have a claim to being the more complex.

Both bees and small children refuse to follow the rules and often fail to understand that we are trying to help. That said, they are usually happy to get on with it whilst we observe.

Still, we-who-love-them hope that one day, by reading the right books, talking to the right people, finding the ‘secret’, we will finally get them sussed.  Yes, one day we will get them to sleep through the night and to produce lots of honey.

So as I continue to research the theories behind child-rearing and bee-keeping, I wonder which is taking more toll on that grey matter of mine. And to work that out, I devised a completely non-scientific comparison study.

Feeding

Bottle or breast. Baby-led or purees. The blue spoon or the impossible-to-find pink one. Feeding a child can be tricky, with militant campaigners on either side. The older generation seem to think us lot are insane with our Annabel Karmel recipes books (yes, she teaches us how to mash broccoli) but we need to put our £30 baby sized food mixer to good use. My mum says it wasn’t that complicated in her day but now of course we know how dangerous food can be! Whole grapes (choking hazard), nuts (allergy) – quite frankly the kitchen is a danger zone for the first 18 months.  Child Brain Toll (CBT) rating: 3/5

Ideally bees won’t need any feeding but weighing the hives and calculating how much stores they need for the winter does take a bit of thinking.  Making the fondant or syrup is my kind of cooking.  I might have over-fed bees my bees last autumn and I’m sure this contributed to my dismal survival rate. Bee Brain Toll (BBT) rating: 3/5

Health

With kids you get them vaccinated and try to make sure grandparents don’t get them addicted to chocolates and ice cream. At the first sign of illness, the wonder drug that is Calpol comes out. We now buy magnums of the stuff.  CBT: 1/5

Bee health is extremely complex.  We have to be the doctors and nurses. We have to diagnose and treat.  Ideally – even a general inspection should be done to the same hygiene standards as open heart surgery. BBT: 5/5

Sleeping

This is when rituals can become complex.  A lot has been written about getting babies to sleep and it’s a hot topic.  With our eldest, we had 12 months of “bouncy time”, involving up to 30 minutes of jumping on the bed between bath time and reading, followed by a song and rocking.  She never slept in the cot during the day meaning that when we were exhausted we still had to take her out in the pram for her daytime naps. Luckily our second child read the instruction manual and has been much more compliant. Nine months in we even get the odd night when he actually sleeps through the night.  CBT: 4/5

OK, bees don’t sleep, but I’m going to include over-wintering in this comparison.  This activity involves a varroa treatment in August; in September checking the bees are disease free, have a laying queen, are a strong colony, have enough stores and fed as required; in October providing insulation and a mouse guard.  You only need to do this once per year per hive (compared with 3 times a day per child) but it’s more complex than “bouncy time”. BBT: 5/5

Development & Play

I must have said “da-da” to my children 10,000 times before getting any reward.  I definitely wore out a pair of jeans with each baby as I helped them toddle around the house. And play – they got that all by themselves!  Not complex, just repetitive. CBT: 1/5

Bees go through the cycle of house worker to forager all by themselves without any input from the beekeeper. I’m not sure if bees play, perhaps the drones, but they do dance! BBT: 1/5

Behaviour

If my eldest does any more moaning, I’m going to sign her up to the next series of Loose Women.  Whilst child experts on TV can make improving behaviour look simple, it’s an issue for all parents.  From trying to get your infant not to drop the spoon again for you to pick up, to the benefits of sharing, these are difficult messages to get through. Persistence and a firm voice is key – as are threats of a CBeebies-ban.  CBT: 5/5

Bee behaviour is fascinating. Preparing to swarm, swarming and the social aspect of storing honey for the winter for future generations.  But they get on with this all by themselves.  I can’t train them not to swarm, or to lay comb in straight lines. In a way it’s easier knowing we cannot take responsibility. BBT: 1/5

Results

So, the unweighted “Brain Toll” totals from above are:

  • Children: 14/25
  • Bees: 15/25

Conclusion

Bees might have just won this complexity battle but both disciplines are equally worth the effort. Both bring me joy, challenge, a smile and pride.  And with all this external focus, they might even be helping me to “regain my sanity”.

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BBKA News: Seven Species Of Beekeepers

The Seven Species Of Beekeepers

This article was first published in the newsletter of The British Beekeepers’ Association (No. 222 – June 2015).

It’s taken me three years to confidently recite the seven species of honeybee*, but just as distinctive and varied are the different species of beekeeper. We come in all shapes and sizes, temperaments and abilities, and I’ve found it pays to know who you’re dealing with in order not to get stung.

When I first considered joining the community I presumed all beekeepers were jolly, eccentric men with beards. I imagined they would all listen to the Archers and buy their pants in M&S. I thought they would find a new, young novice like me to be a rather endearing revelation in the beekeeping world but I quickly realised I too fall into a very common breed of beekeeper … and, shame on me and my presumptions, I discovered that half of beekeepers are women.

The Virgin

I strongly identify with this novice group with their budget suits and eager grins. The virgins are becoming more common with 4,700 new beekeepers joining the BBKA each year recently.

Virgins are a bit nervous, often make mistakes, sometimes get lucky and often experience colony losses.  However, we’ve all been one and I think it’s really important to embrace new blood. The virgin does become Queen after all.

The Bumbler

I have just about advanced from Virgin to Bumbler, i.e. an improver.

Bee Suit - Sherriff Apiarist
Bumbler Beekeeper

I went from one to four hives. I’ve taken a couple of exams. I’ve bought lots of exciting equipment. And I can almost hold my own in a conversation with a Naturalist (we’ll get to them in a minute).

However, rather crucially, I still have not quite worked out how this beekeeping malarkey works. Like other bumblers, I do my best, try to make educated guesses but often fail miserably.

Still, you’ve gotta love a bumbler. We do, after all, make the rest of you guys look competent.

The Bee Whisperer

This is who all the bumblers aspire to be. The dudes who don’t wear gloves.  The people who are beyond exams, or, the Master Beekeepers who are the moderators of the BBKA online forum.

Earthy and natural or technical and scientific but always fearless and the bees know it. They definitely know their hoverflies from their honeybees and don’t have to google “how do I get rid of laying workers”.

It’s both intimidating and brilliant to meet a Bee Whisperer. It feels like you have ‘idiot’ spray painted on to your head but you also want them to tell you why your queen has not started laying.

So please bee whisperers – make friends with us bumblers … our bees need you!

The Natural Beekeeper

The philosophy of natural beekeepers is basically let nature take its course; that nature knows best. I wasn’t going to argue with my wife when she was screaming for an epidural and I’m afraid I do use a smoker and National hives.

However, I remain in awe of this purist beekeeper. YouTube clips of the Sun Hive are pretty amazing; made to mimic the more organic shape of natural bee hives. I like the thought of letting the bees feed on their own honey over winter instead of a sugar substitute. I love the idea of not using chemicals. But I’ve followed the conventional beekeeping road more travelled.

Of course, I’m slightly shamefaced when I come across a natural beekeeper but I hope they can appreciate that we are part of the same passionate genus, if not the same species.

The Wagglers

Bees do the waggle dance to attract attention and there is a new breed of beekeeper which isn’t shy of showing off their hives. From the trendy Hoxton boys with their beards, to the bloggers like me; we are just as likely to send a Tweet when we discover our queen as we are to mark her.

The old school may look on bemused but there are benefits to this swarm of social media. More people are attracted to looking after bees and we are all becoming better beekeepers by sharing information.

The Workers

Some may see profiteering from honey not to be in the romantic spirit of the craft but I think any beekeeper who advances UK honey production and availability is a positive.

Workers may be producing tons of honey rather than tens of jars but basically that’s because they are doing something right. I’ve visited several large producers myself and I can vouch for the fact the sites remain gorgeous and the honey super-tasty.

Such is the appetite to turn a hobby into a career, the Bee Farmers Association now runs an apprenticeship scheme for people wanting to become professional beekeepers. And good luck to them I say.

The Foragers

Like bees, these beekeepers are pretty thrifty. They get scraps of wood and turn them into fully functioning hives. Flat packs are an anathema to them.  And they probably shake their head in disbelief at people like me who are afraid to drill a hole and have been known to assemble brood boxes in such a way that the frames don’t fit inside.  OK … I’m going to admit something … it’s actually cheaper for me to buy pre-assembled hives because of all the mistakes I make! I am 0% forager.

Conclusion

The BBKA has about 23,000 beekeepers and, of course it’s simplistic to categorise only seven breeds, but it’s clear we do come in very distinctive varieties.

We all have varied styles and purposes and sometimes, like the bees themselves, we can be a bit brutal with each other. Still, like any hive, the crucial thing to remember is that we are all part of one community; one that hopefully has the common goal of keeping bee colonies flourishing (whilst enjoying some honey on our porridge).

* I understand there are seven species of honeybee, all members of the genus Apis.  Apis mellifera (European honey bee).  Apis cerana (Asiatic honey bee).  Apis florea (red dwarf honey bee) and Apis andreniformis (black dwarf honey bee).  Apis dorsata (giant honey bee).  Apis koschevnikovi (Koschevnikov’s bee). Africanized bees.

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BBKA News: Melissophobia – Fear Of Bees

Melissophobia (or Apiphobia) – Fear Of Bees

This article was first published in the newsletter of The British Beekeepers’ Association (No. 222 – April 2015).

I feel I need to come clean.  I have mixed emotions when inspecting bees, alternating between delight and wonder, to slightly nervous and occasional panic.

Melissophobia is an unreasonable fear of bees.  Surely, there should be a word for a reasonable fear?  With a particularly aggressive colony, my fear seems reasonable. Those little buzzing things sting.

Having a fear of bees is somewhat unfortunate for a beekeeper but it must be quite common. Surely most beekeepers heart beat increases when they hear the roar of 60,000 bees – especially if you have kamikaze bees.  Not all beekeepers can be the type that are happy to inspect their bees with little more than cotton wool in their nose and ears. Surely some, like me, are what they call metrosexuals (i.e. men who have been known to run away from spiders).

Fatalities due to honeybees are rare.  In October last year it was reported that a beekeeper in the UK (with known anaphylaxis) died of a honeybee sting and the article I read quoted an Office of National Statistics official that a man last died of a bee sting in 2012 in the UK. There seems to be a higher proportion of deaths attributable to bee stings in the USA, where in 2000, the World Health Organisation reported that, there were 54 deaths attributable to bee stings (from a population of 281 million people and where 90 people/year die of lightning strikes). Perhaps, this is due to an increased prevalence of Africanised bee.  So with these low rates of fatality it is apparent that my fear is not rational. I know that probably the worst I’ll get is some painful stings, a swollen leg and a lack of sympathy from my wife – but still, when you’re faced with a hive, it’s not just a bee you’re contending with, it’s thousands of them. Yes I know that the average adult can safely survive a thousand stings, but what if they ALL get me?!?

Facing The Fear

Of course the recommended treatment for phobias is to face your fear, something I will be doing quite a lot over the coming months, with the first inspection of the hives imminent.

This year though I’m going in prepared with my apiary armoury.

In my early days I had some lovely bees and thought that smoke was an unnecessary accessory. As the bees created stores and had something to defend I became a smoker.  I now have a bucket-sized smoker. I am resigned to being the Dot Cotton of beekeepers.

Smoking Hive
Smoking Like Dot Cotton

Clothes-wise, I have learnt that trainers with socks over jeans does not provide much protection especially when you stand in front of the hive entrance.  I have discovered that bees don’t sleep and that feeding at night does not mean that the bees won’t fly/pour out of the hive.

bee sting reaction
Bee Sting Reaction

I currently find myself with a particularly aggressive colony*. When I remove the crown board the bees surge upwards and pour out of the hive like a scene from my worst nightmare. They attack every weak spot.  Down my boots.  Through gloves.  They even sting the tips of my ears where they touch the suit.

I now wear marigolds under my regular gloves.  I tape up my boots. I wear thick shirts and jeans under my bee suit. I wash my gloves and clothes regularly to reduce any sting pheromones that might linger and that would initiate more attacks.  I have all the rumoured remedies on hand (onions, toothpaste, lemons and half the contents of Boots). Any pretence of me being a brave-beekeeper is well and truly annihilated.

When I do an inspection, of this aggressive hive, I’m in and out and do the minimum required. I have decided they are impossible to inspect after June.

My Skin Breaks Out In, Err, Hives!

Usually I go through the normal cycle of pain, swelling, itching and very tired for a few days if I’ve been stung by upwards of ten bees, but one time due to a combination of being stung and high anxiety – my skin broke out in, er, hives. It was so bad even my wife was sympathetic. This is all somewhat ironic considering I started beekeeping as a way to de-stress.

The solution is obviously to get some nicer bees. Ones that like their beekeeper and welcome a yearly raid of everything they’ve spent their little lives working towards.

My plan is to requeen as soon as possible this year (June) and an old boy has offered to come and jointly inspect the colony in April and perhaps requeen with some of his more gentle Queens.  I think he thinks I am either doing something terrible to the bees rather than me having a particularly aggressive colony.  Either way – it will be fantastic to see an experienced beekeeper working with this colony and see if he is able to charm them.

Advice

It’s always good to know how other beekeepers handle their hives. Have you found any impenetrable material to protect us from stings? How do you make your inspections less risky? If nothing else, how do you illicit more sympathy from your other halves when you do get stung? Do let me know if you have any ideas.

* When I wrote this article for BBKA News I did have an aggressive colony, but unfortunately I lost  it at the end of February (Post: Colony Post-Mortem).

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BBKA News: Is Beekeeping The Perfect Hobby?

BBKA News: Is Beekeeping The Perfect Hobby?

This article was first published in the newsletter of The British Beekeepers’ Association (No. 222 – February 2015).

In my twenties I thought a hobby involved spending money I didn’t have, embarrassing myself and waking up with a hangover.  I called it ‘socialising’. As I entered my forties it was obvious I needed a different sort of hobby; one that didn’t raise an eyebrow from the doctor or leave me eating leftover curry for breakfast.

I don’t know where the beekeeping idea first came from but I was immediately attracted to it and three years on, it’s safe to say it ticks all the boxes.

As I watch my middle aged mates squeeze into their lycra outfits to go running, spend far too much money supporting their football team or get injured playing golf (yes it’s true!), I bask in knowing I’ve found the perfect hobby. Obviously I don’t tell them, but seeing as you already know, here’s a reminder why Beekeeping Is The Perfect Hobby.

People think we’re brave

For many, beekeeping is the stuff of nightmares.  They can’t believe we seek out something that’s essentially a weekly Bush Tucker Trial. They think of us as brave masters of our hives; the Bear-Gryls of the allotments.

The truth is obviously somewhat different.

For me, well, let’s just say beekeeping challenges my fears and is more akin to a white water rafting experience.  With the roar of 50,000 bees at close proximity, insects inspecting me and trying to find a good spot for a hot stinger, my heartbeat doubles and I sometimes come home a quivering wreck (I have a particularly aggressive hive at present that I will requeen in the spring).

But while it’s obvious to me and my wife that I’m far from brave, there’s no way I’m telling my motor-biking mate Mark that I’ve spent good money on two layers of impenetrable material to protect me from my hobby.

Me and an aspiring beekeeper
Me and an aspiring beekeeper

We make something wonderful

We produce one of the most delicious, indulgent products in the world. No wonder some varieties are sold for up to £70/lb. On toast, on porridge, dribbled or guzzled. Honey is the Ferrari of foods.

And of course a by-product of this is that we can actually sell our honey. Admittedly this may be some way down the line once you consider the cost of hives, protective gear and numerous accessories – but eventually, we can be in profit – unlike my friends who spend several hundred pounds a year on a Man U season ticket.

Environmental smugness

I’ve always been a bit of a recycling hard nut and enjoy doing my bit for this planet of ours. To find a hobby which makes me happy and makes the world a better place is a result!

When I find myself go-karting on yet another stag-do, I console myself with the fact I’m a beekeeper.

We get to be our own boss

In my dreams, I’d like to run my own multi-million global conglomerate. So far I remain a small employee in a very big company but at my apiary, I am boss, officially in charge of thousands of little workers.

And I don’t mean that flippantly. Here my decisions actually matter. If I don’t feed the bees at the right time, they could die and that’s genuinely upsetting. If I protect the hives from varroa, then I’m more likely to have a high yield and I’m very pleased about that.  The bees need the beekeeper.

So far, I’ve been a caring boss (if somewhat incompetent) but at least I know I won’t embarrass myself at the Christmas party.

People are interested in beekeeping

Someone once said, “hobbies of any kind are boring except to people who have the same hobby” and I can relate to that. I tune out when my friend Russell talks footie scores or my wife updates me on Jennifer Anniston’s engagement (she considers reading Grazia a hobby).

Beekeeping, however, is a hobby that people do want to talk about. Even the blokes down the pub want to get involved in a chat.  Everyone has so many questions (some of which I can actually answer). ‘How many bees are in a hive?’ (50,000), ‘How many types of bee are there?’ (lots), ‘Do you get scared?’ (I give an ambiguous response).

We get a cool outfit

There’re a few hobbies that demand a certain look from their followers. Golf for example. Now I quite like the idea of wearing loud, checked trousers (I also like the idea of a bone through my nose) but my wife insists I couldn’t pull it off.

The beekeeping suit, however, makes us look like we mean business. It makes us look like we’re entering some futuristic alien convention. And it’s surprisingly forgiving … not like those skin-tight shorts some of my friends wear to ride their bikes.

It’s better than a week in the Maldives

Yes I’m sure the Maldives are rather nice, but nothing beats being elbow deep in bees to make you forget your week at work or the list of ‘to dos’ waiting for you at home. It is the ultimate distraction, and it’s often found in a lovely countryside location (or at least a bushy bit of the city). It’s also a lot more convenient and cheaper than the Maldives, though I must admit, you’re less likely to get a tan or a cocktail when you’re beekeeping.

Other beekeepers are rather nice

We don’t have to interact too much but when I’ve needed guidance, other beekeepers have been very helpful with their varied advice. I’ve found the community to be passionate, opinionated but generally lovely. There’re also a few mad characters out there and some very impressive beards, both of which I appreciate.

I write short posts about my latest beekeeping exploits on my blog, www.talkingwithbees.com, and I’d love to hear more about why you think Beekeeping Is The Perfect Hobby.

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