My cousin Simon started the season with two colonies but when I went to see him last week, up in Yorkshire, I discovered he had seven colonies after several swarms landed in his garden.
The problem for Simon, and potentially his neighbours, were that four of the colonies were aggressive and impossible to inspect. Furthermore, he doesn’t want seven colonies!
As he knew I was coming up, he decided this was the perfect time to adopt me as his Deputy Beekeeper and bought three mated Queens for us to begin the Requeening process.
Requeening Aggressive Bees – Our Approach
We started out with low expectations about even finding the Queens that needed to be culled (they were unmarked and he had never seem them) and took anti-histamine before we started. Always be prepared and all that.
Our general approach to requeening these aggressive colonies was as follows:
Have a plan on paper so that you know what you are going to do with respect to which colonies to requeen, queens to cull and hives to unite
Smoke hive
Move aggressive colony 3m away on to a table
Put spare super on original site
Wait 10 minutes
Aggressive colonies are now a lot calmer and easier to inspect
Find Queen (this sometimes involved going through colony twice and on one occasion trying to shake bees through a queen excluder)
Cull Queen
Put frames back in hive and move back to original site
Install new queen in her queen cage sandwiched between brood frames
If uniting, put newspaper on top, punch small holes, put new colony on top (make sure this is queen-less)
Wait a week
As you might be able to tell from the photo below, Simon and I are not hardened killers. This was our first time culling Queens and it was a bit disturbing. We knew we were doing it for the right reasons but us beekeepers put so much effort into raising queens and hoping they get mated that to kill these laying Queen’s seemed somewhat perverse.
Results
The approach was a success.
We culled 4 Queens
Requeened 3 colonies
United colonies so that he ended up with 5 (1 colony was queen-less)
No stings
Requeening Video
Postscript
5 days later Simon emailed “Fondant eaten, newspaper removed, just before bad weather came … fingers crossed all will settle!”
I have yet to find out if the new Queens are alive and laying.
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.
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”.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
Spring is definitely in the air (well, when the clouds get out of the way). This means the bees larder of nectar-hunting opportunities has become much more succulent. It’s the equivalent of shopping for-frozen-fishfingers-at-Farmfoods in February to middle-class-manchego-buying-at-Waitrose in May.
So the bees are smugly stuffing their faces now – but they aren’t the only ones who can benefit from the sweet smell of spring! Yes, it’s time to go ‘native’, pretend we’re Bear Gryls and get out FORAGING again. This is not only a chance to scoff free food but an opportunity to shred the office uniform, be at one with nature and look cool in front of your wife with your obvious manliness.
Yes, foraging might be about walking through woods and hunting out flowers but this is no Timotei advert. It’s blooming DANGEROUS! There’s no sell-by-date on these plants. A tasty looking blossom could easily turn you into a vomiting-Exorcist-impressionist. But hey ho, it’s fun!!!
One of my favourite forage foods is wild garlic which is in blossom with white flowers right now.
The flower is edible too – making great salad decoration and the opportunity to impress friends and readers of this blog with my daring (though I doubt you would see this as one of the items you have to eat on a bushtucker trial in “I’m a celebrity … get me out of here”)!
Wild Garlic Pesto Recipe
1 large bunch of wild garlic, washed
60gms pine nuts, toasted (cashew nuts are cheaper)
60gms parmesan cheese (other Italian hard cheeses are cheaper)
150mls olive oil
Squeeze of lemon juice
Pepper
Method: Place all the ingredients into a food processor, except the olive oil, and mix for a couple of minutes then pour in the olive oil and mix again.
Eat with pasta and add single cream! Delicious.
Honeybees On Apple Blossom
And here’s one of my honeybees on another Spring flower.
Beekeeping is a personal journey. For me it has been about finding purpose and nature and hence, regaining my sanity but a sub-theme has emerged. Beekeeping has made me ever more aware of my shortcomings: poor DIY skills, fear of bees and general worrying that the bees are OK (food, varroa, disease, mated queen, swarming, etc.). I’m not the self-sufficient adult I had hoped to be. I have called this theme manliness. I know, I know. DIY and being brave is definitely not male-only territory but as a man I feel the pressure is on.
My last test was building a flat pack hive. It wasn’t perfect but hopefully the weather and weight of the hive is fixing the poor build.
However, another opportunity presented itself for me to prove my manliness … buying my first ever cigarette lighter, for my smoker.
Me: “Please can I have a cigarette lighter”. I stumbled over my words, I squeaked like a teenager. It was obvious I was a virgin cigarette lighter buyer.
+ 2 man points. It should have been a +10.
Man behind counter: “We don’t sell them” in the kind of way that made me feel like I had to clarify I was a beekeeper and it was for my smoker!
– 10 man points
I went to the shop next door and was successful in my purchase. I got the smoker to light first time.
+ 10 man points
I was very proud of myself and felt the testosterone radiating from me. When I got home my wife (not to be messed with at four months pregnant & yes, I have told the bees and now you) informed me it was my turn to do the dishes. I reassured myself that in 2014 it is still considered manly to wear Marigolds.
It’s been a good week and this is why – in order of what cheered me up the most:
I discovered the bees were alive (phew)
The sun has started to make an appearance
I got into the allotment, did some digging and planted some seeds
I bought an assembled brood box and stand (and saved myself a day)
I bought some new work shoes …
for £21 – half the price I though I’d have to pay
from my local corner shop – so I didn’t need to go into town
and they’re synthetic – meaning I don’t need to polish them
and I no longer need to try and hide my old work shoes behind chairs and under the desk as they were not polished for the five years I have been wearing them
So that £21 bargain brought me a lot of pleasure. Is this my equivalent to shopping therapy?
Read More
W H Thomas & Son – Shop where I bought my shoes. Old school, local clothing store. Also sell online. Apparently they sell a lot of y-front underpants to Japan!
PS. I did a Varroa count today (counted 5 mites over 14 days) and the count has dropped to less than 140. The previous count was 980 and I haven’t done anything in the meantime. Strange. More info at Hive Two Record Card.
It is definitely a huge relief and good for my sanity to see my bees flying as we enter Spring. Now, they just need to survive until April when there will be more forage available. Here they were at the weekend, busy bringing in pollen:
And it’s lovely to just sit and watch them:
So far so good. I removed the mouseguard. The hive is still heavy with stores. When the temperatures reach 15C I’ll treat the varroa with Apiguard and open the hive to find out if the old Queen is alive or if they have superceded her. I just need to think about my strategy to expand to three hives this Summer (an artificial swarm and a real swarm would be ideal).
I even managed to find 30 minutes to sit on a bench in the sun with a coffee. My wife tried to get me involved in tidying up the house but I said “pah” to Spring Cleaning and bring on the Spring Dreaming. It definitely did more for my sanity (if not my marital relations).
Read More
Beekeepers Anonymous – If you are dealing with the grief of losing a bee colony over the Winter, this Beekeepers Support Group page might help
How-To Guides – Includes feeding bees, varroa management, beekeeping calendar
On my last Varroa count on 21 December 2013, there was an estimated 1,700 Varroa in Hive Two. I was hoping that the Oxalic Acid treatment that I applied on the same day was going to reduce the varroa to about 340 (i.e. a 90% reduction).
On Sunday I did a Varroa count. Over 11 days, 27 mite had dropped onto the Varroa board. This means there has been an Average Daily Mite Fall of 2.5 Varroa mites and an estimated number of adult Varroa mites in the colony of 980.
This means I only reduced the count by about 40% … which, in turn means … I have failed!
Bugs On The Brain …
Perhaps it’s because of the warm winter we are having leading to more capped brood and the oxalic acid being less effective? Perhaps I could have used more acid? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps …
I may have lost my battle with Varroa but the good news is, I have not yet lost my sanity. In fact, I’m proud to tell you that despite the bad news, I am surprisingly quite calm about it. Two years ago I would have been pulling my grey hair out but I think experience has chilled me out.
A former boss once said to me “just do what you can”. This is based on the premise that we have busy lives and not to worry about all the things we just don’t have time to do. So I’m going to add Apiguard in April and cull the drone brood. Until then, I’ll just sit back and count my Varroa.
Disclaimer: “just doing what you can” is often not enough … it just might make you feel better on the journey.
For the sake of any American readers, what I mean by pants is underpants – but this should become apparent as the story unfolds.
On a Sunday morning in July, this Summer, I went for a run, had a shower and then put on my thickest pair of pants as I was to inspect the bees later in the day. Despite it being another hot day there was still something comforting about my thick pants.
I considered sending my mate Anthony (who was to join me later for a bee inspection) a jokey text about wearing armour plated pants, but I thought this was just going overboard as I had texted him earlier telling him to bring some cotton wool for his ears and nostrils. Okay, these thoughts amuse me during my moments alone.
I showed Anthony and his son some empty supers and explained how a hive worked and then stepped into my full bee suit and wellies, secure in the knowledge that I had three layers of protection in the most sensitive of places should the bees attack me. I gave my mate the ‘guest half suit’ and it did cross my mind that his trendy jeans looked a bit on the thin side.
Here we are, all excited:
I assured Anthony my bees were friendly seconds before he became my first guest beekeeper to get stung. He made a lot of noise about it – these actor types like the attention. I kept calling him to come back and to be fair he did come back for 30 seconds to get a look at the bee eggs and larvae. We then headed home for some antihistamine ointment.
I popped up stairs to change out of my suit and jeans and get the ointment. Anthony was keen to show me his bee sting and came up too. It then also became evident he didn’t have any pants on (“he’d forgot to take them to his brother’s where he was staying the night”).
Let’s assume he wears pants 364 days per year out of 365 days and that he just got very unlucky to find himself dropping his trousers, showing me his sting and applying cream. Or perhaps the exhibitionist in him got lucky?
So the moral of this story is, if you are going to inspect some bees with a friend, best to wear pants. Not just for that triple layer of protection, but so that in the event you do get stung on the upper thigh and want someone to look at it, it’s a bit less embarrassing for all concerned.
You can read more about this inspection in my hive notes from 21 July 2013.
Bee Update
All looks good. None flying as it’s too cold. They buzz when I tap the hive. No dead bees on the floor (amazing).
If you have been missing my posts, you might want to have a read of My Favourites.
I had heard of these places whilst on beekeeping training courses and in whispered conversations. They had evoked more fear than curiosity … until now. Yes – I am talking about beekeeping equipment suppliers!
I imagined it to be like an old-school DIY store, the sort of place where beemen and beewomen would hang out to shoot the breeze. They would look me over and make me feel very small. It would be difficult to have a private, one-to-one conversation with the owner. “Yes I am a beekeeper. I’d like some bees and hives please,” I would ask quietly. “What type of bees and what type of hives?”, would start a conversation where I would gradually have to reveal the depths of my ignorance. I’d leave the store and they’d be thinking “I give him a year”.
But being a beekeeper and blogger I thought I should be brave and it was time I visited an equipment supplier rather than just buy online.
So, was the visit to be like my recent experience at a local DIY store to buy some curtain hooks? (After several visits I ended up buying all the packets of curtain hooks, none of which fitted).
Maisemore – My Local Supplier
Maisemore are just 45 minutes drive from where I live. I first read about them on their website and was really pleased to find that they operated 1,000 hives across a number of locations. They were still practicing beekeepers and would understand my issues. They are also a family run business in its 3rd generation.
I arrived to find a big warehouse, a shop, lots of planks of cedar wood and some beehives in operation. Not clean, shiny beehives like my own, but proper working hives that had been built decades ago and stood the test of time.
Johnathan, who owns Maisemore with other family members, was behind the counter. Whilst I was there a few people came in asking about Queens and buying equipment, but nothing like the scary dudes of my imagination. Johnathan knew his stuff and we got chatting. We got on so well in fact, Jonathan kindly agreed to give me some equipment in exchange for some mentions on this blog – hence my new Beekeeping Equipment page!.
Why I Liked Maisemore
They know their stuff – They operate 1,000 hives and understand beekeeping. Their products are not over-engineered and they rely more on word-of-mouth than big budget advertising.
Great value – Their “Rock Bottom Bee Hives” are made of cedar and I couldn’t find any cheaper on my searches. I have listed and provided links to other suppliers here: Beekeeping Equipment Suppliers
Wide product range – They have all the equipment a new beekeeper needs. If you visit the shop, 95% of the equipment you would need is in the shop and I am sure Jonathan would be able to lay his hands on anything else you wanted, either out-the-back or in the warehouse
I got some free stuff!
If you do buy from their store, please give me a mention (they deliver nationally and internationally). Next year, I’d love to negotiate a good deal on this yellow suit for my “Guest Beekeepers” 😉
Read More
My wife has banned any further spending on beekeeping equipment and I have now started a very small relationship with Maisemore which I talk more about here: Beekeeping Equipment
Crikey. My first bee experience of the new season, and my manliness is already under self-scrutiny.
What is it about me (my character) that Pete ended up hefting my hive around? Is it something I could do something about … like press-ups? Or is there somehow I could boost my alpha-maleness so that no one would even consider offering to help?
Or am I over-analysing this and is it simply that he is a strong-armed farmer and I am an office-working weedling? Perhaps I could help him out with some Excel spreadsheets? Probably not.
A similar thing happens when I am at Mum & Dads. If I don’t get asked to do the washing-up, I can definitely feel/anticipate the expectation … but somehow, before I even have the Marigolds on, Dad has started?
I’ve written a few times about the manliness issues that beekeeping has prompted. It’s not attractive! Have a read!!
Crikey. This was to be my third hive. I’ll soon have to bump up my BBKA insurance! Hmmmm … and I’d better start making some honey. Or maybe I just shouldn’t blog for a few years and start writing again when I have made a year’s supply of honey, rather than appear to be the beekeeper with all the gear and no idea.
The good news is that I am much improved at building a flat pack beehive. Yes … the frames are not perfectly square, yes it wobbles, yes there are gaps and yes, the bodge hammer made a few appearances … but the gaps are smaller than a bee, and with a few kilos of honey, some weathering and propolis from the bees … it should be alright.
Even though it has been eight months since I built the last hive, the subconscious is a wonderful thing. It keeps on learning even after the event. This time I anticipated problems. Before I applied hive glue, I hammered in nails, so that they had gone through one piece of wood and nearly ready to go into the next one. I punched holes through plastic rails using the larger nails. I was on fire! It only took me two hours to build the hive stand and open mesh floor. I think this demonstration of anticipation, is evidence that my Man Intelligence (MQ) has increased in the last year.
As my own workbench had no vice or “things” (also known as vice pegs or clamping dogs) to stop the pieces of wood slipping around, it was a bit tricky, but the garage wall helped. Ironically, pieces of wood are more slippery after the glue is applied rather than more sticky. It often felt like a two man (or person) job but I was going to do this by myself.
Slowly, I am dissolving away the idealist in me that would like to make perfect square hives that don’t rock, and who would like to know what is going on in the beehive. I am trying to become someone who is happy when it’s good enough.
I am not yet that person … “where’s the bodge hammer”??!!
The memories of Heidi going through six days of labour were still very fresh, but the memories of building my last flat pack hive had faded enough that I bought another one. So either I could pop round to Dad’s and borrow his Workmate … or, now I have a garage, I could buy my own workbench.
As soon as I had the idea to buy one I was very excited and however much I analysed my actual, functional need, there was little that was going to dampen my emotional desire to own a workbench. I had to buy one. Not a pop up one, but a permanent fixture.
A real man would chop down a tree and build their own, chunky workbench. I went online, did my research and bought a flat pack workbench for £78. I could justify £78. £10 functional value, £68 emotional value. (If you’re interested in this workbench follow these links: UK Link, USA Link).
I assembled the workbench in less than an hour. Most of this time was spent wrestling the top shelf into the frame, but what a friend calls “the bodge hammer” sorted it out with a few bangs.
Now my workbench was assembled and a little damaged from my efforts, my sister asked what I was going to do with it? I repeated the mantra that “every man needs a work bench”. But she persisted and asked “what for”? “I needed it”. “What for”? “To build my flat pack hive”. “And then what”? Errrrmmmm.
The truth is I want to be the type of man who has a workbench. The type of man who goes in his garage and bangs away with other people fearing the development in progress and comes out proudly holding a box of no particular use. I want my garage door to be the equivalent of a wardrobe door that takes me to a DIY Narnia where I am King. I want to sometimes leave my garage door open so elderly neighbours walking past can see my shiny but well used tools. I want my workbench to shout, he knows stuff, he makes stuff, and he can show Nick Knowles what to do with his wrench!
After buying the workbench, I was feeling newly masculated until I went to an NCT (National Childbirth Trust) house party. I was given a tour to discover that the Man Of The House had a Harley Davidson in his garage …
If you liked this post and want to know where the manliness anxieties started, you might like to read I Am Not A Beeman.
A. It’s alright! It’s pretty good. (Heidi – this is an understatement, I just don’t want to tell everyone how brilliant it is)
Q. What’s your role as the Man Of The House?
A. Hmmmm. Good question. It seems to be cooking, cleaning, shopping, winding. When it gets too much, I sometimes go into the garage to build beehive parts. I would describe myself as Man In The House, rather than Of.
Q. How are you getting on with all the blokey, technical stuff, like sorting out the pram?
A. I can’t talk about the pram. It brings me out in cold sweats. OK, I can talk about the pram [fakes a deep breath]. It takes me about 20 minutes to either fold it up to put in the car, and the same time to take it out of the car and put it up. Each time I go through this process (which has been twice now), something breaks as I force it into position. I don’t think my baby girl’s life is in immediate danger in the pram, it still seems to work OK. Each time I go through the process of collapsing and reassembling the pram, I have no idea how I got from A to B or B to A. The pram is currently in a collapsed state in the garage. Last time I went into town I didn’t have time* to work out how to use the papoose (baby carrier) so I carried Senen over my shoulder, in a manly way, like a sack of potatoes.
* When I say I didn’t have enough time … 30 minutes seemed plenty at the time, but it was not enough.
Q. And what is your role with the other gadgets like the breast bump and 2-way intercom?
A. I’ve delegated them to Heidi. I can’t look at one more set of instructions – unless someone comes round and shows me how these things work. The man doesn’t have to be in charge of all gadgets, does he? I am choosing to be a New Man in this area. No one needs to know.
Q. How do you feel walking around town pushing a pram?
A. Have you ever seen My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding? A man’s relationship with a pram is complex. It’s a bit like asking me how would I feel wearing a handbag or a dress or using one of those shopping trolleys that older people take to the shops? There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s practical. It’s just that, errr, it does not fit comfortably with my self-image of Being A Man. I prefer the baby carrier, but that does not fit my self-image of Being A Man either. I’m looking forward to carrying her on my shoulders.
If you are wondering where all these male insecurities started, you might like to read I Am Not A Beeman or if you like the Dad theme, try It’s A Girl or Proud Dad.
Whilst Queen bees can easily bang out up to 2,000 eggs a day … this is not the case for humans. In fact, at times on the day of the birth, it seemed like humans were not designed for natural childbirth. I will spare you the details, but I finally broke down when I was ushered out of the operating theatre for Heidi’s c-section. Three minutes later a nurse came out and told me mother and baby Senen were fine. It took me another 15 minutes to man-up and we are both still getting over the experience. Next time we’re booking in for an elective cesarean!
We’ve had a few questions about the name, so in anticipation of further questions … There is a place we like in Cornwall called Sennen Cove and about two years ago Heidi thought it would make a great name for a child, boy or girl. We looked it up in the baby name dictionary and there was a Senen, meaning “wise boy”, an Irish name. We reckoned it could also mean “wise girl”. We made a token effort looking through the rest of the name book, but our hearts were already set.
I took two weeks paternity which was the best holiday ever and at the end of this found the time to go and visit the bees and tell them the news. One of the guard bees seemed particularly interested and I had to run away.
Postscript: For an update on how I am getting on you might like to read On Being A Dad.
Bee update
I have not had much time to think about bees in the last six weeks. There were quite a few flying in and out on Sunday when it was about 12C … but I still don’t know whether there is a Queen in there. I might not know, until it’s warm enough to open it up in the Spring.
I am planning based on the scenario that these is a Queen and will phone a friend to discuss sugar fondant and oxalic acid.
Christmas present
As a Christmas present to myself I bought another flat-pack beehive (14×12 brood box, 2 supers, roof, floor, stand). It will take me about 16 hours to assemble but will keep me entertained during the dark Winter nights, especially as Senen should soon start having a bed time at 7.30pm.
So this my third hive … just need to catch a swarm … or better still, hope that someone brings me one in a cardboard box … and if they want to tip them in … please go ahead … they are scary those bees!
It is a lovely day here and I have just been to visit my one remaining colony hoping to find evidence of a laying Queen.
Well, I now know what frames are meant to feel like that are full of honey, as the bees have so far taken down about 10Kg of the sugar I have been feeding them. I’m not sure what my bees have been living on all Summer.
Due to the weight and my lack of strength, it was a struggle to hold the frames high with the sun behind me as I looked for eggs and larvae. I could see neither. This leads to the following possible scenarios:
There is no Queen
There is an unfertilised Queen
There is a fertilised Queen but she’s not laying at the moment
I have left a message with a local Queen maker. So hopefully he has a spare one and then I’ll have to learn how to re-queen a hive. I am a bit worried that if it is scenario 2, the unfertilised/resident Queen will kill a new Queen. I’ll discuss this with the Queen Bee Man.
We have swarmed. We have left our nest in Bristol, started a new colony (of two) in the countryside and the Queen is ready to lay.
Men. I don’t advise moving with a pregnant woman. If, at the best of time we have to do the heavy lifting, when your wife is six months pregnant you have to do all the lifting. Somehow the utilities and changes of addresses fall in my lap too. I do Heidi a dis-service. The Queen Bee was able to hang “cute” baby clothes in the child’s room and she has done an amazing job in the kitchen. She has definitely been as occupied as me … I just don’t know what she’s been doing exactly.
My parents and sister came round to have a look. They all look horrified when I said I had been banging in nails to hang up paintings and the like. Dad looked extremely worried, “nails?”. “Don’t worry everyone, I meant pins. Picture hooks with those skinny pins”. There was an audible sigh of relief. I mean, a 39 year old man, banging in nails …
I got Dad round to hang up the mirror. It needed heavy duty screws and wall plugs and hence drilling. I have drilled two holes in my life. Both are the size of 2p pieces. I started on a third. When it started looking like a 5p piece I got the Old Man up the ladder to show me his stuff. He advised me to practice in the garage. Yes! I have a garage. And Heidi wants me hang my “art” in there so I’ll give drilling a go. I’ve also got a small but wild garden. My first one. I haven’t a clue what to do, but there are plenty of bees in it. Now I am living 30m from my hives I know that some of these bees are mine (not that ownership is important or indeed the right word to use).
I went to harvest my honey last weekend but more about that in my next post …
The garage – good place for bee stuff and putting up my posters
It wasn’t meant to be like this. I was meant to be The Man, or better yet, The Beeman. But The Old Man is taking all the glory. To be fair, he is far more relaxed around the bees than me, so he probably did a far better job. I can only take credit for the fact I gave him instructions down the phone. After I put the phone down, for a couple of seconds I thought “Crikey – I hope he’ll be alright” … and then I buried my head in some metaphorical sand, stuck my fingers in my ears and started a mantra along the lines of La La La. This is the closest I get to meditation these days.
The bees swarmed … yes, again. It was Friday 20th July and I was at work. You might be wondering, which hive? Depending on how well you remember the bee story so far, you might know it as Hive B, or the New Hive or the-swarm-I-hived-near-the-start-of-June. Yes, they’d only been in there 6 weeks and half of them were ready to take off again. I’d given them a nice, big, 14×12 brood box and whacked a super on top for good measure. What was there not to like? Me? Anyhow, not to worry, there are still bees coming in and out as I write this – just rather fewer than a few weeks ago.
I told Dad to get the cardboard box and bee brush, don his beekeeper suit, find someone to take photos, brush the bees into the box, flip it upside down with a rock underneath to give the remaining bees space to get in, call the local bee association for them to collect (I had no where to put them), wait a couple of hours for all the bees to go in and then seal them up and put a few holes in the box. Easy!
Here are a few photos and video clips of my Dad being manly, filmed by The Chicken Man (aka the chap who owns the chicken coop where the swarm landed).
The Swarm – on a chicken coop in the allotment
Curious Cows – the cows come from the other side of the field to check out the action
Dad – The Swarm Catcher! Brushes bees into box
Remaining honeybees find the Queen and rest of the swarm through pheromones
Dad fancies himself as David Attenborough
Dad seals bees in the box for collection
So yes – Dad not only survived but succeeded. Thanks Dad!
Someone from the local bee association came to collect the swarm and whilst he was there he looked in the new hive with Dad. When Dad told me this my Inner Beeman, who is already feeling a bit of a loser, took quite a confidence knock. Crikey, am I so inadequate that I can’t check be trusted to check my own bees? Anyhow, he spotted a Queen cell and thinks this is the hive where the swarm came from.
I have not looked in the hive for a few weeks now because (A) I’m a bad beekeeper, (B) I don’t think I have had any reason to check them and (C) it fits my new philosophy of Evidence-Based Beekeeping. However, I am definitely inspecting the bees this weekend for the following:
Check how much honey there is and consider harvesting
Check their stores of honey and pollen
Make sure both hives have laying Queens, eggs and brood
Amazingly its near the end of the nectar flow and I need to start thinking about getting the bees ready for Winter. I know the days are getting shorter but I’m still, looking forward to some Summer and I’m not yet ready to think about the colder months ahead.
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