Bee Calm

6/12/2014

It happened sooner than we expected. I had expected it to happen the following weekend when my cousin Paul and the wonderful Beth were set to get married. That's how these things always play out, don't they? Major family event planned months ahead. Unpredictable arrival of important package requiring immediate pickup and attention.

In this case the important package was a 4 lb. package of bees and an extra queen. You may be asking yourself, “Why the extra queen?”. Don't think you are alone. I asked the same thing. Weird nuance of the apiary society. Worker bees don't seem to care which queen they were born to, and only need an adjustment period with a new queen's pheremones to accept her. So the most efficient way to start two new hives is to split a 4 lb. package into two hives.

So, back to the surprise call. About ten days early, on the 15^th of April, if I recall, I got a call. A voicemail to be precise. We don't always get great phone service at the land, and we had been working there all day. On our way home I checked my messages and it simply stated, “Your bees have arrived, please come get them as soon as possible. We are open 24 hours a day until they have all been picked up.” Please also be aware that this was also the last light snow/frost in central Ohio. So needless to say, I was worried about the survival of the bees in that cold.

Michelle and I discussed waiting until Thursday when I had my next day off work, but thought that would be too long for them. The other options were dropping the girls off and returning that night, or leaving early and installing them on Wednesday morning before work. Reluctantly we decided that a night install would not be the best choice for my first time. As I did the math in my head it would be an early departure.

3:45am, the alarm blares! I roll out of bed, get dressed, and jump in the car. I grab coffee and gas and head for Danville. Arrive at Simpson Bee Supply at around 5:15. The dark, crisp night and long, unlit gravel drive make it seem uninviting. White barn at the end of the drive with a light and various bee hives inside tells me this is the right place. But no one is around. I walk past a few cars in the drive toward what looks like an unlit house. Still no signs of life. Then a noise and some light sneaking out from the closed door of a delivery truck. I knock on the back door of the truck. The man inside says, “Don't mean to be rude, but please go inside the mud room and knock on the inside door.” I do as he says. Two minutes later a kind, tired, old woman comes to the door. I tell her I have come to pick up my package of bees and an extra queen. She says we have to drive down to the end of the drive where they store the bees. I follow her car back down the way I came, and onto a short driveway with a large Mobile Simpson Bee Supply trailer. I follow her inside. She finds her ledger, and eventually finds my name with the purchased bees listed. Next to a propane heater she pulls out a 1x1x3 inch screened box and hands it to me. “Here's your extra queen. Just put her in your pocket to keep her warm.” Put her in my pocket??? I keep this thought to myself, as I consider this may just be a greenhorn concern. Then she shuffles past me and outside. I follow, wondering why she didn't also hand me a box of bees from inside the warm trailer. Then I figure it out. There are large tarps draped over pallets full of bee boxes next to the trailer. They don't have space to house all these boxes. Nor do they usually have a need. Rarely does it snow in mid-April. She finds my 4 lb screened in box, and walks it to my car. I open the trunk and she says, “Maybe they would be warmer in the back seat.” In my back seat??? I, again, keep this thought to myself, knowing my overactive imagination is probably the culprit. She places them on the floor of my back seat, and I say a small prayer. I thank her for the service and late hours, and speed on my way around 6am.

At this point in the drive, I can see I am not going to be on time to work, short of a miracle. I make the best time I can and arrive to our land at around 6:45. I have a few things working against me at this point. Our land has a long, muddy drive up to the house. I was driving the civic, assuming I would have to walk the bees back to the waiting hives. It is now too late to reasonably expect to have time to walk them back, install them, and walk back to the car and still make it to work even a few minutes late. Some anxiety fades as both of those obstacles are removed. Pulling into the drive I realize the cold weather has been a blessing in disguise. It has frozen the ground, and I am able to drive the civic back to the house for the 1st time since last fall. Elated, I turn the car around and get the bees, my bee suit, spray bottle with sugar water, and 2 mason jars with sugar water. 

I should also mention another challenge I am dealing with. I have a broken ankle, and still have two weeks till I am off crutches. Needing both hands for crutches, I decide that I only have time for two trips over the 200 feet to the hives. The first trip I take the bag with spray bottle and two mason jars. The mason jars begin clinking against each other and the aluminum crutch. I slow down to reduce the risk, but still manage to break one by the time I reach the hives. I return to the car and get the box of bees. You may notice that I have decided to forgo the protection of the bee suit. Somehow I carry the bee box on my shoulder, pinching the crutch in my armpit, allowing it to pendulum swing with my forward momentum. 

I remember that Michelle heard advice that our hives needed to be 20 feet apart so the bees wouldn't merge into one hive. I had set them up only two days before with about 5 feet difference, as I had seen other keepers do with established hives. New hives are apparently different, especially ones that are split from one package. In order to move one hive, I drop the crutches and walk on my knees the 20 feet with multiple pieces in my hands. I wish I had video of the multiple trips it took to move cinder blocks and the many pieces of the hive. 

Now the hives are set up, and I spray the screened box of bees with sugar water. This calms them down, feeds them, and makes it difficult for them to fly. I duct tape the queen from my pocket, still in her cage, onto the top edge of one hive. I pull the food can, about the size of a can of soup, from the package. I realize later that it was only held in by gravity, and I was lucky it stayed in place while in the car. I do the patented "bump, pour" move with the box, and attempt to estimate when about half the bees have fallen into the 1st hive. This is soon complicated by bees buzzing around my head. I set the box down, replace the food can, and grab the spray, spraying in every direction. As soon as I can determine there are no bees on me, I grab the box and knee walk over to the other hive. Same series of events, except I also have to use my leatherman pliers to remove the queen cage and attach it to the 2nd hive. Same frantic waving and spraying of bees until I am a safe distance away. Then slowly returning to each hive to place feeding lids, feeding jars, and top lids on the hives. I used the food can that came with the package for the 2nd hive, since I broke one of mine walking over. 

I grab my crutches and hobble back to the car. I speed away at about 7:15am. It takes about an hour to get to work from there, which puts me only about 15 minutes late. I apologize profusely, and only find one hitchhiker in my jacket when I unload in the teacher's lounge.  Somehow I received no stings!