Anyone who knows me knows I love bees. It’s obvious. But I have moments when I wonder if I like beekeeping. Today, for example.
I have queen bees living in my underwear drawer. I do this every year because, if new queens cannot be installed immediately, they need to be kept in a warm, dark, dry, draft-free environment. The underwear drawer fits the bill and I’ve done it every spring for the past four or five years. But now they’ve been there nearly a week.
Trouble is, the weather is nasty. It is rainy, windy, thundery, and cold. Every time I think it might clear, it just gets worse. I’m tired of queens living in my underwear and they’re tired of it too. So today, I decided to take a chance and work in the apiary between downpours. (Okay, not so bright.)
Everything went fine for a while–maybe five minutes. The hives I want to re-queen are populous and weather-bound. Scads of bees live there. Nearly right away I could see this wasn’t going to work. At the first hive, I sorted through frame after frame after frame searching for the overwintered queen, but I found nothing. Too many bees. The odor of alarm pheromone was enough to make me swoon. I got stung a few times, spilled sugar syrup down the front of me, and accidentally pulled a top-bar off an old frame. I was trying to pry the rest of the frame out of the hive when the downpour came.
I was then hot, sticky, irritated, drenched, stung, and grumpy. Remind me why I do this? On the third hive I finally found a queen and snatched her up. I put the hive back together but couldn’t get ten frames into a space where ten frames just came out. How does that work?
I decided to scrape wax, but when I reached in my pocket to change tools I realized it was brimming with bees. That’s right–bees in my pocket. I had caught the queen with a queen catcher and stashed the entire thing in my pocket. Apparently, dozens of her loyal subjects followed her in.
Intent on clearing the pocket, I set down my hive tool. Only I didn’t really because it stuck to my hand. Really stuck. I shook it loose and it went flying in to the brush where I couldn’t find it. Salmonberry vines clung to my clothes and ripped the back of my hand, but I finally spied the tool. When I bent down for it, I immediately get stung in the thigh by the pocket brigade. I uttered words I had only ever read.
That was the moment when I wondered if being a beekeeper is something I really want to do. Maybe I should just admire bees from afar and settle for bee art up close. I could learn to like bee art.
Long story short, I got everything put away–that is, everything that’s not headed for the wash. I got the hives back together just as a clap of thunder warned me back to the house. There’s only a few bees left in the pocket. The rain and wind continue and, yes, the queens are still in my underwear.
Rusty
This brought a little tear to my eye.
Excellent contemplative post by @HoneyBeeSuite I love bees, but beekeeping? Not so much. http://wp.me/pLmcw-Zu
Yea, we all have days like that. I’m a naturally clumsy person with big, not very agile hands. Have you ever noticed that even with your most gentle hives, there comes a point when they just have to run you out? Their “cut off point”?
“GET OUTTA HERE AND STOP BANGING AROUND!”
Thanks for the laugh…at myself!
Oh Rusty, I feel your pain. Honest, I do. Our backyard is flooding and it threatens to consume our hive. Nights I’ve sat awake thinking beekeeping is more work than its worth. I too love the bees but some days are just a mess and I start wondering if I’m really cut out for it. Then the other day the hubby and I did a partial reversal and it went so smoothly and the bees were calm. I felt good because they all looked good. Now we are back to cold and raining, more flooding and the queen isn’t layihg because of the cold (our queen doesn’t seem to care for weather under 50). It is nice to know that there are others beeks out there sharing the same experiences, frustrations, uncertainties. We are good beekeepers afterall
Michelle,
I hope you don’t get washed away. The weather reports across the country are so miserable. I often think about the readers of this site and I wonder how they are doing and how many of them have had their bees washed away by floods or blown away by tornadoes. It is discouraging.
Then I think about being here in the soggy Northwest and realize I don’t have much to worry about, unless Mt. Rainier erupts like Mt. St. Helens did. I do wonder about that sometimes, but you’ve got to live somewhere and every place has its challenges.
Yes, beekeeping is frustrating sometimes but it sounds like you two are doing great. Keep me posted.
I used to think Newfoundland had to be one of the hardest places on the planet to care for bees. Well, I still do. Our hives are coated in ice at this moment, with more hail on the way tonight. None of the natural wild flowers seem anywhere close to blooming yet. It’s a bummer. But I think you might have all that beat, at least for the time being. You win. By which I mean, you have my sympathies. What a lousy rotten frustrating day.
I’m curious what words you uttered that you had only ever read.
Phillip,
Sorry, Phillip, but like Mud Songs, this is a “family friendly” site.
Cheers!
Rusty,
If it weren’t for beekeeping you wouldn’t have such wonderful stories as this to share. Beekeeping is an adventure and adventure stories are the most entertaining both to hear and to have lived.
Jim