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Another take on Taranov

A beekeeper here in Olympia, Dave Hurd, sent me the following photos of splitting a hive with a Taranov board. His design for the ramp is slightly different than my own but the principle is the same. Because he split a Langstroth rather than a top-bar hive, I thought you might enjoy seeing his photos.

Based on these two examples, it’s hard to say if all bees are this smart or if Olympia bees are smarter than most. Hmm…

Anyway, in his comment, Dave wrote:

I’m an Olympia, WA beekeeper (well, I keep most of them) and today is my one-year bee anniversary! . . . I wanted to let you know that I detected impending swarmification (my word) a little over a week ago in my triple deep and so used this method to split the hive.

It was astonishing. It was also unnerving to be shaking sooo many bees out onto the sheet. The carpet of bees marched itself up the ramp and split just like clockwork. . . . My board prototype is a little different than yours but performed admirably. Both the triple and the new colony seem to be doing well, though I don’t think I’ll open them to snoop for eggs for a while yet. . . .

I crafted my board out of an 8-frame bottom board, plywood scraps for side stands, a chunk of 2×6 attached to the bottom for ballast, and 1.5″ wide piece of leather-backed fuzzy material that I cut off of an ice scraper cuff that I then stapled to a piece of 1×2. I figure by the time winter comes back my wife won’t recall exactly how long that ice scraper cuff was. . . .

Thanks, Dave, for your description and some really great photographs!

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Here is the Taranov board from the bottom, showing the fabric for the bees to grab onto.
Here is the Taranov board from the bottom, showing the fabric for the bees to grab onto.
As you can see from the photo, the main ramp is a modified bottom board.
As you can see from the photo, the main ramp is a modified bottom board.
Soon after all the frames were shook free of bees.
Soon after all the frames were shook free of bees.
The bees begin to climb the ramp.
The bees begin to climb the ramp.
A few bees begin to look under the ramp.
A few bees begin to look under the ramp.
The process continues.
The process continues.
Notice the four-inch gap between the ramp and the old hive.
Notice the four-inch gap between the ramp and the old hive.
Eventually the bees cluster under the ramp or on the front of the old hive.
Eventually the bees cluster under the ramp or on the front of the old hive.
The split is nearly complete.
The split is nearly complete.
A beautiful cluster of bees.
A beautiful cluster of bees.
The split is ready for its new home.
The split is ready for its new home.
Home, sweet home.
Home, sweet home.
The new split gets a syrup feeder.
The new split gets a syrup feeder.

The great divide: a Taranov split

I recognized the cacophony coming from my top-bar hive. The insistent roar told me those bees were ready to swarm. They were milling about, climbing up the sides of the hive, flying but not foraging.

I had just returned from a week on the road and didn’t feel like messing with bees, but they were hard to ignore. I watched them for a long while, then asked them (nicely) not to swarm until tomorrow.

On Friday I got up early with the intention of taking a shook swarm from that hive. It’s my only top-bar hive, so I have nothing to split it into. But as I was getting ready, I recalled a conversation I had just had with Karessa of Nectar Bee Supply in Corvallis. She had read my post on the Taranov board and asked if I had ever tried it. Suddenly I knew I had perfect conditions for a test—a hive that was going to swarm any minute.

So I printed instructions from my own website and went through the steps one by one. By the time I was set up and ready to begin I decided there was no way this could possibly work. What on earth made me believe I could shake all the bees out of the hive and expect them to divide themselves into two camps: the swarmers and the stayers? This Russian guy was insane.

But at that point, I decided to keep going. One by one I took out every frame, inspected it for the queen (which I never found), and shook the bees onto the sheet. Like a scene from Harry Potter, all the bees marched up the ramp and divided into two groups. They behaved like a swarm, very gentle and completely non-aggressive.

Now, two days later, everyone seems well settled in. I saw no crossover between the two hives and both have good populations. All the swarming behavior ceased. I no longer think the Russian guy was nuts; I think he was a genius—and he certainly knew bee behavior. Have a look at the photos below . . . this split was too cool for words.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

First I measured the width of the alighting board.
First I measured the width of the alighting board.
My husband doesn’t like me to use his radial-arm saw because I might delete an important appendage. He wasn’t home however, so onward and upward. I cut an old piece of plywood the width of the alighting board and another as a brace. I couldn’t find a hinge, so I used an angle bracket.
My husband doesn’t like me to use his radial-arm saw because I might delete an important appendage. He wasn’t home however, so onward and upward. I cut an old piece of plywood the width of the alighting board and another as a brace. I couldn’t find a hinge, so I used an angle bracket.
I didn’t have a piece of carpet, so I used an old terrycloth towel. This gives the bees something to hang onto.
I didn’t have a piece of carpet, so I used an old terrycloth towel. This gives the bees something to hang onto.

Once the angle bracket was attached, I just bent it to the right angle.
Once the angle bracket was attached, I just bent it to the right angle.

I set up the Taranov board four inches from the alighting board.
I set up the Taranov board four inches from the alighting board.

Here is the ramp in place. By now, the whole thing seemed ridiculous. After all, what self-respecting bee wouldn’t make the four-inch journey between ramp and home? And why would bees go looking for a rag under the ramp?
Here is the ramp in place. By now, the whole thing seemed ridiculous. After all, what self-respecting bee wouldn’t make the four-inch journey between ramp and home? And why would bees go looking for a rag under the ramp?

I taped the sheet to the ramp. If you try this at home, staple it. The tape eventually released under the weight of all the bees.
I taped the sheet to the ramp. If you try this at home, staple it. The tape eventually released under the weight of all the bees.

I shook all 23 top-bar combs onto the sheet. What a mess! If this were a painting, I would call it “Seven Degrees of Randomness.”
I shook all 23 top-bar combs onto the sheet. What a mess! If this were a painting, I would call it “Seven Degrees of Randomness.”

Within a few minutes, they began walking—not flying—toward home. They marched right up the ramp. Who would have thunk it?
Within a few minutes, they began walking—not flying—toward home. They marched right up the ramp. Who would have thunk it?

The great divide. Only four inches apart, two distinct groups began forming—the would-be swarmers and the regular foragers. They must have read the directions.
The great divide. Only four inches apart, two distinct groups began forming—the would-be swarmers and the regular foragers. They must have read the directions.

It took about 90 minutes for all the stragglers to come off the sheet.
It took about 90 minutes for all the stragglers to come off the sheet.

At this point, I picked up the ramp with the swarm attached and dumped it into an empty Langstroth. I found 20 capped queen cells, which I divided between the two hives. I never found the queen.
At this point, I picked up the ramp with the swarm attached and dumped it into an empty Langstroth. I found 20 capped queen cells, which I divided between the two hives. I never found the queen.

The new split. The top medium contains a feeder.
The new split. The top medium contains a feeder.

How to make a vertical split

This is one of the easiest ways to split a colony and, if things go wrong, it is easy to undo. I call it a vertical split, but some call it a top split, an over/under split, or a top-and-bottom split. Like all the other splits I have described, it is just a variation on the basic principles of splitting a hive.

Here are the steps for making a vertical split:

  1. Remove two to three frames of brood from the colony you want to split and place these frames in the center of an empty brood box. As with any split, the brood frames should contain eggs, newly hatched larvae, and capped brood—all of it covered with nurse bees.
  2. Next to the brood frames, add at least one frame containing pollen and one containing honey.
  3. Fill out the rest of the box with frames of drawn comb or foundation.
  4. Also backfill the original brood box with frames of drawn comb or foundation.
  5. Place a double-screened board on top of the original brood box.
  6. Put the opening of the double-screen board on the back side of the original hive, and make sure the opening leads to the upper brood box.
  7. Place the new split on top of the double-screen board.
  8. Place the hive cover on top of the new split.

Other considerations:

If you are going to introduce a queen to the new split, wait a few hours or overnight before introducing the queen in her cage. Don’t introduce a queen to the split unless you are certain the original queen is not in the split.

If you are expecting the split to produce its own queen, look for queen cells in three or four days. If there are no queen cells, you may add another frame of eggs and newly-hatched larvae to the center of the brood nest.

As with any split, feeding is optional and depends on how many frames of honey the split has, the weather, the availability of forage, and the size of the split.

Once the new queen (either introduced or natural) begins laying, you can move the split off the parent hive to its final location.

Advantages of the vertical split:

  • The double-screen board allows heat to move from the established colony into the split. This means splits can be done earlier in the year.
  • This type of split can be done quickly with little planning. If during a hive inspection you find queen cells, you can put them in a box above the double-screen board and leave the original queen below. You will have a new queen in days.
  • If the split doesn’t take for some reason, you can smoke the hive and remove the double screen. The hive will reunite quickly with little disruption.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Ick! Mold in my hive!

Mold seems to be the topic of the week, but that is not surprising. This is the time of year when you open a hive that has overwintered with little interference from you. What you find in there is not gleaming combs of honey and pollen, but empty cells rimed with white, green, blue, or yellow mold. At least it looks like mold and smells like mold. And you are right—it is mold.

Beginning beekeepers often respond by separating mold and bees as quickly as possible, treating everything with bleach, or kicking themselves for being incompetent. If all the bees are dead, mold is often fingered as the cause, as in “Mold grew everywhere in my hive and killed my bees!”

But wait; let’s back up. Molds (or moulds, which seems more sinister) are tiny fungi that live on plant and animal material. They thrive in humid conditions and reproduce by forming spores—great clouds of spores. These light-as-air particles are everywhere, just waiting for the right conditions to sprout.

Hives provide the perfect place for mold growth, supplying all the things molds like best: debris from plants and animals, a moist environment, and darkness. Millions of spores are waiting in the crannies and crevices of the hive, with napkins tucked under their chins, knives and forks at the ready. They know the feast is coming.

Now an active colony of bees has no problem keeping mold growth at bay. The bees clean and polish brood cells, remove dead bees, rotate stores of pollen, and remove invaders. But during the winter, the colony energy is spent in a cluster. The main interest is survival—eating and keeping warm. Housekeeping is put on hold.

A mold spore in a winter hive believes it died and went to heaven.

As the winter progresses, the cluster becomes smaller and the bees move up through the boxes, eating their way through the honey stores and leaving empty, unattended combs behind. The mold gleefully takes over. To make matters worse, a layer of debris accumulates on the bottom board or screen—vast helpings of dead bees, mites, bits and pieces of comb, feces, drips of honey. The mold is beside itself with happiness and joy. It reproduces like crazy. A mold spore in a winter hive believes it died and went to heaven.

But as spring approaches and the colony begins to expand, the now active bees begin regular housekeeping duties. The dead are hauled out, the cells are polished, and all that mold disappears in a flash. The bees know what to do.

On the other hand, if your colony died, it died of something else and then the mold took over. Excessive mold is the result of colony death, not the cause of it. I’ve seen beekeepers discard everything in sight just because of mold, which is silly and wasteful. Mold is a natural part of the entire beekeeping process.

The problem with mold is that we, as pampered humans, apply our own standards to the beehive. In our own lives we go to extremes, even buying food laced with calcium propionate, sodium benzoate, and potassium sorbate so little furries don’t start on our dinner before we do. These chemicals are usually acidic substances that delay mold growth. Most mold doesn’t do well in acidic conditions, which is why honey is slow to mold and why a little vinegar or lemon juice in sugar syrup can delay mold for a while.

If you can’t stand the mold and simply must do something with those combs before you give them back to the bees, put them in a warm and dry environment for a few days with plenty of space between them. This will stop the active growth phase. Some people like to spray with bleach. Bleach is okay but if the combs don’t dry out quickly, the mold will just grow back. Sunlight discourages mold growth as well, but don’t melt your combs.

I recommend just leaving moldy frames with the bees. If you check those frames after the colony has a chance to work on them, you won’t be able to tell them apart from any other frames. Applying your own standards of housekeeping to bees will make you crazy and give the bees the last laugh.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

How to make a split

In simplest terms, a split is made by dividing an existing colony into two or more parts. Many variations exist. In fact, the methods of making splits—and the reasons for making them—are as varied as the beekeepers who do them.

The most common reasons for making splits are to:

While there are many different ways to do a split, you must follow of number of guidelines if you expect success.

  • Use overwintered colonies. A brand new colony from a nuc or package does not have the resources needed for a good split.
  • Use strong colonies. If you split a weak colony, you get even weaker ones—if any. The larger the colony, the better your chance of success.
  • A split will need a queen provided for it or it must be able to produce a queen.
  • If you expect a split to produce a queen, drones must be available. The more drones actively flying, the better.
  • If you expect a split to produce a queen, it must also have fresh eggs or newly hatched larvae, plenty of nurse bees, pollen, and honey.
  • The brood nest of a split must imitate normal nest structure—worker brood in the center, drone brood on the outer edges of the worker brood, pollen on both sides of the nest, honey on both sides of the pollen.
  • A split needs protection from robbers in the form of a reduced entrance or robbing screen.

Even when you do everything right, a split won’t always succeed. If after a few days there is no sign of queen rearing, you will need to add more fresh eggs or newly hatched larvae. If it fails a second time, it is best to recombine the split with another hive.

The easiest type of split is made by using a populous hive where the brood nest spans two brood boxes. The beekeeper simply takes off the top box and puts it on its own bottom board, adds a lid, and walks away.

But even that simple form of split requires some attention for success, especially if you don’t know where the queen is:

Finally, here are some additional considerations, regardless of the type of split you make:

  • When splitting the hive and dividing resources, concentrate on the number nurse bees, not the number of foragers. If you are splitting within your own apiary (or within a two-mile radius of it) the foragers will return to their original hive or to the split that contains their queen. Try to ignore these foragers and concentrate on the number of nurse bees that will be in each split. The nurses are the key to making the split work.
  • You can put splits side-by-side, no problem. Just remember that for a long time, the part without a queen will look like no one is home. Gradually, as nurses become foragers, the discrepancy will decrease. Don’t let the number of foragers in the one part freak you out. If the split is raising a queen, everything is working according to plan.
  • Remember to provide adequate honey (or syrup) and pollen (or pollen supplement), especially to the part with few foragers. Since that part doesn’t have a workforce collecting materials from the field, it may need extra supplies to raise that first batch of brood.

Even though it sounds complex, don’t be afraid to try this. It works amazingly well, allowing you to both increase the number of hives and raise your own local queens. At the bottom of the page on the “Splits” tab on the main menu are links to several different types of splits you can try, and later this week I will be adding another.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite