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The mystery of the dead drones

I wasn’t going to write about this until I figured it out, but I’m coming up blank. On July 5, I checked my top-bar hive and saw a massive pile of dead bees on the ground just outside the entrance. My first thought: pesticide kill. I’ve seen pesticide kills before and it looked just the same.

But the hive was churning with bees. With my hive tool, I sifted through the mound of dead bodies and discovered it was all drones—thousands of them. Not drone pupae, but fully–formed adults. Heaps of dead drones are not unusual as fall approaches and drone eviction is well under way, but this was the beginning of July. What was going on?

Unlike the rest of the country, the Pacific Northwest coast had a cold and wet spring. In fact, now that July is more than half gone, I am still wearing a jacket on most days. Up through July 5 we were still having days in the 60s and nights in the 40s. The bees couldn’t possibly think it was summer, but did they think it was fall? Were they evicting drones prematurely based on the temperature?

There is no dearth as of yet, the forest and fields where I live are laden with wildflowers producing both nectar and pollen. And since the rainy season wasn’t over by July 5—and it still hasn’t quite given up—water was plentiful.

Someone suggested the hive might be queenless. I’m not sure I follow: Do queenless hives eject drones? I’ve never heard of that. But I checked anyway. Although I didn’t find the queen, I found young brood, sealed brood (including more drones) and scads of honey and pollen.

Now almost two weeks later, nothing has changed. The hive is abustle with bees that are bearding on the front and underside of their home every day even though the days are mild and the nights are chilly. They remained camped outside during several days of thunderstorms, and they were even festooning in long strings from the landing board. I didn’t see any evidence of swarming or swarm preparation.

As far as I can tell everything looks normal except the boneyard out front. I thoroughly checked my other hives—all Langstroths—and found no dead drones anywhere. So, I’m looking for theories. Does anyone have a thought?

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

Dead drones under the top-bar hive. All the dark material you see laying around is composed of dried and crispy drones as well.
Dead drones under the top-bar hive. All the dark material you see laying around is composed of dried and crispy drones as well.
Bearding on the top-bar hive. You can barely see the three hive openings.
Bearding on the top-bar hive. You can barely see the three hive openings.
You can see bees bearding under the top-hive as well as in front. They have a screened bottom board that they are hanging from.
You can see bees bearding under the top-hive as well as in front. They have a screened bottom board that they are hanging from.

Queenless or clueless?

It happens. You open your hive and you can’t find your queen. Worse, you see no young brood—no larvae, no eggs. Several things are possible:

  • Your queen is dead.
  • Your queen is failing and is being superseded.
  • Your queen has swarmed.
  • You have a queen that hasn’t started laying.
  • You have a virgin queen.

At this point, you wonder what to do. You could buy a queen, but maybe you have a virgin queen or a newly mated queen and you just didn’t see her. Or maybe you can’t find her because she’s out on a mating flight this very minute. You hate the idea of adding a new queen, only to have them duke it out later. So what do you do?

The very best and least risky thing you can do is add a frame or two of mixed brood from another hive. By mixed brood, I mean brood in various stages of development from eggs to larvae to capped pupae. Here’s why:

  • A good supply of eggs and recently hatched larvae means the colony can raise a queen on their own if they need one. And if they don’t need one, no harm is done.
  • Brood, especially larvae, give off pheromones that reduce the likelihood of laying workers even if no queen is present.
  • If a queen needs to be raised, the capped brood and older larvae will supply the colony with new workers in the meantime.

As you can see, the colony—whether queenless or not—has everything to gain and nothing to lose with an infusion of brood. But what about the hive you stole from? Are you running a risk of weakening that colony?

A little judgment is useful when stealing brood. If you steal it from a populous and thriving hive, it won’t make any difference as long as you don’t accidentally take the queen. Shake all the bees from the frames you take to make sure you don’t have her.

If the hive you steal from is of only moderate strength, take frames that contain mostly eggs. The reason is that the donor colony hasn’t spent a lot of time, energy, or resources on a frame of eggs and it won’t take long for the colony to replace it. Larvae and capped brood, on the other hand, have taken a great deal of effort. So, if you are at all concerned about the strength of the donor colony, stick to stealing eggs—it’s like taking pennies instead of dollars.

The beauty of this system is that you don’t have to know whether you have a queen or not, or whether she’s a virgin or not. If they need a queen they can raise one. And if they don’t, you’ve done no harm.

A final thought: whenever I write something like this I realize there are beekeepers with only one hive. I can’t think of anything trickier. If you have only one hive—or if you haven’t yet started beekeeping—consider getting a second colony. It doesn’t just double your options; it multiplies them many times over.

Rusty
HoneyBeeSuite

The queen can quickly replace lost eggs. Flickr photo by steveburt1947.
The queen can quickly replace lost eggs. Flickr photo by steveburt1947.

The biggest threat to bees today . . .

. . . is the beekeeper

We like to think we know better than the bees about what is good for them, play scientist, and put all manner of elixirs and whatnot in the hives. We tend to root through the brood nests more often than needed because we feel the urge to do “something” for the bees, and maybe so we can claim victory when a colony manages to survive a season of our clumsy interventions. And, as often as not, we just do plain stupid things without thinking about it—that’s where I come into this story.

When Rusty invited me to do a guest post, I said “sure!” without giving it too much thought. Then I started poking around this site to try and get an idea for a topic and quickly realized that I had been bamboozled. WTF! Rusty has already written about pretty much every topic thinkable, what was left to expound upon?

Luckily (?!) I sometimes do stupid things around the bee yard. Maybe this is an area that Rusty is less familiar with, and that I can provide some insight into for you, the esteemed reader of Honey Bee Suite.

Please refer to the photo below to see what awaited me at a yard where we had installed packaged bees the previous evening.

Why are these bees clustered outside on a cold night?
Why are these bees clustered outside on a cold night?

We thought we had gone to reasonable lengths to prepare the hives so the bees could stay warm, dry, and well-fed in this typical spring weather for southern B.C. (it has snowed briefly three times and rained daily since we hived them a week ago)–we even made quilt boxes.

So then why, oh why, did the bees in hive 106 decide to spend the night clustered outside when the temperature was 35.6°F, instead of enjoying a few shots of sugar syrup and getting all cuddly with each other inside their new home?

The answer, of course, as evidenced in the second photo, is the beekeeper.

The reason? A queen cage holding a dead queen.
The reason? A queen cage holding a dead queen.

The bees are simply trying to stay close to their queen—their cold, dead queen who was deposited on their doorstep by an unthinking beekeeper. I can only imagine what kind of message they thought we were trying to send; it’s no wonder they couldn’t sleep inside after that kind of welcome.

The extra stupid part is that I knew better, but I didn’t listen to that little voice in my head, and my back-up system (the little voice outside my head named Chelsea) did not question my error. We have poured packages for beekeepers that like to have the cages with dead queens left at the hive doorstep so they can easily see which ones to re-queen when they come back. At those times I have wondered if it was a good idea since the bees might be attracted by the dead queen pheromones, but the beekeepers asked us to do it on multiple occasions so I figured it must have been working for them. But why in the world did I do it this time?

Anyways, I scooped the cluster back into the hive, hoped they had enough life in them to rebound, and gave them a new queen later. At this point the news is good on all fronts: 1) The bees are still alive as of five days later, 2) I confirmed that bees can be drawn out of the hive by a dead queen (What did I tell you about beekeepers “playing scientist?”), and 3) I finally have a topic for a blog post.

Take home message? Umm . . . don’t do what I do . . . or maybe . . . think first, and try not do something stupid to your bees? Every possible beekeeping error has likely already been made countless times, so there’s no need to be shy about telling others about yours (that’s what the comment section is for, right?). And if you ever want to hear about more of my mistakes, then feel free to visit Chelsea and me over at The Honey Beat.

Jeff
The Honey Beat

Editor’s Note: I’m an avid reader of The Honey Beat. Because Jeff and Chelsea are employed by commercial beekeepers, they have gained a unique perspective on beekeeping as well as a world of experience in a very short time. I always learn something new when I read their blog. Then too, I’ve been impressed by the quality of the writing at The Honey Beat, so I was elated when Jeff agreed to write a guest post. The result is a fascinating story; it proves that if anything can go wrong in beekeeping, it will  . . . and it does. Be sure to check out other stories on their blog.

Rusty

In service to her majesty

Blogger, photographer, and antspert Alex Wild says it is permissible to post photos of my cat on my bee blog only if I dress him up like a stinging insect. My cat is way too dignified to be dressed as anything but himself, but he performs royally as the queen’s bodyguard. The role fits him perfectly.

As an aside, please note that Alex’s own cats are not dressed as ants on his blog, so I’m not sure what he’s up to.

Dizzykin guarding the queens.
Dizzykin guarding the queens.

Two queens in one hive

Although we are taught that two queens can’t survive in one hive, it happens frequently. It occurs most often when a supersedure cell hatches while the original queen is still alive. The virgin daughter hatches, mates, and begins to lay eggs right alongside her mother. This is usually a temporary situation, but it can persist for weeks or even months.

Based on my own experience, I think it happens more frequently than we realize. We often search for the queen and then quit looking once we find her—assuming there is only one. With that assumption, it is easy to miss the second one.

The photos below came from a hive getting ready to swarm. Many swarm cells were lined up on the combs and some had already hatched. It’s possible that one of these is a newly-hatched virgin. The more yellow of the two (the first photo) was both smaller and quicker, signs of a possible virgin. Although a hive usually swarms before the virgins hatch, cold and rainy weather may have kept the swarm from leaving on time.

Rusty

The first queen I found in this hive. She was small with a light-colored abdomen.
The first queen I found in this hive. She was small with a light-colored abdomen.
The second queen was larger with a darker abdomen.
The second queen was larger with a darker abdomen.