I heard the roaring sound again and looked out. Pansy?!! What’s it been, five days? Since a giant contingent of the bees just departed from Pansy, I had a hard time even believing what I was seeing, although, a swarm is pretty unmistakable. Not possible. There aren’t enough bees left to split again. There were.
I was completely expecting Violet to swarm. Violet hive is huge and strong. Both V and P were full of queen cells when I checked them, so I’m sort of hoping for a Violet swarm, but who knows, maybe they needed to requeen.
I was planning to do other things, but I had a swarm to rehome, so I did that instead. I got my outfit on, and set up a box to put them in.
They were so good to me. They balled up at knee level on a branch I could snip, right next to the hive yard. What a relief, and change of pace. Look how easy they’ll be to move! A very small bee ball, but there is also a pile of bees on the ground, almost as many, and still many in the air at this point.After my first snip dislodged a clump of bees from the hanging ball, I got a box. Not too helpful. I placed a stick as a ladder, hoping the ground bees would go up and rejoin. They didn’t.I snipped the main ball off, walked it over to the box,and in they go.I went back to collect the pool of bees on the ground.
I picked up the loose twigs one at a time and knocked them into my box, which really just made them airborne again. Unfortunately, they were piled up centralized on a big dirty root ball. I thought, can I just pull that whole root ball out? Yahoo, I could. However, have you ever tried to yank a root out of the ground smoothly? Doesn’t happen.
I put the root by the hive box and took a break to wait for them all to walk inside, with a helpful twig ladder. I come back out.
The root ball is completely clean of bees, cool. But what’s this?Bees have regrouped on the next branch over!
Repeat: snip, carry, deposit bees in the box. (this is bee shipment #3)There is still a big pool of bees on the ground.This time they are wrapping around a larger piece of wood.
Around this time I notice that there seem to be more bees outside the hive than inside. They are walking out and walking all over the outside of the hive. The sticks inside the box are clean of bees, so I can clean up in there.Now the bees are pooling on the ground where the root ball was, and I can’t imagine why this spot is so interesting. I get the big branch with the bees on it on the box, and then start scooping bees by hand. Let no bee be left behind. Then I bring bee shipment #4 to the hive. Turns out there are many more bees involved here than it originally looked like. Calloo, callay! They’ve gone back inside! The tide has reversed and they’ve chosen to stay, at least for the night. Bees are so neat when they’re swarmed. Tickly, all vibrating and buzzing, but for a change, they aren’t on the job. Bees normally are at work, and tolerate your disruption in the hive because they’re just too focused, mostly, until you really get in their way. Bees in swarm are like they’re on vacation. Not on any mission at all, relaxed. Look at the handful of bees, walking off my hand and in the door. At this point it started to rain, like clockwork (2pm before an evening downpour is apparently optimum time to swarm), so I put a big lid on, sheltering the ball of bees in the box at the threshold, and left them to walk in, now that the decision to stay had apparently been made.
Yay! A new hive! I’ve barely got enough hive parts now to catch one more swarm, should Violet split as I’ve been expecting.
I had a big bee day, doing all things bee. Building frames and parts, hive inspection, expansion, and more. They needed all kinds of things, including a yard cleanup. I doubt I would have lost that swarm if I was on this a few days earlier, but what’s flown is flown.
Now all the hives are set on concrete pads, all the wood scraps are cleaned up, and the bee yard looks more classy bee apartment structures, less bee shantytown. They even got their hive names labeled. I’m pleased with the look now.
Both Violet and Pansy had a short move. I had to shift them a couple feet to get them on the pads (while disassembled down to the last super, so that I could lift them). For over an hour, there was a swirl of bees in the space where Pansy hive had been – the workers returning and finding the hive missing from where they expected it to be, then noisily drifting over and discovering it. Where’d everyone go?! Oh, there y’all are. Phew. Man, my gps must be off today. Yours too?Violet adjusted better. I did a comprehensive hive inspection, checking every frame on all the hives, which takes quite a while for a tall hive. Amazingly, I didn’t get stung at all in all that shifting and working within a cloud of bees, and killed very few individuals. Only one for certain. They were very patient, although there was a tense moment when I tried to use the bee brush and they lost their minds. They hate the bee brush with a berserker level intensity. I should probably just get rid of that thing; it’s dangerous to be associated with. One swipe! I stood perfectly still, holding it at arms length and wincing while the bees went nuts stinging it and making rage sounds, then put it away and resumed being patient when they subsided. Phew! We showed that brush. That brush won’t be showing its bristles around here anytime soon.
They’re all thriving. Violet has also grown out of their terrible habit of wildly building burr comb and gluing all the frames together, which is very nice.
All this and I finished putting them all back together minutes before the sky started to drip!
I had a hive swarm yesterday (What is that roaring sound? Oh.)
They went up in a big pine tree, and while they landed on a nice 3″ branch that could be sawed off, they were 40’+ up, and very much out of my reach this time.
I quickly prepared a bait box (inviting new home, move in ready), with that new hive smell (lemongrass, honey and old comb). They ignored it. I prepared a second one, too, in another location.
Then they left. I heard them leaving and tried to follow them, but they lost me. They can fly.
I hope they found a nice place. I won’t be able to help them survive the winter now, but if they do, perhaps the next split will return. Apartment living with food included maybe not so bad.
I’m out here restoring the wild bee populations. This was a huge swarm, too, twice the size of last year’s. I took pictures but they didn’t save, unfortunately (memory card error?), so I’ll have to rely on the mental picture. It’s actually the same split that swarmed last year and I collected (Pansy hive), that just split again. And left. They clearly lean to swarminess.
I’m disappointed to lose a whole hive’s worth of bees like that, but there was nothing more I could do. I got the bait box out promptly, and I didn’t have a chance to have gotten them out of the tree, even if I had made the attempt, because they left so fast. In less than an hour, they departed, headed northeast into the woods. It’s like they’d decided on the new place already and just paused on the pine to regroup. Or else the scouts worked quick, which means their new location is close, and there’s a possibility I will find them in the woods. I’m not betting on that.
T.G.I. Flyday here today. All my hives are alive, and many, many bees were out flying today in the warmth.
I got to feed them, and replace some straw in the top of their hives; I was happy to find that the wet mouldy straw was only around the top and outside edge – where it was nearest the roof and corners. Nested around the bottle of syrup and the opening in the center the straw was dry and golden, bees dry.Bees were everywhere, all over the paths, in the chicken bucket, and all over.
The guineas were unperturbed, scritching around right in the middle of the hive while the bees were thick in the air. They don’t care. This is the first time we’ve had guineas that come and hang out at the house (thanks to Galahad raising them), which is great, because this is where they need to do their tick-eating thing. That’s what I hired them for.
It’s just SO weird to put on a bee suit in January. However, it was a warm day, so my bees came out to poop, and I was able to feed them.
By warm I mean that in 24 hours the temp shot up from -10°C to the opposite, plus 10°C, wiping out all the snow, and exposing all the gross wet wood and dirt (now the mercury is rapidly falling again). It’s the February melt look; it can hardly look worse. Everything is hideous.But such warmth meant that the bees were very excited, and all three hives came airborne in big numbers! It’s good for bees to get warmed up a few times in the winter, enough for them to be able to fly, so they can leave their house and poop outside. Yes, bees poop, and they’re housebroken, so they hold it until they can get outside rather than foul their house. It’s not good for them to hold it too long. I was planning to seize the warm day to feed them, but seeing the bees pouring out, bearding on the fronts of the boxes and making a cloud around each box, I figured I had to suit up. They were mild, not testy at all, and seemed excited to shake their wings out, get their buzz on.
Small hive first- this is my swarm hive of 2018 (my first! eep!)
They have 2″ of styrofoam around three sides, and tarpaper, to promote sun-warming on the face of their box. For the first time, this year I wrapped their hives such that I could still get the outer lids off and replace their jars of syrup in the eke/lounge. I’m so happy with this; I have already been in twice, and the big hives have emptied their jars each time. It’s nice to see if they’re surviving, and feeding them will increase those odds.The cafe (top section) is filled with straw to absorb condensation. It’s doing its job- it’s wet and mouldy around the edges. Hopefully I can replace it once this winter too, because, mould spores. The empty jar lifts out and the full one goes in.
There is a ball of bees in there!
Because of the knot of bees, complaining *Hey, where’d our jar go?!* I have to set the jar back in *verrrrrry* slowly and carefully, so they can get out of the way. I don’t want to crush anyone or trap a leg.
Now dissuading bees to vacate the danger zone to re-lid.
Also verrrry slowly…
Hoo! No bees squished.
Again, January!!! Bees filling the air like it’s August. Crawling all over me, pooping everywhere. Little yellow dots speckling everything – my suit, the roofs, the ground.
Some poops are bigger than others. That’s one pictured low center.
Lastly, the largest hive, wintering in a three super stack.
I worked from a ladder in the summer when this was a skyscraping bee tower.I’m so glad all hives seem well.
There’s a big PS to this.
I wrote this yesterday (originally posted Jan 26 on Steempeak) and had trouble with the uploads, cursing my browser as my bedtime passed and the rain started and the wind picked up and picked up some more, and up, and up…
The wind got a little scary, rattling the house (overnight it ripped two pieces of roofing off the woodshed), and I abandoned blogging and ran out, afraid that a hive would blow over. The two bigger hives are ratchet strapped to the ground, but still. A gust of wind broke an alder off right on top of me, and the big hive shook. I put a few more clicks on the ratchets, and then I noticed the bees.
There were dozens of living bees on the ground in front of each hive, and all around – there are little twig-like plants about 8″ high all over – there were bees in singles or pairs clinging to the top of dozens of these, like life rafts. They didn’t look very alive, motionless with water beaded on their fur, but they were. Also little groups of five or so with their heads together (like a star anise) were clumped together on the flat wood “footings”. They’d been caught out. As it cooled in the afternoon, they’d been stuck outside on the ground, and climbed up as high as they could, and were clinging on in the wind and pelting rain to the tips of the twigs and each other.
The little twigs didn’t break by hand so it was easiest to get scissors and cut them off, and then use the stick it was gripping to poke the frozen bee back into its door and they dragged themselves inside. They were slow to let go, and could hardly walk or hold onto my fingers, but one at a time, I moved dozens of bees back into safety by flashlight, out in my bathrobe in the pelting rain. A few found my legs, clinging to me for warmth. This counts as an exciting night for me, but I did not get stung.
The bees are almost wrapped. They have their foam on, and I think I’ve really sorted out my wrapping method this year.
The hives each get foam on three sides plus tar paper, that wraps the front of the hive too and absorbs heat. The foam I’ve figured out how to get it on quick and easy. First, the three sided “box” is made.Look at my fancy two step carving- a nice seal. Foam is so easy to carve. Then I tape that together with Tuck tape, including a strip up the whole seam.
All that crap needs to come off the hive first- the strap holding the supers together (in case of wind), and the scabs on the eke, and the arms that hold the lighting board. Nothing screwed into the hive parts any more. Then the foam hugs the hive, right up to the bottom of the outer cover, and two straps of Tuck tape right across the face of the hive hold it on – avoid the handles and openings so nothing sticky is accessible. Done. The tar paper will be next stage, but in the meantime, they just got a big R-factor upgrade.Naturally, I did this one after dark, with a headlamp, because temps were falling, and I forgot the critical step: sealing the bees inside the hive, temporarily. I was hugging the hive, jostling the foam into snug place, and then bzzzzz! What’s going on out here? My sleeve came away from the upper entrance with eight cranky bees on it, and more came out the bottom door. Then I had to be very patient (I was in no mood to be patient- in the dark with a headlamp in falling temps), while each bee decided there was nothing to be concerned about and wandered back inside, one after also exploring the inside of my sleeve. I did not get stung. After they went in, I sealed them in and finished up. They all have absurd and excessive extra “coverings” at the moment because of the forecast rain and snowstorm (right now hammering down). It’s important to not get any water down between that foam and the hive, soaking into the wood, before I get the tar paper wrap, and I want to wrap them dry. It’s very wet right now. My lids all need a rebuild before they’re winter ready too, so in the meantime- draping.
My big idea this time is to wrap the tar paper in such a way that I can still get the lid off. Then I can feed them through the winter, and monitor the moisture in the straw. If we get wild episodes of warmth like we did last year, I’ll be able to take those lids off without unwrapping them. We’ll see if I can do it.
I was reducing the hives to get ready for winter (taking supers off for their more efficient winter acccomodation, which usually means taking honey off too. However, Sunflower is the hive that split, and they did not have as much honey as I hoped. I’m not entirely sure they have enough for themselves for the winter, and I debated bringing them down to one super, but I left them in two.
Pansy, the new hive, had the tidiest little house. Just perfectly arranged, no burr comb. Quite a bit of brood. They’ve been systematically at work since being installed.
Nobody was excited about being sugared, and Sunflower had had it with me by the time I was almost done. Thump thump thumpthumpthumpthumpthump on my head. I killed only one bee that I know of (right at the beginning of opening Pansy- I feel so bad whenever I kill a bee that was just busy going about her business). I got a few stings. They always sting the top of my thumbs (better than my fingertips), so now my hands look like they have a toothache. The one on the left hand started to run around her stinger, so I thought she was going to spin out, but then she chose to pull out her stinger. I wonder why they make that suicide call. If it has to do with the skin they’re stuck in that they think they can’t detach from it (maybe my thumbs are tough), or what. I’m pretty good with the stings so that I don’t flinch and flick them off, but I do keep working.
It’s a bit late for this step, but I was sick and it’s been raining, and there’s a week of nice warm weather ahead (and a long warm fall, supposedly). What is late is their bee syrup (it was raining!), and while I was cooking it, bees were coming in the house. Let’s have it. It’s about time.
I fancied that the corks were disappearing. Something’s eating them! They’re definitely disappearing. What is gnawing on them? Chipmunks, I presume. Rotten thieves.
The famous five in fact, love to rummage around around the hives, and jump up on them.That is the back of the hive, but they rummage equally well in the front. They go underneath. I’ve seen one jump up on the bee door closure stick.Meeting behind Pansy building! (My hives are plumb; the camera is tipped)
I’ve thought one would get stung, and that would be over, but no. It’s always just little tribe. They have the place to themselves.
At “dusk” (ok, dark), I got the hive box ready. One super full of drawn comb and fresh foundation, another empty super, and an eke. The whole empty upper box thing is to imitate a spacious swarm box. So they can all crowd up in the ceiling.Then I went to get the nuc box from the woods. Whoa! Quite a few bees on the outside of the box. More than before.They’re so neat. They’re like lined up in stacked rows. And quiet, just a low hum. It was bedtime.
Ok, so my big idea was just to put the box inside the hive, and let them flow out of the box in their own time. I was in no mood for dumping.Only problem, the nuc box is taller than my vacant woodenware is tall. One more super would be perfect, but literally the day before, I’d bumped up Violet another super, (I name my hives- this one will be Pansy, if all goes well) and had only two left. Would be plenty, except for unexpected eventualities.
Therefore, I improvised.One tub, and a hammock repurposed as a gasket, to close up the little gaps (about a quarter inch), because Rubbermaids aren’t Langstroth compatible. Quite close to the right size though.
Then I got to spend a half hour picking bees off myself. They were walking around; I think they’d walked off the box up my arms during the transfer, and were just dopey and confused. On my head, in pockets, on my back. You don’t want to peel off the suit and crush them in the process (sting, sting) or release bees in the house. I’d pluck them off and poke them back in and walk towards my door, dying to be finished and then buhzzz, buhzzz. Another one! Another two, four, eight, twelve. Finally I was clear.
The next day: Uhoh. There’s a breach in the gasket. They’re acting swarmy still, which could mean that they’re still sending out scouts to shop for the next place. Good, though, because it means I have to go in. I wanted to get in and take the nuc box out, and get rid of this stupid Tupperware arrangement, but was reading how I had to keep them locked in, and was conflicted.
Look what’s inside! Walls of bees. They’d vacated the nuc box alright, and I lifted that out, and there were straggling bees all over the it and the hammock. Many of them flew back while I was adjusting- pushing all the bees back off the edge so I could get a lid on them.After the lid was on, in the interest of no bee left behind, I went over each object (hammock, box, tub) one by one, cleaning off the bees and dropping them in the hole in the cover. Lots of them were walking. When almost all of them were in, and the rest airborne (they’ll be fine), I closed up the hole.
They had a completely different vibe today. Instead of the intense, excited potential, it was a much more chill, Sunday morning after the rave vibe. No casualties, no stings, and based just on their mood, I think that means they’ll stay. It could mean that they’re in a content waiting state, but I’m hoping it’s just cool down after the swarm, and soon they’ll go back to work.
Lots of wasps out lurking around, and the bees weren’t mounting their usual vigorous defense. I hardly see wasps now since their colonies seemed to “stop” at the beginning of August, but there were several, different kinds, getting involved today for some reason.
Oh, and Galahad is sitting on the keets! Sitting on them! Adorable.
There’s another awesome advantage to having your hives right outside your front windows (I love having the hives so close to the house; it’s often not recommended, but there’s much to be said for the close connection):
When you glance outside, five minutes after seeing nothing unusual, and see that they’re swarming!
It was sensational. I knew right away, because I’d never seen anything like it, and I could hear them roaring, too, from inside. I ran out and took a couple pictures.I always imagined a bee swarm was like, a cloud of bees, grouped together, like a thing you could point to. No. They’re zooming around in straight lines in all directions, buzzing loud like they’re angry (they must really be excited), and they just fill all the air. They filled the visible sky. You’d have to zoom out quite far before the swarm entity would appear like a cloud.
Then the air full of bees started to move.
All I remembered was that I would have to follow them, so I quickly grabbed a roll of flagging tape. Because of course they headed out over the densest, awfullest brush around here. I flagged my way in, thrashing after them, though they were easy to follow by ear – so loud!!
Seriously, ten minutes from “no unusual bee behaviour here”, to gone. Now if I’m going to be retroactively honest with myself, I think maybe one of my hives has split-swarmed before to vistas unknown. because there were times it seemed like fewer bees than there should be in the box when I opened. If they can go that fast, entirely possible.
They didn’t go too far. I got under the epicentre of their sound, looking up at them. They seemed to be concentrating. Their thousands of bodies in flight made a distortion like heat shimmer. And then, sure enough, I saw a crowd of bees starting to form on the trunk of the big maple I was under. That’s where they were choosing to stay. Ok.
Time to go home and google! (yes, first I pulled a couple physical books). I found out some things . Things like that they don’t initially go too far, they just make a temporary stop and send out scouts from there to find a new home. A little like committing to move by selling your home and moving all your stuff out before thinking about where you might go next, or calling any real estate agents. So the cluster of bees in this current temporary location could stay there a few days while deciding where to live henceforward (settling arguments comparing the great view in option A to the third bathroom in option B), or… maybe just an hour. Act fast. Don’t smoke them, do mist them with water (this was so clutch!). They’re full of honey, and docile.
I went back to the tree. The silence was striking, like the bees had turned off. They had all landed, and were quiet. I’d have never found them, visually, if I hadn’t followed them when they were noisy. They were way up on the maple, wrapped all around the trunk in a two foot band, like you might collar a tree to keep squirrels out of it. A band of bees instead of metal would be very effective against squirrels.
I got my long ladder, and climbed it, and learned that I needed another ten feet (twelve actually- I measured later, and the bees were 27+ feet up). Then I made at least six phone calls, to everyone I knew who might have an extension ladder, and a marginal interest in bees. No one answered.
Ok, time to work with what I got. I took apart my 3-way ladder and dragged a section of it up the first ladder, and lashed it to the tree for a second flight.
Just as I started rigging that, I heard a distant clap of thunder. Are you joking? Are you f#$%ing joking!!? (I was answered by another thunderclap, just in case I hadn’t heard correctly). And Really, bees? You picked a rain day? We’ve had a series of thunderstorm squalls the last week, and they move in fast, and dump sudden torrential amounts of rain. Because my heart wasn’t already pounding.
Then I gathered my stuff. Bee brush, string, squirt bottle. A bucket? I went with a nuc box. (spoiler- should have used the bucket- it would have been easier to tie to the tree and to carry down on my arm, or lower down).
Last, I made one more call, to leave “the message”: Umm, if I don’t call again by 4:30, the place to look is at the bottom of a tree, follow the flag line from the beehives. But this time someone answered the phone, and ground support was mobilized:)
Up in the tree, at the top of my ladders, I was quite comfortable. Nice view. I dragged up all my stuff in a couple of trips and stationed it in the branches. I tied the cardboard nuc box securely to the trunk of the tree below the cluster, and started scooping bees and dropping them into the box.
So, this is the good part, and there are no pictures, because trust me, none of this situation screams “Selfie time!” I had lots of things on my mind and God I wish I could take pictures of this! only passed through fleetingly. I really wish – but it was out of the question.
Standing on the top rung I could just reach the bees with my bee brush. Although they were thickly wrapped all the way around, the heaviest mass of them was on the far side of the trunk from me, so I was reaching around and trying to shake chunks of them loose and quickly scoop them into the box.
Bees hate the bee brush (but I couldn’t reach without it – later when they were lower I could just use my hands). They hate it with a fiery passionate fury that supersedes their much touted docility when swarming. I don’t know why they hate the bee brush so much; maybe it tickles. Or pokes. But it incites them to wild rage. It’s actually funny to watch them attack the brush so viciously, seething with hate, uselessly stinging the brush hairs with all their might. But I was attached to the brush – guilt by association, and I took a few stings. The squirt bottle was amazing. I’d feverishly mist around my head when I got a cloud of buzzers mad at the brush, and they’d go placid like they forgot all about it, and settle back down.
After I got a few stings, I went down and got out of tree-climbing-appropriate wear, into my bee suit. Because limited visibility and loose snaggable fabric will be just the ticket! Back up in the cloud scooping bees, my friend arrived at the foot of the tree. I could hardly hear him for the bees humming at my head, like standing next to a big diesel. The ground support was really helpful, though, because he could see the other side of the trunk that I couldn’t, and report if I was making headway (“What?”) , and “Up! Down”, (“What!?”) to get remaining clumps.
It seemed to go pretty well. I was getting bees into the box. Only thing, they seemed to want to come out of the box. It was like a really slow boil over. I’d dump bees in, they’d flow back over the top of the box. I’d scoop them back in with my hands. The upper trunk was mostly cleared – blessedly, they did not move away upwards. They were teeming out of the box and wrapping the tree again lower down.
I went down tree for a break, and because I needed snips. I was shaking, dripping with sweat, suit soaked, feet sore from the ladder rungs, but exhilarated. Seems I was exerting myself to balance and cling to the tree and work.
Back up, now the air smells like rain, the wind is coming up (still thundering), there’re more bees out of the box than in, and I’m getting reports from the ground that masses of them are clumping on the back/trunk side of the box (that I can’t see). I figure the queen must be in the vicinity now, no longer up on the original spot (good!), and I decide I have to untie the box from the trunk and move it down, so that I can sweep bees into the box again.
I have to interject for a moment how awesome this all was (while also being risky and sketchy). All these bees! Individuals, but together, a fluid mass. You never get to experience the hive as an undiluted entity. Unlike when you handle a frame covered with bees, now, the “thing” is the bees. You can hold a handful, a baseball sized chunk, of bees! They’re hot! And vibrating. There is a penumbra of potential energy around them, a considerable power, humming, vibrating my arm. Amazing!
I had to get a grip on the box now, and untie the strings I’d lashed it to the tree with, using knots that I’d tied without the untying in mind. It was all neater than this in my imagination of how it would go. But the box is covered, inches deep in bees, as are the strings, and there are multiple random little maple branches dipped into the box that are now one with the bees- I had to snip those off. I had to reach into the bees to hold the box, and again to expose my knots, and untie with one hand, while supporting the box. The bees are heavy!
I lowered the box a couple feet, and then I had to tie it on again, because I had to hold myself on the tree with one hand and use the other to scoop bees. I never had two hands free. My second tying, one handed, tree swaying now, was much less secure than the first, and I worried the string would give suddenly, and the box drop. I swept the bees in. I was seriously tired now. Almost two hours in, and the soles of my feet were asleep, I was shaking like hard shivers, it was imminently going to rain, and it had just occurred to me that I had NO IDEA how I was going to bring this box down a ladder that I absolutely needed two hands to climb, as it was straight vertical. Not a clue. And I’m watching my string around the box slip further with every movement of the tree.
I was definitely making an effort to keep my priorities straight:
Don’t fall out of the tree
Don’t drop the box of bees
Don’t hurt any bees. In that order! (it’s easy to flinch from a sting or to avoid crushing a bee, and flinches can become slips).
I was hugging the tree and box together, it started to rain, and wanting to cover the box, I realized the lid was out of my reach! I’d moved down, and it was still lodged in the branches above us. I could just touch it using my bee brush. As I was frantically whacking at that, trying to dislodge it, the rain started to pound down in big thumping thunderstorm drops. I realized I had a very limited window left, and I had to get down, with the bees, now. With the combination of desperation, fatigue, and the bee magic vibrating through my upper body as I hugged the box, I kinda blacked out a bit and don’t remember any thoughts or “hows” until it was over, but the lid came loose, I set it on the boiling-over bees, balanced the box on my shoulder and upper arm using my head (cheek and ear to this magical radiating box), and got down. At some point the lid was knocked off and went down on its own.
The rain didn’t last long. The remaining clumps of bees in the tree came into the air, confirming that the queen must be in the box, as the bees appeared to have changed their minds and direction, and were now headed into the box. Yes! When I came back after the squall, they were almost all in.
Doesn’t look like it’s all that dramatic, does it? The bucket is for the rain- there’s a big screen window in the top of these boxes.
WOW! So exciting!
On the bright side, swarm catching will probably be easier from here on out. I’m sure swarm catching events can be much harder than that, but really, I think they are often much easier. Location, location, location! So this was one heck of a beekeeper threshold experience. Next thresholds: being called to collect a swarm from somewhere else, and having a swarm voluntarily arrive. Heard this is a nice place with vacancies.
The story’s not over yet. They still have to get into a hive at dusk, but, that will be part two. I manage that just about as elegantly.
The bee swarm managed to eclipse not only Cotton and chicks first going out on the grass today (old hat for Daisy) and Foxy’s fourth chick (it’s a mom-sitter), but also the arrival of NEW BABIES- GUINEA KEETS! Galahad will be so excited; he hasn’t seen them yet as it was almost dark and they stayed in their box.
It was a huge day! To think it started out with me thinking “I think I’ll call this a day off. Just do what I feel like, maybe get in a nap. ” Ha ha. Ha.