Lots to Do in the Beeyard

Tags

beekeeping, honey bee behavior, humor, management

The first venture into the hives after winter is probably one of the most difficult and dreaded for me each year. The bees have burr combed up all my minor violations of bee space and propolized everything together such that my inspections never go quite as planned. Then there’s always that space between boxes where the bottom bars of the frames above become connected to the top bars of the frames below. The bees, having not been allowed much in the way of drone comb find this a great spot to build drone comb and raise spring drones. The hives in question today, that had been deferred ten days ago, reminded me why I didn’t really want to deal with them ten days ago as I should have.

But things must be handled and there’s always the knowledge that afterwards the hives are easier to work for the remainder of the season.

My first adventure today was into a well populated two story nucleus hive I overwintered. The bees objected somewhat but adequate smoke kept them in check while I rotated a full box off the top and replaced it with drawn comb and returned some of their stores. I was happy to get out of there though as I was spending far too long performing my tasks being a little rusty and not having every widget available as I normally like.

I did the same for several more nucleus hives and started in on the ten framers that still had feeding shims in place. That’s when the trouble started. Entire feeding shims filled with willy-nilly comb in all directions and filled with honey and drone brood. And black with bees covering everything and spilling out over the hive body edges and covering the underside of the inner cover. A little smoke helped move them but nothing short of a rap of the inner cover on the box dislodged them back into the uppermost hive body. Unhappy bees; unhappy beekeeper. Usually though they settled down shortly. Once I had to take a walk with them following me for 100 feet or so. I was probably not working them slow enough in the hive nor fast enough overall to get out of their domain. Get ‘er done, and I was almost there.

I had passengers (bees) in the truck with me as a drove away from the last hive. Windows down, suit on, and proud of myself having gotten the deed done without a sting through my glove or on top of my head as sometimes happens with the veil pulled down tight.

Oh, what’s that? A hive over by my main stretch of ten framers with it’s brick standing on end. Usually I use this brick position to indicate a queenless condition but I remembered from ten days ago why I stood it up then. The bees were too thick and they were too irritable to bother so I deferred and stood the brick up. Having completed all except this one hive I decided to stop and complete today’s task list. Only take a minute – probably.

The bees were still thick under that inner cover and they had the entire feeding shim filled with honey comb and drone brood. Most of it hung down off the inner cover. I smoked them down and waited. They kept coming back up in short order. As mentioned earlier, there tends to be an overall time limit for bees after which they just say, “You’re done here.” I was running out of time and knew it. I had a thought to go back to the barn and get a bottle of Bee Go to run them down out of that shim with its unpleasant odor. But my dilemma was time. Things weren’t going to get better in ten minutes. I was already taking a heavy bombardment of bees against my veil. I decided it would be best to shake the inner cover of bees into the shim and smoke them some more. After a couple shakes most of the bees dislodged and I was able to get the inner cover and the shim removed. I scrapped the honey and drone comb into a ready bucket and thought I’d better close up. Then, as one does when they are tired, a bad decision presented itself to me. While it’s good to know that I’m still capable of decisions at my age, bad ones just stink. I decided as I reached for the replacement inner cover that the bees were so thick I had better check for swarm cells between the boxes. Okay, that’s a quick hive tool between the boxes, a tilt upward, and I should be done – right? Well, there was drone brood between the boxes as I should have known, and maybe in my haste I forgot to smoke them down. Or maybe I did and they were so thick they had nowhere to go. I took my hive tool and scrapped the first top bar and my gloved had was covered. Second top bar and they have decided to cover my entire right arm. Third scraping and they are like Velcro on my jacket and veil. I can’t remember the final strokes as I was in get ‘er done mode. I did get the box down and in place when I started to feel the stings though my jeans and forearms. Oh my! Folks, when they decide they have no place left to light on you other than your jeans you’ve stayed far too long.

I started walking, stopping occasionally to brush some off. New beekeepers, remember I told you to buy a brush! I walked and walked and covered a hundred yards. Finally I headed back. I still had to replace the inner and telescoping covers. I did so and had to walk again with irritable bees. I had made every mistake I could have, overstayed my welcome by a stretch, rapid movements, and kept coming back when they said, “GO!” One last trip and I eased into my waiting truck and drove off fully suited with about twenty bees that decided it best they give me an escort.

Done but not proud of my finesse on this one. Maybe I’ll go back for my smoker later, or tomorrow. Wonder where my hive tool is?

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Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne

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beekeeping humor, Winnie the Pooh

“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think.  Because although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.”             -A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

The Number 6 Method of determining honey bee queenlessness

Tags

beekeeping, humor, opinion

Always eager to improve methods of hive assessment, I have now developed the non-invasive queenlessness test method, hereafter known as The Number 6 Method.

Step one: Suit up well. No, really well as in “rubber bands around your pant’s cuffs” well. An extra cap under your veil is also advised.

Step Two: Clear the yard of bystanders.

Step Three: Crank up your riding mower and proceed to cut a swath directly down the front of your hives at normal cutting speed. If the mower hits a stob or cuts off during this procedure be prepared to abandon ship.

Step Four: Do not stop but as you loop away from the hives take a brief glance at the front of the hives. If a hive appears to be swarming out the front entrance console yourself that they aren’t swarming.

Step Five: If this was the hive you suspected of being queenless, the final assessment should present itself almost instantly in the form of a cloud of 50 -100 bees now chasing you and your lawnmower.

Step Six: Feel good about not unduly disturbing the bees with invasive inspections to determine queenlessness. You deserve a pat on the back as you shift into Number 6 on the lawnmower’ s speed control. With any luck they won’t follow you more than 100 yards. Be amazed at how honey bees can stick to your veil like Velcro.

Step Seven: Properly performed, this test should be conducted at the end of your beekeeping day. Returning to the bee yard sooner that 12 hours is not advised.

Embarrassing as it is, the above is based on a true story.

Gray Squirrels and Pollen Feeders

Tags

beekeeping, humor

(Above) Eastern Gray Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) in pollen feeder. This is a picture of last year’s pollen feeder hanging outside my wood shop. Only it might as well have been called a squirrel feeder. They have to eat too and pollen substitute is high in protein!

(Below) And here are a few pictures of this year’s effort. No squirrels this year after placing the feeders on PVC pipe and greasing the pipe. A little plastic protrudes over the opening to protect the pollen from any rain.

 

My cell phone is sticky. By Christine at The B(ee)log

Tags

bee humor, beekeeping, beekeeping humor, humor

A little humor in the bee yard always helps as this article by Christine at The B(ee)log demonstrates. Cheers! sassafrassbeefarm

On my last colony check, I leaned over too far and my cell phone slipped out of my pocket. Neither the bees nor my phone were best pleased by this occurrence, but we all survived largely unscathed. (Note to self: Phone goes in lower suit pocket, not upper pocket!)

Fortunately, much like buttered toast, cell phones always land screen-down. Actually, this usually isn’t fortunate at all – but it was today. That universal law meant my phone didn’t slip between the frames, so I could pick it up again quickly. Although I can picture the discussion with the repair tech if that had gone another way…

via My cell phone is sticky. — The B(ee)log

Beekeeping Humor – Self Incrimination, You have a Right to a Lawyer by Stephen Bishop

Tags

beekeeping humor

Apparently, I had been speeding down a South Carolina highway without wearing my seatbelt (uncharacteristic, I swear) and couldn’t provide a logical answer to a state trooper’s question, “So where you heading?” My conundrum was I didn’t know where I was heading. I was searching the countryside for a logging crew, any logging crew to photograph. I had just written an article, in fact my first ever as a freelancer, for Grit magazine on forest management, and the editor wanted photos to accompany it. The state trooper doubted my story and asked me to exit the car and follow his finger with my eyeballs without moving my head. Then he proceeded to tell me to recite the alphabet backwards from M.

You try.

It’s difficult, even sober. I was sober but petrified because my story sounded ridiculous. After walking a line, toe to toe, which isn’t so easy either under the gaze of a lawman, the trooper asked if he could search my backpack in the passenger’s seat. I consented thankfully. If not, I might have been escorted to the slammer. In that backpack was a copy of William Zinsser’s On Writing Well and about a year’s worth of Writer’s Digest. After that, the trooper handed me a seatbelt violation and let me go on my aimless way.

Today I use that same backpack to tote beekeeping stuff. It contains, among other things, a crowbar-looking thing with a little hook on the end that looks like a perfect tool for burglary. I have a grafting tool that looks like a lock pic and an unlabeled ziplock bag of a white powdery substance. In my truck bed is a long metal wand that I can hook to my truck battery to volatilize my white powdery substance. I reek of smoke. If stopped by a state trooper today, I would soon be sitting behind bars until the lab results came back showing oxalic acid.

Read full article here: Self Incrimination — BEEKeeping: Your First Three Years

Bees Conversing…And More! by 67steffen

Tags

bee humor, bee photos

Light humor from the hive. by 67steffen

Here’s a list of possible conversations that these two bees are having at the entrance to their hive…and only one is correct:

1. “Who’s the guy with the camera?”
2.  “It’s a jungle out there.”
3. “Quitting time.”
4. “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

Read full article at:  Bees Conversing…And More! — 67steffen

Brazil’s Beekeeping Donkey – Great Big Story by msamba

Tags

beekeeping equipment, beekeeping humor, the beekeeping donkey

Manuel Juraci Vieira needed a way to transport the honey he would collect from his beehives on his farm back to his home. His solution? His donkey, Boneco. Outfitted in his very own homemade beekeeping suit, Boneco tags alongside Vieira, helping him carry the honey they gather during their hauls. Working together, the unlikely colleagues and friends are able to harvest more of the sweet stuff than possible with Vieira working alone.

via Brazil’s Beekeeping Donkey – Great Big Story — msamba

Beekeeping will change you for the worse by Honey Bee Suite

Tags

beekeeping, humor

A bit of humor here from Rusty. Well, I think she’s being humorous. Let’s hope so!

Many of my web visitors are soon-to-be beekeepers preparing for their first delivery of honey bees. They have read, attended classes, and talked to other beekeepers. Some write to me with a few last-minute questions. But what they envision and what I foresee are completely different.

I was reminded of this beekeeping reality while watching a beginner video on YouTube. While sappy music played in the background, a lilting voice explained that once you become a beekeeper you will embrace nature for the first time! You will become attuned to weather and blooms! You will blossom as a person!

Wow. I imagine a barefoot flower child romping through a verdant meadow, a ring of daisies in her hair and a bouquet of dandelions clutched in her fist. Beekeeping is your entry into a world of peace and love and grass stains. Kumbaya in a box.

Read the full article here: Beekeeping will change you for the worse — Honey Bee Suite

Beeswax

Tags

beekeeping, beeswax, humor

Finished waxing some frames today. Now I just have to return the crock pot to the kitchen without my wife noticing I borrowed it.

You Know You’re a Beekeeper when…

Tags

beekeeping, humor

You know you’re a beekeeper when… By John Caldeira, with contributions from many others.

The windshield of your vehicle has at least two yellow dots on it.

You have answers ready for questions about Africanized bees and the value of local honey in preventing allergies.

You eagerly await the phone call from the post office asking you to please come pick up your bees.

You check out all the honey labels and prices at the supermarket.

You’ve gone through the supermarket checkout line buying nothing more than a big load of sugar, and maybe some Crisco.

You’ve estimated just how much money you spent to control mites.

You pick up matches at restaurants, even though you don’t smoke.

Your friends and neighbors think you are the answer to every swarm and bees-in-the-wall problem.

You are keenly aware of the first and last freezes of each winter.

There is propolis on the steering wheel of your vehicle and the bottom of your boots.

There is a bucket of something in your garage that can only be good for smoker fuel.

You are called “the Bee Man,” or “the Bee Lady” by a lot of people who don’t know your name.

You know the bloom period of more local flowers than the state horticulturist.

You welcome a rainy weekend if it will stimulate nectar production.

You don’t mind driving home with a few honey bees inside your vehicle.

Your family and friends know exactly what they’re going to get for Christmas.

You don’t mow the lawn because the bees are working the weeds.

You drive down a road and find yourself evaluating the roadside flowers for their honey-producing potential.

You pull over and check the bees on the wildflowers just to see if they are YOUR bees, AND — you can tell the difference.

You come home smelling like a camp fire, and you haven’t been camping.

You saw Ulee’s Gold and didn’t think there were enough shots of the bees.

You overhear your 9 year old daughter explaining to her friends how to tie a trucker’s hitch.

The school principal calls to ask that you never again let your child take a drone tied with a thread to school for show and tell.

You never stop marveling at these wonderful creatures.

Excerpts from the above list were published in American Bee Journal (December, 1998), which prompted the following responses from readers:

You know you’re married to a beekeeper when…

You spend at least one day a week on your hands and knees with a sharp knife scraping wax and propolis off your kitchen floor.

You’ve ever used bee boxes as furniture in your house, for coffee tables, chairs, night stands, and storage boxes.

You mow around mountains of bee equipment that never seems to make it to the barn.

You plan weddings, child birth, surgery and funerals around honey extracting time.

When buying a new truck, your spouse checks weight loads and measures the bed to see how many hives he can fit in it.

You get stung by the bee that was clinging to your husband’s bee suit when you picked it up to wash it.

and from our local discussion group:

You know you’re a beekeeper when the seat of your car or truck has a hole where the hive tool punched through.

If the smell of bananas at your local farm stand sends you into a momentary panic…

You might be a beekeeper if, while cleaning out the garage, you get excited when you find a couple misplaced SHB traps.

You might be a beekeeper if you visit the SC Surplus Salesroom and the only things that interest you are table saws (for cutting boxes), kettles (for melting wax), deep freezers (for freezing frames), and hot water heaters (for that distant honey house).

You watch Ulee’s Gold just to see the shots of the honey bees.

You might be a beekeeper if you go into a manic state of excitement when your spouse reminds you that you left a 50# bag of cane sugar in her car trunk 2 months ago and she’d like it removed.

You look through beekeeping catalogs for beekeeping equipment you think you can make.

When you have more pictures of your bees than of your kids — and justify it by claiming bees only live six weeks, there are different bees in each picture.

When, after being asked how the bees stay warm overwinter for the eighth time, you’ve joked about knitting them sweaters — and someone believed you.

When you finally said, ‘no, they don’t sting me’ because it was faster to say that than spend the time explaining things to non-beekeepers.

The inside of your clothes dryer has propolis spots.

You have to buy a new freezer for your food because the other is full of frames.

When you buy a second dishwasher to put in the garage to clean plastic frames prior to re-waxing because it’s easier than the pressure washer.

Someone gets in the car with you and ask if you had been smoking!

You might be a beekeeper if you consider using Swarm Commander as an aftershave.

You might be a beekeeper if you use a tractor front loader and deer stands to retrieve swarms.

Cinnamon, Honey and Hot Chocolate Recipe by Honey Hunter

Tags

beekeeping, chocolate, cinnamon, honey, honey recipe, recipe

Every struggled to fall asleep at night? Yep, us too. Here is a soothing cinnamon honey and hot chocolate recipe to relax your body and mind before getting under the covers. 1 tsp cocoa powder ½ tsp cinnamon powder A cup of milk (soy, almond or oat alternatives work just as well) 1 tbsp raw…

Read full recipe here: Cinnamon, Honey and Hot Chocolate Recipe — Honey Hunter

Incredibly stupid things a beekeeper can do by Rusty at Honey Bee Suite

Tags

beekeeping, humor, management

The worst beekeeping mistakes come from putting off what you should have done yesterday. Somehow, problems inside a bee hive don’t get better by themselves. I keep thinking they will, but they don’t…. [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more. ]]

We all have days like this. Read more here: Incredibly stupid things a beekeeper can do — Honey Bee Suite

Beekeeper Knife

Tags

humor

I lost my favorite pocket knife, a Buck stainless folder, a few days ago. It’s like losing a friend. Good thing I have old friends like this Buck 110 folder to help me through my grief.