Last Monday I set aside the time to remove the bees from Duff Green. Quick in, quick out, two hives of bees to relocate.
The result was awful. An unmitigated failure.
The space is not enough to get the hydraulic lift in, said Harley. But, she said, we have some really long ladders - 60' or so.
OK.
About forty five minutes later, the 42' ladders showed up, and we maneuvered them into place. Even fully extended, we were going to be short. I climbed the ladder, and about halfway up, felt that l'appel du vide - that horrible feeling that you are being drawn to the edge of something at a great height and feel that you are going to fling yourself off the edge.
On a ladder, for crying out loud.
Once I got to the top of the extended part of the ladder, it was obvious. There was just no way. We looked at it from about five different angles, and even a couple of angels. From the extension ladder, I would have to stand on top of the last rung.
Um.... nope.
The solution, without the lift, is to have to anchor a 12' step ladder to the wall on top of the narrow balcony. Sturdy enough, but if I felt the fear of falling from the extension ladder, it was about to get a LOT worse if I tried it from the balcony.
So what do I do?
My next door neighbor is Jared. He is my insurance agent (Kathe, sensibly, trusts his assessment of risk more than she trusts mine) and his willingness to try anything has made him an invaluable companion on the trips to evaluate bees. Even if he is decidedly NOT excited about bees.
We scoped out the second location - on the left side of the picture above (MORE BEES!) It was decidedly more accessible. From the roof, we dropped down onto the metal roof over the balcony. From this vantage point, we got a better look at what was going on.
As Kathe and I had figured earlier, the bees moved into the cornice/eave bracket/sconce. But what I had seen the previous time....well, the removal of the faceplace of the cornice was going to be an easy job.
Heh.
The cornice is made of cast iron. The faceplate is not hinged. And it might be a single cast piece. Glued, anchored in place, and immutable as bedrock. Not budging.
Jared and I tried a number of ways. We removed the two bolts. We pried. We hammered a putty knife into the joint. We pried at the wood molding above, and looked for an hour for any way to get in. Nothing.
OK, time to change tack.
We smoked the bees and then tried to vacuum them through the hole. They were having none of that. That was my mistake - the smoke made them retreat deeper into the cornice, and we netted a total of one sad bee.
So even if I had gotten the lift, all I would have been able to do is to remove the external bees. The bees inside would have stayed inside.
After we finally gave up for the day (and the week - it was raining a LOT this week), I started trying to research the architectural features. There are multiple cornices on the house without bees in them, so I could test out any removal technique on one that was not hanging over the edge. The consensus - from builders to architectural historians to economists (I don't know why the economist should have an opinion, but I really couldn't stop him from giving one) - is that there is just a lot of paint and glue - and the bolts - holding it in place.
I'm going to try again. But as the weather gets warmer, the bees will be more active. And more prone to defend their space against intruders like me.
If anyone has ideas, I am open.
Wish me luck.
The result was awful. An unmitigated failure.
The space is not enough to get the hydraulic lift in, said Harley. But, she said, we have some really long ladders - 60' or so.
OK.
About forty five minutes later, the 42' ladders showed up, and we maneuvered them into place. Even fully extended, we were going to be short. I climbed the ladder, and about halfway up, felt that l'appel du vide - that horrible feeling that you are being drawn to the edge of something at a great height and feel that you are going to fling yourself off the edge.On a ladder, for crying out loud.
Once I got to the top of the extended part of the ladder, it was obvious. There was just no way. We looked at it from about five different angles, and even a couple of angels. From the extension ladder, I would have to stand on top of the last rung.
Um.... nope.
The solution, without the lift, is to have to anchor a 12' step ladder to the wall on top of the narrow balcony. Sturdy enough, but if I felt the fear of falling from the extension ladder, it was about to get a LOT worse if I tried it from the balcony.
So what do I do?
My next door neighbor is Jared. He is my insurance agent (Kathe, sensibly, trusts his assessment of risk more than she trusts mine) and his willingness to try anything has made him an invaluable companion on the trips to evaluate bees. Even if he is decidedly NOT excited about bees.
We scoped out the second location - on the left side of the picture above (MORE BEES!) It was decidedly more accessible. From the roof, we dropped down onto the metal roof over the balcony. From this vantage point, we got a better look at what was going on.
 |
| The cornice is right at the edge of the same drop. Don't look down |
Heh.
The cornice is made of cast iron. The faceplate is not hinged. And it might be a single cast piece. Glued, anchored in place, and immutable as bedrock. Not budging.
Jared and I tried a number of ways. We removed the two bolts. We pried. We hammered a putty knife into the joint. We pried at the wood molding above, and looked for an hour for any way to get in. Nothing.
OK, time to change tack.
We smoked the bees and then tried to vacuum them through the hole. They were having none of that. That was my mistake - the smoke made them retreat deeper into the cornice, and we netted a total of one sad bee.
So even if I had gotten the lift, all I would have been able to do is to remove the external bees. The bees inside would have stayed inside.
After we finally gave up for the day (and the week - it was raining a LOT this week), I started trying to research the architectural features. There are multiple cornices on the house without bees in them, so I could test out any removal technique on one that was not hanging over the edge. The consensus - from builders to architectural historians to economists (I don't know why the economist should have an opinion, but I really couldn't stop him from giving one) - is that there is just a lot of paint and glue - and the bolts - holding it in place.
I'm going to try again. But as the weather gets warmer, the bees will be more active. And more prone to defend their space against intruders like me.
If anyone has ideas, I am open.
Wish me luck.
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