You know that feeling? The one when you are bringing your first puppy home for the first time? The anticipation is over, and it is pure joy; pure glee, pure love.
And, of course, just a tinge of worry. Will there be enough flowers near the house to feed them? Will the mosquito spraying in the neighborhood kill them? Will I be able to control the mites? Are they in too much sun? Too much shade? Will raccoons mess with them? Should I have bought different equipment?
Yes. I now have a hive of bees. (Apparently in the beekeeping community, this makes me a bee-haver. Bee-keeping requires a lot of work.) And all day long, I just could not stop grinning. The process that started in 2002 has resulted in there being a box of bees in my backyard.
Earlier this week, Kathe and I had convoyed down to Wiggins for her to spend the week with her mom, and I unexpectedly slapped on the brakes in the middle of the highway, upsetting the doxies in the backseat and drivers on both sides of Highway 49 in the process. In front of an unassuming blue shed were a half dozen bee boxes, and a sign, proclaiming that the business was open... to sell bee equipment.
The Bee Gold Honey folks talked me through the process, and gave me good information on what to do to set up my boxes. An hour later, Larry and Sara Williams loaded my truck up with all of the equipment I needed to get started.
I spent the rest of the week painting boxes and putting boxes together, and getting the house ready. Following the lead of Scott Johnson, I used my limited artistic skills to draw a Maya image on my box, just for fun. (If you haven't ready anything by Scott, check out his Low Tech Institute, or buy his book on Maya hieroglyphs here.
Ty Freeman, owner of Mississippi Bee Haven, had already set aside a nuc for me, so when I went back to convoy with Kathe on the return trip, we made a stop in Richton, eventually landing in the home of Ty's lovely aunt (thanks, Google Maps. Close, but no cigar.)
When we got there (Kathe observing from a safe distance, in the car), Ty and I went out and started opening his boxes and checking for a healthy nuc for me to take.
He robed up, and worked the bees without smoke. My suit is safely locked in the back of my truck, and I have come up empty looking for a key, so I buttoned up the shirt, tucked the pant cuffs into the socks, put on my sunglasses and got to work.
"I just opened this box yesterday, so the girls may be a little more aggressive than usual," Ty explained. He pointed out the honey stores, the capped brood, and finally, the queen, while several worker bees tried to chase me away by burrowing into my hair and buzzing furiously..
A few minutes later, Ty has the five frames transferred into the pasteboard box, covered over the entrance hole with duct tape and widened the air holes just a little. To make sure that nothing happens, he also secures the top of the box with two pieces of duct tape. I pay him, shake hands, and am on my way.
The next two and a half hours were agonizing, driving back through light traffic, worrying about my 10,000 'puppies' in the box in the back of the truck. Are they too hot? Is there enough air? Did I take that turn too fast?
Worrying.
I arrive home, with the full 20 pounds of girls and honey and brood and pollen safely locked away in their temporary cardboard home. I get the rest of the stuff put away from the trip, and take my time, letting them get used to not bumping.
All I have to do is to move the box over to the new home, and remove the duct tape from the hole. And leave the girls alone for a couple of days to get used to the spot.
I lit a cigarette, give them a little puff of smoke to relax them a little, and picked up the box from the bed of the truck....
...forgetting for a moment that the lid of the box is secured only with two pieces of duct tape. Both pieces of duct tape immediately fail to hold, and I am now facing some 43 billion angry and confused bees. (I know, I know. It is supposedly 10k to 20k bees, but when you drop the box, the count very rapidly morphs.)
I might have set a world record for how fast one person smokes two cigarettes. From the unexpected gasp at the moment of impact, to a series of furious plumes to try and placate the angry mob, I was huffing and puffing in a desperate attempt to get everyone calmed.
About ten minutes later, all the pretty ladies were settled down enough to put the top back on the box, to pick it up (from the base...) and carry it back to the prepared location. A few small clusters of bees remained behind, but everyone else seems to get back to work fixing up the house.
It is now ten hours later, and I am still worried. Did I harm the queen? Did I do something irreparable to the frames? Will they thrive?
The girls seem to be settling into their new home. I will transfer them later today (maybe tomorrow) into the permanent home, and start worrying about other stuff. But for the moment, my girls are busy, and seem content.
And I am, too.
Sting Count: 0
And, of course, just a tinge of worry. Will there be enough flowers near the house to feed them? Will the mosquito spraying in the neighborhood kill them? Will I be able to control the mites? Are they in too much sun? Too much shade? Will raccoons mess with them? Should I have bought different equipment?
Yes. I now have a hive of bees. (Apparently in the beekeeping community, this makes me a bee-haver. Bee-keeping requires a lot of work.) And all day long, I just could not stop grinning. The process that started in 2002 has resulted in there being a box of bees in my backyard.
Earlier this week, Kathe and I had convoyed down to Wiggins for her to spend the week with her mom, and I unexpectedly slapped on the brakes in the middle of the highway, upsetting the doxies in the backseat and drivers on both sides of Highway 49 in the process. In front of an unassuming blue shed were a half dozen bee boxes, and a sign, proclaiming that the business was open... to sell bee equipment.
The Bee Gold Honey folks talked me through the process, and gave me good information on what to do to set up my boxes. An hour later, Larry and Sara Williams loaded my truck up with all of the equipment I needed to get started.
 |
| My bee box. (Nobody has nucs for the top bar hive I already had, so I will use it to hold any swarms I manage to capture....) |
I spent the rest of the week painting boxes and putting boxes together, and getting the house ready. Following the lead of Scott Johnson, I used my limited artistic skills to draw a Maya image on my box, just for fun. (If you haven't ready anything by Scott, check out his Low Tech Institute, or buy his book on Maya hieroglyphs here.
Ty Freeman, owner of Mississippi Bee Haven, had already set aside a nuc for me, so when I went back to convoy with Kathe on the return trip, we made a stop in Richton, eventually landing in the home of Ty's lovely aunt (thanks, Google Maps. Close, but no cigar.)
When we got there (Kathe observing from a safe distance, in the car), Ty and I went out and started opening his boxes and checking for a healthy nuc for me to take.
 |
| Ty Freeman dropping the first frame into the box. My box. |
"I just opened this box yesterday, so the girls may be a little more aggressive than usual," Ty explained. He pointed out the honey stores, the capped brood, and finally, the queen, while several worker bees tried to chase me away by burrowing into my hair and buzzing furiously..
A few minutes later, Ty has the five frames transferred into the pasteboard box, covered over the entrance hole with duct tape and widened the air holes just a little. To make sure that nothing happens, he also secures the top of the box with two pieces of duct tape. I pay him, shake hands, and am on my way.
The next two and a half hours were agonizing, driving back through light traffic, worrying about my 10,000 'puppies' in the box in the back of the truck. Are they too hot? Is there enough air? Did I take that turn too fast?
Worrying.
I arrive home, with the full 20 pounds of girls and honey and brood and pollen safely locked away in their temporary cardboard home. I get the rest of the stuff put away from the trip, and take my time, letting them get used to not bumping. All I have to do is to move the box over to the new home, and remove the duct tape from the hole. And leave the girls alone for a couple of days to get used to the spot.
I lit a cigarette, give them a little puff of smoke to relax them a little, and picked up the box from the bed of the truck....
...forgetting for a moment that the lid of the box is secured only with two pieces of duct tape. Both pieces of duct tape immediately fail to hold, and I am now facing some 43 billion angry and confused bees. (I know, I know. It is supposedly 10k to 20k bees, but when you drop the box, the count very rapidly morphs.)
I might have set a world record for how fast one person smokes two cigarettes. From the unexpected gasp at the moment of impact, to a series of furious plumes to try and placate the angry mob, I was huffing and puffing in a desperate attempt to get everyone calmed.
It is now ten hours later, and I am still worried. Did I harm the queen? Did I do something irreparable to the frames? Will they thrive?
The girls seem to be settling into their new home. I will transfer them later today (maybe tomorrow) into the permanent home, and start worrying about other stuff. But for the moment, my girls are busy, and seem content.
And I am, too.
Sting Count: 0
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