Bees move

Last night the hive was loaded up and moved to a friend's orchard. The land I will be moving to in two months is a wooded lot, and would not be the optimal location for the girls. As it turned out, my friend had just lost her hive to a bear when she forgot to turn on her electric fence. So, the hive is moved and I now have a bee keeping partner to share in the work.

moving the hive 

Tempers Flare

The girls were an angry colony today as I stumbled around their home. A few weeks late on early Spring upkeep, I opened up the hive today to inspect what winter had left me. The hive seemed to have no problems over-wintering, the numbers were high, the hives were heavy with honey, and the girls were busy. I don't know how to gracefully snap open the boxes and frames, glued tightly together with propolis, sealed against the draft of winter winds. Every seal I broke with my hive tool made a loud snap which was followed by an even louder buzz of angry and invaded bees, and then a big cloud of bees around my head. There was just no way to be subtle. I felt big, clumsy and nervous, which made me fumble even more.
I was instructed by other bee keepers to check for brood in the bottom hive body, and if I found it empty, to switch the hive bodies and put the empty hive body on top. When I finally got the bodies separated, a feat in itself, the bees were nasty, mean and sick of my human company. The bottom body was full of bees, and they were irritable about the sudden exposure as I pulled the top body off. I was literally chased out of the bee yard.
The girls were too irritable today, and I couldn't do any hive cleaning or inspecting. Instead I had to return the top body on, and could do no better than placing it directly on the mad bees who covered the top of the bottom box, crushing many who crawled around the top rim. I felt nothing but frustrated and irritable myself as I quickly left the hive, bees smashing themselves against my bee suit.
Today was not a relaxing time at the hive, nor a time to feel one with nature. Today I was a big invader, clearly unwelcome, and obviously the enemy.
Dare I go back? On my way inside I even considered giving the girls a new home. When our mutual tempers relax, I will go back to try again.

Sweet spring air

The electric fence around the hive has no zap. After the setup, and time for the solar unit to get recharged, there is that reluctant moment when you need to try it out. Reach out the long dry grass, or the hand in my case, eyes closed, waiting for the shock. Nothing. Touch again, nothing. No time to fix it and not wanting to invest the money, perhaps it is up now as a psychological bear barrier.
The girls are busy. I have been feeding them sugar water in a ratio of 1:1 to encourage brood production. In a week or so I will open up the hive and see what has become of things.
First pollen sources: skunk cabbage, pussy willow, crocuses and tulips. Then dandelions, pear, cherry, and fuchsia. We have gotten to tulips here, but are still awaiting the dandelions.

Skunk Cabbage

March 13, seven days until the Spring equinox, and already warm days allow for the girls to venture out in search of early pollen. They did not touch the sugar I left for them, and seem to still have enough honey. Yesterday a co-worker told me stories of her less fortunate bees who had honey in the hive box, but starved looking in the wrong cells for it, and other bives that ran out all together.
Warm days last week allowed the bees to leave the hive in search of pollen. Perhaps finding skunk cabbage somewhere, New England's first Spring growth. Bear cubs come out of hibernation mid-April, so I need to keep my mind on putting up another electric fence.

Nearing Spring

Spring nears, and the bees are still alive. Today felt warm, though it is all relative these days in Western Massachusetts with our latest cold air. I went to bring some more sugar to the girls, but upon lifting the lid I noticed they hadn't touched the sugar I left weeks ago. Still hanging on, a month or so to go before maybe some warmer air can allow them to fly free again. I can only imagine how ancy they feel, given my readiness for springtime that comes each March. It must be worse living with 1000s in a small box.

Bees still alive

A forty degree day today sent me down to the hive to knock on the side for a listen. But when I leaned down to hear if there was life in the box, I was eye to eye with a girl flying around outside who came near me to inquire why I was about to knock. It was a lovely sight, a sign of spring upcoming and hopefully a strong colony. Two weeks ago, another warm day, I opened the top and put a half cup of sugar on the top of the inner cover. A mid-winter snack in case they were running low. If the weather is warm enough to do that again this weekend, I will give more sugar to the girls. I have been told that it is not the cold that kills the bees, but the lack of enough food storage. It has been a warm winter, and while their hive was heavy in December, there is no tellng how long their stores will last them.

winter's approach

Our first twenty degree night, and the possibility of snow. Only a dusting, but it is a reminder that I have neglected the impending season due to unusually high temperatures and golden sunlight. Today, while waiting to get my snow tires put on, a woman drove past me with a car covered with the crust of a first snow. An odd sight next to the dry and sunlit parking lot. She lived up north, she told me, but only an hour. Winter is making its slow approach, and while I have put in the entrance reducer to cut down on the draft, I have not yet insulated the hive or packed up the electric fence. Sunday morning, weather providing, I will tuck my bees in for the winter then. A friend suggests filling the honey super with balled up newspaper, which can provide a bit more insulation and absorb any moisture. I will try this method and see if the girls can survive a New England winter.