(Please note that the images in this post are just reminders of what is to come and not necessarily what may be here today. Although if time is flat, and therefore there is no past or present, then these images can be applied to today… if today even exists at all. Thank you.)

Last weekend we had arranged to pick up our newest members of The Accidental Farm: the hive of Italian honeybees. There had been much debate as to whether or not the colony had survived the winter. The owners had seen bees coming and going in the warm weather, but the fact that they were not using the main entrance to the hive was suspicious. So… were we picking up a hive of live bees or not?

With no way to know until we arrived, Brian and I took the kids to Greenwich, NY, which is about 45 minutes from here, to the home of the Betterbee company. This is the only bee equipment distributor in our area and the same location where we will pick up our packaged bees on May 9th.

What a really nice way to spend a Saturday! Come to find out they had a discount barn (Yee-freakin-ha!) and we were able to acquire our protective clothing at a lovely discounted price. I was gaa gaa over all of the bargains and slightly overwhelmed since I’m still not sure what all the equipment is for. In the end we purchased 2 helmets and veils, 1 jacket (for me), 1 full suit (for Brian), 1 new brooder box, a couple of frames that need some glue and some antibiotics in case I did indeed subject the hive to foulbrood.

I also met a lovely woman with 2 kids who is also raising chickens, growing her own food and starting bees! You’d think there would be a union for us all, however she’s the first I’ve met in a while so we swore we’d keep in touch. It was a lot like camp for 13 year old girls… I’m guessing. I’ve actually never been to camp.

Then we stopped at a sah-weet home and garden store we found along the way that was like farm store meets Anthropologie… sort of. Pretty much the same kind of store I’d have if I had a store. But with more money. Brian and I were drooling, however we escaped with most of our cash seeing as I spent most of my time trying to keep the 2 year old from licking the French soap. Sigh.

Gleeful at the prospect of new bees, new friends and new soap, we returned home on a high. It stopped at about the same time we hit the driveway.

I carted our loot into the house, while Brian began filling in the mud ruts in the driveway, cursing all the while. Once I got it all in, I began to inspect my jacket and quickly figured out why it was in the discount bin. I am the proud owner of a jacket and bee veil that has the zipper sewed on inside out and backwards! So, I either wear the jacket backwards, in a sort of straightjacket manner, OR I wear the bee veil backwards, which leaves the metal mesh you see through at the back of my head. I’m thinking that the bees will be laughing so damned hard when they see me coming that I won’t need to be all that protected.

Then, I started to consider the fact that I only bought a jacket. At the time, I felt that I could wear some sturdy pants and just rubberband the ankles. Have you ever stopped to consider which pants in your wardrobe would protect you from the stingers of hundreds of bees? Simply terrifying, isn’t it?

It had been decided that since we couldn’t find a babysitter, and possibly stuffing 2 little kids into the cab of a pickup truck to pick up live bees might just raise an eyebrow or two, I was going to go pick up the bees solo. I was pretty excited about it all, despite the fact that my bee book insisted a trained expert perform the move. I was ready… that is until I got a 102 degree fever. I could barely pick my head up off of the pillow, let alone a hive of bees 45 minutes away. But since the owners were moving from the country, this was our last shot to get them. Brian had to go.

He left early, something like 7 am. In between my shivers I whispered to him everything I could think of that he might need: the smoker, the hive tools, duct tape to keep the hive together, rubber bands for his clothes, take Tylenol now BEFORE you get stung… that sort of stuff. Then I prayed that I didn’t hear about some poor man overtaken on the Northway by a swarm of pissed off bees.

Brian called me 10 minutes into the ride back. They had died. He was transporting boxes of wood.

Now, I am tasked with finding a mentor in my club to assist me in getting the hive inspected and prepared for the next tenants. But before I do that, I want to thank these bees for all of the gifts that they have given, in particular the sacrifice that they have offered. We enjoy their honey and the incoming bees will benefit from their building efforts. It just doesn’t seem right to sweep them away and move on without acknowledging them and giving thanks.

IN OTHER NEWS
As mentioned before we have been boiling syrup… that is until we all got sick with colds. So far we have canned about 1 1/2 gallons of syrup. Not a heck of a lot to be sure. I have more demand than supply, a good problem to have. We even created a new product we were calling Triple B (Blessed Boiling Blunder) or Tree Snot (that was Tony’s name). It was caramel heaven; rich, buttery and spreadable like honey. Absolutely sublime. The problem was that it crystalized in the jar after 3 days.

As for the garlic story, all of that garlic that we harvested back in the summer has been hanging in the greenhouse and froze. So, before it all goes bad we are racing to process it (freeze it, eat it, etc.). You’d think that with all of the garlic we’ve been eating we would stay healthy. Well, you’d be wrong.

As for blowing up the barn, turns out that when we tried to finish boiling down the first batch of sap on the propane burner, there was no opening for the heat to escape between the pot and the burner. This caused the flame to run back up the nozzle to the tank. Luckily the emergency switch turned it all off before the flame hit the tank, but not before things got melted and charred. Hey, at least we still have the greenhouse and the barn.

Finally, R.I.P. on 3 of our chickens. Two of The Ladies have gone missing and we suspect became hawk feast. Now that there are fewer trees on the property, the birds are much more of a target. I’m considering stringing prayer flags across the yard, but fear that we might look like a used car lot.

The other chicken that died was Fluff, our beautiful Polish rooster. After he made the poor strategic decision to attack Parker, his life came up for review. As I was cleaning up Parker’s wounds (nothing terrible), Brian came in to help her deal with her fear of the rooster. It went something like this…
Brian: Don’t you worry Honey, Daddy is going to take Fluff away and he won’t hurt you anymore.
Parker: Where are you taking him?
Brian: We’re sending him to a chicken farm where he can live with other chickens and there are no kids for him to hurt.
Parker: Really? Because me and Mom were just talking about how you’re going to kill him.
Brian: Oh…right. Yes, we’re going to kill him.

We thanked Fluff for his life and he will become bait for the next generation of poultry defense (coyote trap).

I had heard that at Parker’s pre-school class morning meeting where they share all the news from home, she shared about the deaths of the coyote in February and the death of Fluff. I keep waiting for the Department of Social Services to show up and ask to see all of our weapons.

‘Til next time…

Tags: Bees, Farming