Where to begin? Somewhere within the last month the starter gun was shot and we haven’t stopped moving since. The events on the farm just keep piling up. Let’s start with my bees…

Knowing that my ordered package of 12,000 new daughters was arriving on May 22nd, I dragged out my purchased used equipment on the 20th (procrastinaaaaation!) to see what I could see. I saw this…

What you are looking at is the top lid of the hive. It is covered with tiny ants. F! Back in March we discovered a leak in the oil tank in the garage. When we stored the equipment there in April, it occurred to us that the fumes from the spill might contaminate the hive. So it was moved outside and placed on a pallet, under a tarp. It never occurred to me that something else might move in.

I just stood there with this overwhelming feeling of knowing just how much I didn’t know. How do I remove an ant infestation? Clearly I can’t grab a can of Raid… wait a minute…

Chicken buffet! I tossed the ant populated sections in with the chickens and within minutes it was clean! Luckily the infestation wasn’t concentrated in the main body of the hive where the chickens could destroy the comb.

My main concern was whether or not the used equipment was contaminated with some disease, left by the last colony, that would jeopardize the incoming new bees. After joining several online message boards and reading many posts (what exactly did we do before the Internet?), I realized that I needed a live person to examine the hive.

Roberta is my assigned mentor from my bee club, The Catskill Beekeepers Club (http://www.catskillbees.org). She has been Beekeeper of the Year for the region (more than once, I think), represents beekeepers in the state government, and has been raising bees her entire life. I feel so truly blessed to have met her and even more so that she is my mentor.

Roberta came by on the morning I was getting the bees and together we inspected the hive. I learned how to look for American Foul Brood (AFB), a bacteria that once found in the hive, the state mandates that all equipment is burned to the ground. I had decided that if, in fact, the colony had perished because of AFB, then I would burn the equipment and give away my incoming bees. It was a sign that I shouldn’t keep bees … this year anyway.

Armed with a toothpick, Roberta pulled out frame after frame from the hive and picked apart the cells looking for dead bee larvae. We were covered in honey and dead bees; parts stuck to my fingers, bodies crunching under my feet. For some reason, it somehow never occurred to me that I would have to deal with dead bugs, let alone pull out bodies and examine them. I was squeamish for about 30 seconds and then it passed.

She taught me why the wax is different in color (light wax=honey comb, colored wax=brood comb) and that I should save everything.

This is propolis aka. bee glue. The bees collect pine tree sap and use it to glue things together in the hive. It has antiseptic properties and can be used to start fires. It needs to be removed from the hive before it builds up too much and makes taking apart the hive too difficult.

Turns out that the colony didn’t die from AFB, to the best of Roberta’s guess. She thinks that the colony lost their queen and then perished from the cold. However, she also pointed out that without a lab test, it isn’t possible to know whether or not they died from some sickness or perhaps from mites. But none of these things would affect the incoming colony. It was time to get some bees!

I did what any expectant mother would do. After cleaning up the hive and not really knowing what to do further with myself, I scrubbed my kitchen floor. Then, I took my father and drove to Greenwich to pick up my 3 lb. package of bees.

This is the box that they come in. You just walk up to the counter, they make you sign a piece of paper that says something like, “Yes, I do realize that I am about to drive away with a live box of angry bees…” and that is that. Technically we brought home 12,004 bees. Seems that there were some extras OUTSIDE of the box that decided to join in on the adventure. I was fine with it since they were sticking to the box, most likely because they could smell the queen inside and just wanted in. However we watched a guy with 2 boxes in the parking lot sweeping the extra bees off of his box, so we decided to as well. Bad idea. We were just aggravating the extra bees and they were now flying into the car, pissed off. Best to let well enough alone and just get in the car. And drive the 45 minutes home. With 4 loose, pissed off bees in the car. Excellent.

You think you drive carefully, then you put a live box of 12,004 bees in your car. I think it took me 15 minutes just to pull out of the parking lot onto the main roadway.

We took the bees to my parent’s house, which is where the main gardens are located. I had decided to put the bees there since:
1. They need early morning sunlight and there are no real decent places at my house for this.
2. The main gardens would do well to have extra pollinators.
3. My children cannot be trusted. See Dangermouse in the photo above.

I quickly suited up while Brian set up the hive. We painted sugar water onto the cage of bees to calm them down and then it was time to move them to the hive.

Mom, Dad, Brian… everyone seemed jumpy to me, but me. I grounded myself and while everyone was at the equipment I just stood with the bees in the box. I put a hand about 1 inch away from each end of the box. I could literally feel the energy of the bees. It felt like holding sparkling water between my hands. So very cool.

Mom read the instructions on how to install the package of bees (while standing a good distance away) while I fumbled through the motions and Brian and Dad watched (while standing a good distance away). This is me shaking the bees into the hive…

The things I read said that they fall like oil from a can and you shake them like trying to get a pick out of a guitar. I don’t remember that part. I remember thinking, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” which is what Dakota Fanning’s character says in The Secret Life Of Bees when she first comes into contact with them.

After putting in the bees, I replaced a couple of missing frames and then set in the queen. Please note my airtight bee suit. Particularly where the jacket is riding up in the back and pulling my shirt with it so that my back is exposed and leaving a lovely access point into my pants. Perhaps I should have ‘The Accidental Farm’ tattooed right there.

After putting in the queen cage, replacing the inner and outer upper cover and leaning the remaining bees in the cage up against the hive, my job was done. I just stood there. I didn’t want to leave. Standing there, amidst a fog of bees, I felt peace and exhilaration. Each time I go snorkeling I feel this same way. I am witness to a wild community of life, one that I am not a part of, but which continues to commune around me. I feel connected in a way that brings me incredible joy and respect for life on this planet. I want to share it with everyone, but in a minute because for now this moment is just mine. I silently welcome the bees to their new home and pray that they find what they need. I am grateful and again, so truly, truly blessed.

Tags: Bees, Farming, Honey

(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