Bee-coming a Beekeeper

I am proud to announce that I am a beekeeper. I built my first hive on May 3, after having a tornado of bees take up residency in our woodpile that Andrew brought home from Portland. There is something fascinating about having Honey Bees take up residency on your property. When we first saw them, the children had been sent outside to do some school work (beautiful day, they weren't doing anything in the house, why not?). Savannah shortly thereafter came running down the hill to tell me that we had something swirling in the air, and it must be a "hibernating thing". Not a hibernating thing. A SWARMING, Triangulating thing. Basically, the bees were lost and trying to find themselves.

So, they decided to make their home in the woodpile. Not so o.k. with Andrew. Or me, for that matter. Needless to say, I did some quick research and found a beekeeper who was willing to sell me materials for a bee box, found a friend with a bee suit I could borrow so that I could move my bees without getting stung, and VOILA! I am now, keeper of the bees.

Bees are fascinating. They clean their frames out meticulously. And they are surprisingly gentle. LeGrand was amazed that he could "pet a bee" without getting stung, and has sat with me for many long minutes watching as the bees push old dirt and old hive from other bees out of their new home. Not only is it rewarding to know that we will have our own honey, it's surprisingly calming to watch the bees doing their work.

the box with all 10 frames inside

the box, waiting for bees

getting ready to move the bees

SUCCESS! Bees are moved! NO stings...

carefully petting a bee - under mom's shadow...

cleaning house. The pile of dirt in the lower right hand corner is what they have taken out. They're very efficient.

I would like to say that I haven't been stung, but that wouldn't be true. I was stung last Friday when I couldn't leave them be. (every pun intended). I was checking on their progress, and Andrew needed me to see something. In my haste to put the lid back on the bees, I angered two of them and one stung me on the knee - the other on the side of my hand. The knee hurt. The hand, not so much. And two of my bees died. I probably squished a lot more after the two stung me, too - trying to get the lid down without being stung more. Bees can, after all, smell fear... and after being stung, I was afraid. Very afraid. For now, I am leaving them be. And watching from a safe distance as they clean and bring in pollen and do their work. In the fall, we plunder and eat honey. But they don't need to know that...yet.