Today was the big bee day. We arrived at the cottage last night. Peter Mewett was expecting us to pick up the bees in Stirling at 10:00 a.m this morning. So I woke up early and got to work. Step One was to unpack the car. I organized everything and put it all away. I moved the one hive to its new spot beside my enclosed garden. The second hive didn't have a predestined spot yet, so it remained by the car. All of the other equipment went to the porch of Deep Shade (the workshop). Everything else went into Thistledown (Brian's and my cottage). Step Two was to set up the first hive. I laid down a patio stone, added a couple of concrete blocks (I tried other combinations that included wood, but it just wasn't attractive or stable) and then set up the hive. Standing back, I admired her wooden splendor. She looked so pretty beside the garden.
Step Three was to build the frames for the hives. Last night, I'd watched a video by The Fat Beekeeper on how to put the wooden frames together and how to wire in the wax foundations. Alas, looking in the box of supplies, there were tools and equipment that The Fat Beekeeper didn't use. No problem, I can work with what I know. But the nail gun kept getting jammed. And then I accidentally smashed the first frame when I tried to nail the wire down. The roll of wire kept unspooling and tying itself in knots. Hello skyrocketing anxiety. I was already failing my bees. At this rate, they wouldn't have the warm welcome I wanted to give them. Deep Breath. Come up with a B plan (pun intended). By now, mom and dad were awake and curious. I showed them what I'd been up to. They both thought the hives were as beautiful as I do! Together we decided on the location of the second hive - we'd put it up behind Top House. Protected from the wind, with easy access to farmland, this location made a good contrast to the location of the other hive. Time was ticking on, and so I woke Brian, moved the second hive into place, and got the keys to the truck.
It turns out Stirling was further than I remembered, so we didn't arrive until 10:20. Peter was ready for us. The two nucs were waiting in the utility shed. He presented us with two cardboard boxes with these sweet little stitched in screens. Through the screens you could see the bees.
Brian stared. Fascinated. I tried to remember all of the questions I'd wanted to ask Peter. Should I feed them when I get them into place? Did they have mites? Were the queens marked? How could I contact the local beekeeping club? Brian continued to stare. We loaded the two boxes into the back of the truck. I filled out Peter's paperwork. Brian stared. We discovered the truth in the statement 'bees don't like carbon dioxide' - when you breathed out into the screen, the bees got agitated. We pondered whether to strap the boxes in, but decided against it. We didn't have far to go, and there wasn't much likelihood of the boxes moving anywhere. On the drive back to the cottage, Brian fantasized about how boxes of bees and road rage might make interesting combinations. I made adjustments to my B plan.
Back at the cottage, Brian and I set the two nuc boxes in place - on the hive with the hive lid on top to keep out the little flecks of rain that kept threatening - and opened the flaps to let the bees be able to come and go as they pleased.
Then I made sandwiches. Food was needed to settle the adrenaline. Together, Brian and I finished building, waxing, and wiring the frames. It went much more smoothly with two. We learned how to use almost all of the equipment - there's still a spur tool that mystifies me, but otherwise it all makes sense. Frames built, it was time to don the bee suit and move the nucs into their new homes.
We call mom and dad, check the camera, light the smoker, and head off to the Garden Beehive.
We ready ourselves. Puff, puff, smoke billows into the bee box screen.
Looking around at my family, I take a deep breath, undo the tape, and lift the lid. It's a little anticlimactic. A couple of bees fly into the air, but not much else happens. Brian leans in to get some photos. I get out my hive tool and begin to lift the frames out of the box.
Click, click, Brian captures it all on film. Mom and dad stand just far enough away to feel safe, but close enough to see. I can feel the sweat prickling my back beneath all my protective clothing. Wow. The frame is alive with bees.
Only a handful fly about; the rest continue with their business, walking about on the comb, doing what bees do. We look at both sides. Brian is talking and pointing out what parts are brood, and what parts are honey. His bare hands wave over the bees. I put the first frame into the hive. I add a couple of the newly made frames. I lift out the second frame. Click, click. Mom and dad move a little closer. Brian continues to point out stuff and take photos. The sweat begins to trickle. Out comes the third frame, and we see the queen!
She's marked with a little dab of white paint on her back. She moves quickly and purposefully across the comb. We all lean in a little closer. Click, click. Into her new home she goes.
I lift the last frame out of the box and into the hive, add the remainder of the new frames, and space them out evenly in the hive. There are only a handful of bees left in the box, so we leave them be, and close up the hive. One down, and one to go.
We call Jake. This is too good to miss. I wipe the sweat off my back and adjust my equipment. We troop up the hill to the Top House Beehive. Installing the second nuc goes quickly. Jake is as fascinated as the rest of us. It looks like a stronger nuc - more bees.
We look for the queen but we never do find her. Either she wasn't marked, or we simply couldn't see her under all the other bees. The box tips over with the last frame still in it. Brian quickly rights it. And I pop the last frame in. Either the spill knocked some bees off the frame, or there are simply more bees, because there are still hundreds of bees in the box. I gently bang the box down and to the side and then pour the bees into the hive, as I've seen done in several videos. I grin. It all seems easier than it should. I close up the hive. We all stand and watch for a couple of minutes, curious to see if the bees that are flying around will know where to go, or if the bees inside the hive will know how to get out. Quickly enough we witness bees exchanging places. Grinning at one another, we chat excitedly as we walk down the hill. We've done it! We've become beekeepers!!
