February Bees

Sorry for the poor quality of this picture of Clarissa, impulsively taken with a cheap phone. But, oh, the subject!

The temperature on this sunny Thursday is an unseasonably warm 58°F(14°C) so after lunch we very briefly visited our backyard apiary to see if the girls were flying. To our delight we saw a cloud of bees at each hive’s entrance. After a few minutes of gleeful observation we returned to our labors with gladdened hearts.

There is yet time for disaster but for now we rejoice and share the news.

 

Catching Up Before Winter

Once again busier-than-usual life distracted us but this year we managed to neglect only our bee blog but not our bees. We monitored for mites regularly and treated as we saw need.

Dorcas grew quite populous and ever kept her mite count low to nonexistent without our help, although we did treat her once when we first treated Clarissa. Bees can drift between hives and the mites may hitch a ride, perhaps to escape treatment fumes, so it can be good practice to treat all hives in a yard. Or, at least, the hives neighboring an ill one.

Meanwhile, Clarissa likewise grew but consistently lagged behind Dorcas in spite of our once transferring a frame of capped brood from Dorcas to Clarissa in an attempt to even out their populations. On the other hand she always had higher mite counts than Dorcas but never excessively large, just hovering about treatment threshold with the aid of formic acid and thymol. Both hives seemed in good shape last weekend when we winterized each hive thus:

Removed frames that had not yet been drawn out.

Added two frames holding no-cook candy boards for humidity control and emergency rations.

Applied an oxalic drip using Randy Oliver’s medium strength syrup recipe.

Placed our black-plastic-wrapped, insulating panels around the hive.

And with that we settle into the usual winter worrying and waiting.

 

Feeling Even Better Yet

Last Friday our friend provided us a second nuc, which was promptly installed in Clarissa along with a bottle of syrup we had prepared. And there was further rejoicing.

At our height of five colonies we were feeling confident and entertaining thoughts of producing nucs to donate to local beekeepers in need. Then came loss after loss until we were totally beeless once more. With two new colonies our modest plan now is to just help them build up and overwinter. Next season we can see about getting more ambitious.

 

The Backyard Feels Better Already

We have had bees for over a week!

Thanks to a very kind friend we were able to obtain a nuc and install it into Dorcas on Friday before last. A full frame of honey, two of capped brood, and two empty comb for laying in. We even spotted the queen. We added five more frames in need of drawing out together with a jar of syrup to encourage the process and, as they say, there was much rejoicing.

Since then we have watched them coming and going, visibly fetching pale yellow pollen and possibly fetching some nectar. Yesterday we replaced the denim cloth we use in lieu of an inner cover and added a second jar of syrup to the one not yet entirely empty. Taking a casual look at the last few frames we saw the beginnings of fresh white comb. The wee colony is going about its business in its new home and we shall let it be for a short while longer before subjecting it to the periodic inspections and sugar rolls of a managed hive.

We have bees again! Huzzah!

 

And There Goes the Last One

	It has not been a good season for our backyard projects. Last season’s lone survivor, Dorcas, had made it through the winter. And there was much rejoicing as we planned splits to restore our apiary to its usual size. In early May we treated her with a thymol preparation to knock down a not terribly high mite count. Whereupon we let busier-than-usual life distract us. We never found time to visit the hive but merely looked on from a distance until one day the usual clouds of bees seemed suddenly smaller. And then one very hot day there was no bearding. We still could not find time. Eventually, with trepidation, we finally made time and found Dorcas not overflowing with bees although with comb after comb full of brood. Unfortunately it was all drones. Not a single cell of worker brood. No queen to be found so laying workers. The hive was not yet dead but doomed. Rather than let the drones hatch along with however many mites we scratched open every cell, cut loose the comb, and scattered the bits far from the hive for the wildlife to snack upon. We left Dorcas open to the elements, not knowing what else to do with the remaining bees. Somehow killing them quickly may have been the merciful option but we were ill equipped to do so. Our hypothesis for what went awry this time is that Dorcas swarmed without our noticing and her new queen failed to begin her reign. Eaten on her mating flight by a bird is an oft-mentioned scenario. Had we been paying closer attention we may have obtained a new queen in time. But we did not. We thought we were getting competent at this but here we are, beeless once more. We have been so for quite a while, late even reporting our loss due to distraction and sorrow. In spite of the wildlife that passes through and the singing birds flitting about and other pollinators to observe the place seems peculiarly empty without the bees diligently ignoring us watching them as they work the blooms. Next season we begin yet again. On the other hand we are giving up on the wee orchard. The quince tree, our favorite, had succumbed to fireblight last year in spite of our best efforts so we cut it to the ground. Raccoons have ever consumed the apple crop, leaving us only broken branches. This year they also devoured the Asian pear. At least they denied the wasps a chance to hollow out the flesh and leave a deceptive, empty peel. Enough. All these will also be cut to the ground. And the tomato crop this year? Let us simply say ‘crop’ has the wrong vowel.