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Long time readers will recognize the significance of the black border. Yes, we are once again bee-less. We long suspected that Beatrix and Frankie had died when we saw no flights on the few, isolated, warm days but Dorcas still reliably produced clouds until recently and we had been counting on splitting her to repopulate our beeyard.

We began this warm weekend by opening Dorcas and found moldy but largely empty honeycomb without any sign of varroa crystals in the cells. As we cut away and discarded the combs an increasing number of neighborhood bees began arriving to mock us and clean up the dribs and drabs of honey we were spilling. We should have looked for mites among the dead bees carpeting the floor but forgot. We are poor coroners in the throes of grief. Our suspicion is that she died of starvation. We did pop in a feeder a few weeks ago but it was too late.

Moving on to Beatrix we found, except for the carpet of dead bees, a textbook case of winter death by varroa. A formerly populous colony reduced to a tiny cluster among much honey and the telltale varroa crystals in empty cells. Not entirely unexpected. We have learned the importance of a late season oxalic treatment but life kept us from applying it last year. The honeycombs were quite moldy. We would be denied the honey harvest consolation of our previous deadouts.

Finally in Frankie we managed to find a little honeycomb that was not moldy along with another dead bee carpet. No varroa crystals. Our guess is that she simply had not grown large enough to keep herself warm in spite of all the insulation we added.

We found a few, dead small hive beetles in Beatrix and Frankie. The bees apparently kept them under control until they could die together. No sign of wax moth either. None of the combs were slimed by either pest.

The bags of silica gel were saturated and we had the passing thought that they had, perhaps, been less effective than the wool we had used and the bees got damp. But then we considered that the bees themselves manage to keep air circulating to control humidity and, just as the mold appears after there are too few bees for this task, so too might the bags have become sodden after most bees were dead. A result, not a cause.

In our misplaced confidence we did not order any just-in-case nucs or packages so it is not clear where we shall get our bees for the season. Perhaps another swarm will visit our apple tree but we can not count on that. At least we will be able to perform various intended repairs and modifications on empty hives without troubling any stinging residents. Not exactly a silver lining.

 

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Once again we find ourselves sprinting to finish posts about the Michigan Beekeepers Association Spring Conference before it is time for the next Spring Conference.

Ned Stoller demonstrating a DIY hive lifter

Ned Stoller demonstrating a DIY hive lifter

Here then is a report on a presentation by Ned Stoller of AgrAbility. Briefly stated, the organization tries to allow disabled and/or aging agricultural workers to carry on productively working. It provides individual solutions that are some mix of body mechanics, modified techniques, special tools, and powered equipment. The last two are sometimes specific to the job as found, sometimes cleverly bodged, and sometimes re-purposed from an unrelated area. Serving farmers, ranchers, and foresters for years the organization has recently been approached by beekeepers.

It is well known that Langstroth beekeepers1 tend to develop back problems from repeatedly bending, reaching, and twisting while lifting heavy hive bodies. Part of the solution is the simple one of learning correct technique for lifting and carrying heavy objects. Another is the common practice of replacing deep hive bodies with mediums. Yet another may be to take a readily available small, folding, adjustable height table to the beeyard2. When removing honey supers to inspect the brood chamber they may be placed on a waist high table rather than on the ground. And when lifting supers at all is a challenge there is the Kaptárlift hive lifter, available as a manual or electric model. It is particularly useful for inspections as it is capable of lifting an entire stack of supers at once to speedily provide access to the brood chamber. The one criticism made was that it could be unstable on very uneven ground. A similar device may be bodged with a hand truck, boat lift, some angle iron, and a little welding.

Another challenge is strength in the hands or fingers that may be lacking or easily exhausted. That can make using the typical cut-out handholds of a hive body difficult. Enter the weight-lifter hook. The padded strap goes around the wrist providing a strong metal hook on the inside of the forearm. The hook is not large enough to interfere with most hand work but easily and securely slips into the hive handholds to hold them.

Such weakness can also make wielding a hive tool for long periods difficult. A simple DIY solution is to cut a piece of the foam insulation used around hot water pipes and fashion a sleeve into which the hive tool may be inserted. Should that prove insufficient, another solution is the Gripeeze. It looks like a mitten with a large velcro flap on the palm side of the wrist. The wearer grips the tool and then wraps the flap over the top of the fingers. Even with fingers relaxed the mitten will grip the tool.

Everyone’s grip loses half its strength when the wrist is cocked forward. For an already weak grip this makes scraping with hive tools or cutting with knives difficult. This can be addressed by finding or making versions of the needed tool with a right angle handle to allow the wrist to remain straight and retain all its strength.

Not only did Ned present an interesting talk covering many other tips, tricks, and tools in addition to those we have mentioned as examples of the kinds of help AgrAbility can provide but he kindly brought all his gear to the gala that evening for attendees to inspect closely and try using.

At present our years have yet left us sufficiently hale to not to require such assistance but be certain that we paid close attention for the future.


1We, of course, put in our two cents for horizontal hives.
2We felt a bit smug since we use such a table ourselves for sugar rolls.

Blackclad hives in the snowThree months without blogging! And still with a backlog of drafts from the Michigan Beekeepers Association Spring Conference last March. We have been neglecting our readership almost as much as we have been neglecting our bees. By now we have had our first two snowfalls and while poor, empty Clarissa is by the barn, flipped roofless onto her stand lest mice occupy her before we can once again fill her with bees, the occupied hives are in a row, dressed in their winter black. We also have several one-pound bags of silica gel in their unoccupied halves to absorb moisture. They should work as well as the wool we had been using and be reusable next season after a spell in the oven. Sadly this is nearly all the winter care we have provided this season.

Master beekeeper Rusty Burlew has great overwintering success and attributes it to always doing what the bees need without delay or excuse. By contrast, we, slackers, in many of our blog posts lament trying to find a suitable window to tend to our few hives, when weather, our paying jobs, and other commitments combine to allow sufficient bee time. This year we did not even apply the late season oxalic drip although we are convinced it has been the largest factor in what overwintering success we have had. Although the mite loads have been low, almost nonexistent, all season they could still climb rapidly in late fall. Rather than sugar roll to check we hastily applied some formic acid pads while weather was still in the effective temperature range.

And for even more fretting, a late peek into the hives revealed that Beatrix and Frankie had, in what seemed to us a very sudden outbreak, small hive beetles. Fortunately the bees seemed to be keeping them adequately confined. Without time to make the boric acid bait for the traps we used six years ago, we hastily added along side the silica gel bags some strips of Swiffer pad to tangle-trap the tiny beetles.

Our winter fretting this season will be laden with guilt.

We had thought that we were done with our laying worker saga and so with punning on Song of Fire and Ice for our titles. Alas, not so. Clarissa nee Angharad, our swarm caught in joyful wonder, has succumbed to the white wrigglers and we are sickened by the loss and the manner of it.

It had seemed that our turbulent transfer of frames from nuc to hive had ended successfully with the bees settling down in their new home and foragers steadily departing and returning. We thought it best to leave them in peace for a spell but then recently noticed the traffic lessen to almost nonexistence. Last Wednesday(2018-Aug-22) we opened her for a look and found crawling horror. Be glad we have no pictures to share. Tiny, white, writhing wax moth larvae were carpeted atop the frames. Inside we saw a pool of fermenting honey and water with drowned bees and more wax moth larvae. Working through the sickening mess, we saw fallen comb after fallen comb and yet more wax moth larvae.

With dejection, disgust, and determination we collected all the comb into a trash bag for discarding, cutting free what had not fallen, and piled up the hastily scraped frames for a proper cleaning later. The hive interior, after all entrances were opened, was washed out with a garden hose, causing a flood of worms to flow out the entrance holes. When done we inverted the hive on the stand as we typically do for a deadout awaiting cleaning and repopulation. The frames have by now gotten a more complete scraping and bath in an oxalic solution.

We are not certain what happened. Something had caused major comb fall. The frames are foundationless and unwired but so are all our top bars in the other hives that did not suffer. However it occurred, we think the dispirited bees thereafter absconded and the wax moth took over. And it is, of course, somehow our fault.

The one bright spot is that in Dorcas, whom we examined first, we discovered the queen, capped worker brood, and uncapped larvae. Of eggs, as usual, we know not. It seems as if Dorcas is once more up to her tricks of last year and gone on a brood break. If she does this in response to nectar dearth, that may be a valuable behavior. But she needs to build up before the cold season. One comb of worker brood between two of drone is not impressive. Perhaps the recent, long-awaited rains and the goldenrod, which has begun yellowing, will give her encouragement.

The bees were calmer throughout our relocation project than we expected although their patience was finally exhausted towards the end. There were bees in the air, on the hive’s face, under the hive, on the hive stand, on nuc parts, just everywhere. Our gloves were decorated with feckless stingers and we collected a few injuries as they found weak spots in our armor. But there was little choice except to persist until nuc Angharad’s bees were housed in hive Clarissa. Then we had to take a long detour to discourage a group of unusually persistent followers and beelessly re-enter our house.

Nor were they quite settled by next day when we took the picture above. Not all the bees had found their way inside the hive. All the patches of bees from the day before were still in evidence, including the one on the ground where the nuc bodies had briefly sat. Of greater concern, the entire backyard felt under siege by a cloud of confused bees. We could not approach the barn without collecting a few interested followers. One particularly upset bee would come to buzz us as soon as we left the back door of the house. We did not acquire any more stings but it was unnerving to get such attention when not suited. Nor did we look forward to suiting up each time we needed a bit of basil from the herb bed or the lawn needed mowing. We feared for visitors.

As the day progressed the cloud pulled back to Clarissa ceding our backyard to us, leaving just the one angriest bee stubbornly menacing us each time we left the back door. Internet lore is that such especially defensive individuals occur even with the gentlest bees and one should simply swat them dead and be done. We considered suiting up and standing outside as a target to be stung by her, after which she would naturally die. But by evening even she had relented (or died of apoplexy) and things were back to a tolerable approximation of normalcy.

The patches of bees had vanished except for the one on the barn. Suiting up we carefully studied the little cluster, looking for a queen but not finding one. It seemed one explanation for these bees thoroughly ignoring the hive a few feet away, right where their old home was. But then if the queen were there surely the cluster would have grown rather than diminished. Another week later we tried gently collecting the bees by brushing them onto a tray and then dumping them on the hive roof to find their own way in. Where they had been was dotted with tiny bits of white wax, which we tried to remove without scraping the paint. The little cluster keeps reforming in spite of frequently being brushed or washed off and is there even now as this is being written. What pheromones are they leaving? Perhaps we shall have another location on which swarms will gather.

And what of the former Clarissans, the bees that had been dumped by the fruit trees? Both Beatrix and Frankie seemed to have sudden population increases, judging by their beards in the hot afternoons. Yet Dorcas, who was a nearest neighbor of Clarissa, somehow managed not to acquire any refugees. She is looking worryingly small by comparison. Actually she is just looking worryingly small. Sigh.

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