On
Monday, I went into the hive to check on progress and make some adjustments to
the comb bars. As usual in a natural comb hive—at least, I believe it is usual
because it always happens to me—a few combs broke off in the process. Honey
spilled everywhere. Several combs were pure honey, so I placed them on the
already prepped harvest platter. Two had some brood and pollen on them, so,
when I was finished, I laid them back in the hive across the top of the last
box. I know, probably a bad idea, but I didn’t want to lose brood, so…I put the
hive back together, tidied up, placed various honey coated tools near the hive
for bee cleaning and didn’t think too much about the clump of bees on the
bench, right in the middle of the honey spill.
Tuesday
afternoon, Mark pointed out a clump of bees hanging from the bottom of the
bench. Hmmm, I thought, that’s a bit weird. I looked in my bee keeping books.
Nothing. That’s no surprise. There is lots of writing on how to build a
langstrom hive in the bee books and often cute recipes for honey, like finding
something to do with the stuff is difficult, but never anything on Bee
Weirdness. And I have a lot of Bee Weirdness.
Bees are the weirdest thing I have ever tried to figure out—and I teach
ninth grade boys.
On
Wednesday, I tilted the bench board on its side to see if the bees would move.
Nope. Even in the rain, they stayed put. A few came and went, several performed
Bee Dances, there was considerable negotiation for prime position, but no movement
towards the hive. We had several visitors that day and they all stood watching
the Bee Clump. It was transfixing. And weird. Tomorrow, I thought, weather
permitting, I’m moving them back into the hive. I installed the bees a few
months ago; I could use the same spray and dump technique to pop them back in. How hard could it be?
Come
Thursday, it was raining again. Downpours followed by warm sun that brought all
of the hive bees out at once. Not good weather for Bee Popping. Once again, I
turned the board to see what would happen. When the bees spread out, I saw Her.
Long, slender, yes, elegant…the Queen Bee. Outside. On the board. Heading down
into the honey soaked crack. Time for
action.
Using a
clear glass bowl, I captured a group of the bees and slid them slowly away from
the crack. Yes. She was still in there, being, as Mark said “dogpiled” by the
other bees. I slid a piece of stiff paper under the bowl. The rest of the group
flew about my head. Quickly, I opened the hive and dumped the bowled bees in.
Looking around, surrounded by confused insects whose home had been invaded
twice in one week, I glanced down. Dang. There was a large bee on the ground.
Queen? Drone? Did it matter? I scooped it up on a leaf and popped her in. The
roof went back on. The hive bees settled down. They really are very
tolerant. The board bees clumped
together again, but, in a few moments, were flying around, acting confused.
Wasn’t there a Queen here, just a little while ago? Where is she? Did we lose
her?
We went in for dinner. When we came
out afterwards, all of the bees were home once again.
Black Bean, Kale, and Corn salad: yet another way
to eat kale…
1.5 cups of cooked black beans
15-18 large leaves of kale, chopped
1 walla walla onion
some garlic
1.5 cups of frozen corn
3-4 T of apple cider vinegar and/or lemon juice—I used
both, because we had both
Salt, pepper, and cayenne
Sautee the onion in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.
Add kale and corn. Cook until tender. Mix together with vinegar and spices.
This can be eaten warm or cold and makes great left-overs for lunch the next
day.
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