Yesterday at the island May Day celebration
I remember my mother telling me that very early in the morning on May Day, she and other kids would make May baskets out of reeds, and then fill them with flowers and hang them on neighbors’ front doors.
Yesterday the rain held off for the space of a wedding, a maypole dance, someone’s 90th birthday, and an outdoor pig roast. Hurray for spring!
And so one chance comment by Hallie here a few days ago has drawn me down unexpected pathways.
In the British Isles, there’s a whole cluster of folklore concerning how one must tell the bees when something important happens in the family. Most usually, it sounds like this was observed at the time of a death. There was a belief that if the bees were not duly notified, they might take offense and leave. I also read something about the custom of turning the hives away as a coffin was being carried by.
As Hallie mentioned, the bees were also told of all family good news as well — the idea being that they would spread the news over the land.
I’m drawn deeply into the rich intensity of bee lore, and will post more in coming days… I’ve just discovered an extraordinary British “folkadelic” band entitled “Telling the Bees”, and their title track refers to the old ways of this custom.
Rima Staines is the talented artist who did the covers for their two albums. (One of which is shown above.) Her artwork reflects the strangeness and beauty of the music and it’s definitely worth some time.
It’s after midnight now, these busy days in the midst of a family visit, but I’ll continue much more indepth wandering around bee folklore soon. I can feel the magnetic pull of it all, growing in me, now that I have bees down in my garden.
A line of squalls blew through the clearing today; hail and rain parading through sunshine. Rowan and Auryn and I worked in the garden between downpours, then would snatch up our sweatshirts and seed packets and run for cover when the sound of raindrops started up again.
One hive’s a bit subdued, possibly because there’s a touch of dampness inside. I lifted the lid and everyone was rather quiet, but the queen cage is open and empty. Hopefully the queen is cozily at the center of the ball of bees hanging off the inside of the hive lid. Tomorrow I need to assemble and install the real tops and bottoms, so the bees aren’t contending with moisture.
The livelier hive entrance today
OK, so is this really reasonable? Here’s my saga:
I always wanted to run 8-frame hives. They’re lighter weight for my lousy back and wrists, and they allow the bees to expand vertically a bit more.
I checked the local(ish) suppliers, and none of them mentioned having any 8 frame ware. Kelley’s had some advertised, but the shipping from Kentucky was way too expensive. Western Bee Supplies in Montana had great prices and good-looking products, but also didn’t mention 8-frame items anywhere on their website. So I gave up and just ordered 10-frame components from Western.
Then, a day after my order arrived, I noticed that Western had changed their website and all of a sudden on the home page they mentioned that they’ve been making 8-frame ware for 30 years! And they said — explicitly — that they offered tele-covers in the 8-frame size. So I called them up to ask if I could trade in my new 10-frame covers and screened bottoms for 8-frame ones. (I figured Bob and I could just cut down the hive boxes ourselves, because we didn’t want to pay the postage to send them back.)
No, Western said, our website is mistaken: we can’t make telescoping covers in the 8-frame size because we don’t have the tin. (They have since updated their website to reflect this unavailability.) Fine, I said: Send me the telescoping covers without tin and Bob and I will buy our own tin at Home Depot and attach it.
Vicki at Western Bee reluctantly agreed, although she did inform me that since all 8-frame ware has to be custom made, they could not guarantee any delivery date and it would be a while because there was a big order to fill ahead of mine. She also took the trouble rather grumpily to point out that THIS is why my insistence on 8-frame ware is so impractical, and why hardly anyone uses it.
“I think more people are using it these days,” I offered meekly.
“No, they’re not!” Vicki was emphatic. “I’ve been in the business for 19 years and I can tell you that 10-frame is the standard everywhere and it hasn’t changed.” I figured if I kept the argument going any longer I might not get my new tops and bottoms til 4th of July, so I backed down politely and expressed gratitude.
Then I waited. And waited. Bob cut the 10-frame boxes down to 8-frame, and put new dovetail corners in. The bees were ready to come home, so he also made temporary tops and bottoms for the hives and we set things up.
Now comes the package from Western. And, guess what… instead of each telescoping cover coming with two long pieces for the 19 7/8 inch side and two short pieces for the 13 3/4 inch side, each cover came with four short side pieces. (See photo.) So we have to raid Bob’s shop again for wood, to make up the missing long pieces with.
Inaccurate website offers, rude staff, and botched shipments seem like a lot of screwups from just one seller. Western does have good products and good prices, but frankly, their attitude sucks. If you’re in the market for woodenware, beware!
Once we have good tops and bottoms, we have to figure out when and how to replace the temporary ones. Not only that, but to make matters even more complicated, we set our temporary hive bottoms up so the entry is on the long side (the side parallel to all the frames.) We had no idea that this wasn’t customary. Now the new bottoms have the entry on the short side (the side perpendicular to the frames.) So we have to rotate the hive 90 degrees in order to keep the entry in the same geographic location the bees expect it to be.
Things I wish I’d done differently:
I wish I had just asked Tarboo Valley Bees to make me up some 8-frame hive components. They would have done it, they said, even though they don’t mention 8-frame ware on their website. And then I wouldn’t have had to pay any shipping at all.
I wish I had learned enough about hive construction to tell Bob which side of the hive to put the entry on, when we attached the temporary hive bottoms.
Things I have yet to learn / figure out:
When is the best time to mess with the hive structure a little bit? Can I do it at twilight?
Will disturbing the hive structure make the bees kill their new queen because they’ll blame her for the disruption? Can I do it at the same time I check the queen cage, on Wednesday?
How do I integrate my makeshift hive-top feeder in with the new tin-covered telescoping top? I probably have to make up another medium hive box to house the feeder in, and then put the feeder securely down in the inner cover somehow.
Random bee notes:
Today I watched guard bees at the hive entrances, checking out all comers. Occasionally someone wouldn’t pass muster, and they would summarily be kicked out and attacked, falling to the ground with one of the hive defenders. The peaceable little kingdom has its warriors, that’s for sure. My eyelids are still swollen from where the agitated packages of bees boiled up into my face when I was installing them, and I learned firsthand what the bees’ attack pheromone smells like: almost like fruit.
At least today the bees have been tranquil about letting me sit and watch them. Hopefully our relationship will only improve from here on out.
Foundationless hives, next part of the story
both hives were upset afterwards
The rain finally stopped yesterday and I took apart one of the hives to have a try at straightening out the comb, as various experienced beekeepers have suggested. It was traumatic for me and more so for the bees. The packages were only installed about 12 days ago, but there was tons of comb, all fragile as snowflakes.
There were larvae in various stages, and some gorgeous perfect capped brood, and I was trying so hard to be careful but I was dropping bits of comb and larva all over the place. The bees were frantic and it was hard to see what I was doing through the mesh, with sticky fingers and thread and huge clouds of bees. I never did spot the queen, and I just hoped that I didn’t lose her in the mayhem.
I did my best to tie the biggest comb pieces in to the comb guides, but I’m not sure how successful I was. I felt terrible causing so much destruction, plundering the pristine castle. I’m just going to leave the other hive as is, and then make sure the next boxes start off the right way.