It's quiet when I work with the bees, I work alone. Every move is choreographed ahead of time. The bee suit is too hot, the veil makes my head sweat, and I will NEVER wear gloves again. So, I wear shorts, a t-shirt, and worn out tennis shoes. I'm not brave, actually I'm afraid of getting stung, but with everything you enjoy there are consequences. Getting stung is one of them.
The best weapon is a calm attitude and a heavy plume from the smoker. One of my hives isn't as strong as the others. I had to re-queen it. Earlier in the spring I was installing a second package of bees and I made a mistake. I lost the queen. Well, she wasn't really lost, she flew away. Worried about getting stung, I wore a full bee suit complete with thick gloves. After shaking the bees into the hive body I got the queen cage ready. I carefully removed the plug end and stuffed a mini marshmallow into the opening. I placed my gloved finger over the opening and moved two frames apart, hung the cage, and removed my finger. Looking down I noticed the marshmallow stuck to the glove, "Damn!" I tried to push it back into the cage, but before I could get it back into the opening the queen moved to the end and lifted herself into the air, "Damn, damn, damn!" I watched, dumbfounded, as she flew higher and higher until she disappeared from sight. I let out a desperate cry, "Oh no. Stupid marshmallow!" I thought, there goes my queen, $90.00 just flew away because I was afraid of getting stung. Fear, a glove, and a mini-marshmallow brought my hive's production to a halt.
We covered this in beekeeping class. The instruction was very clear; "If your queen escapes stay very still. She won't recognize her new surroundings. She won't know the bee yard, or hive. She doesn't know the workers, who've surrounded her cage on her trip north, they only met a day ago. Sometimes, if you're lucky, she'll fly in a circle taking a mental picture of the area. The queen will view you, the beekeeper, as a fixture of that area. In her mental picture you belong where she belongs. It's very important to remain still and leave everything as it was when she flew off."
I waited. No queen in sight. Two minutes - no queen. Three minutes, still no queen. Five minutes, no queen, just sweat running into my eyes and trickling down my back. Bee suits are incredibly hot. Keith was headed to town. He saw me standing still in this ridiculous outfit and called from the truck, "Hey, was there a nuclear accident at the plant?" he laughed and drove off. I'd have given him the finger, the gloved one with the marshmallow stuck to it, but I was standing perfectly still waiting for the queen's return. Lucky for him I couldn't move for a few more minutes. After ten minutes I gave up. I remembered one last piece of advice from class, "Never, EVER, let your queen escape." If she does its goodbye, queen!
On Sunday night we had snow. Monday's overnight temperature was 20 degrees. It was cold this morning, but I got the call that our bees were ready to be picked up. It seems too cold for bees. I put them in the back of the truck and they were very quiet. A few stragglers were clinging to the outside screen. As the car warmed up, so did the bees. Their buzzing got louder and stronger. I turned up the radio so that I wouldn't hear them. Driving with six-thousand bees in your car 