A Sticky Situation

Despite my best efforts and hard work, I managed to produce some honey my first year. Apparently sometime between they trying to leave, being captured, and succeeding in leaving and my various bumbling attempts to help them be happy, they managed to get out some and collect some nectar.

This past weekend, I was happy to collect ten frames of honey. Not a lot for any serious bee keeper, but let's face it. I am hardly serious. I was perfectly content with my sixteen pints of golden goodness! My wife was less thrilled for reasons that will become obvious, but can be summed up in her question "why are all of the doorknobs in the house sticky?"

I don't know much about processing honey, that I will readily admit. I knew from some conversations with some real beekeepers at the class I attended that since I was making "chunk" or "cut comb" honey, I could get by without investing five hundred dollars in a fancy shmancy centrifugal honey extraction machine which looks like an ice cream maker on growth hormones. The problem with cut comb honey though is that the honey is all inside the wax cells. That means that when you cut some and put it in a jar, it looks kind of naked just sitting there with no honey to keep it company. Some more honey is needed to fill in the jar around the honey comb, and that is where honey extraction comes in. Since I didn't have the equipment and was making up as I went anyway, this turned out to be an adventure.

The first job was to persuade the bees that they should give me the honey that they had been working so hard on storing up. I tried reasoning with them using the politician's approach. They had so much honey, and I had none. It wasn't fair to me that they had excess and I had none. They should be happy to donate a portion of their money...er...honey to me so that we could all enjoy it equally. The bees explained to me in a very buzzy and menacing way that I didn't have any honey because I didn't gather nectar or bother making any, but having kept up with the news lately, I was ready for this argument. I told them that I couldn't gather nectar or make honey because I was already working full time just to pay the rent and buy food. I asked if they had any idea how much medical insurance costs these days. I explained that I was disadvantaged because they were born into royalty (their mother was a queen) and therefore had a huge money...I mean honey advantage that I didn't have. Therefore, it was only fair that they should share the fruits of that advantage with me, a poor, uneducated person without pollen sacks on my legs or a little sippy straw on my mouth that would let me get nectar from flowers.

Like most elitist, wealthy, greedy mobs they immediately ganged up an me and attempted to cheat me out of what was rightfully mine through violence. I gave up reasoning and, still taking cues from politicians, took it by force. After all, if they were too selfish to see that I needed honey too, what else could be done but resort to legal force?

After collecting ten frames of tax honey, I happily went back to the house to see if I could figure out how to get it out of those cells that they had so faithfully worked to get it into.

Conscious of my wife's natural aversion to things that stick, I decided the best thing to do right from the start was cover the kitchen table with plastic sheeting. That way, all I had to do to clean up was carefully remove it and throw it away...just like when I painted the living room with the furniture in it. Bad example...really bad example.

Once everything was covered with plastic, I retrieved the new plastic pail that I had reserved just for this task. The very knowledgeable and wise man at the beekeeping class had explained to me that all I had to do was cut the cappings (the thin white wax covering on the cells) and lean the comb inside the frame over in the bucket and in an hour or so, most of the honey would run out. I could then use that honey to pack sections of comb with. Simple enough. I started by uncapping a frame of honey and setting it in the bucket as advised. I somehow managed to drip a little honey in my lap doing that and some (unbeknown to me) somehow managed to drip onto the floor. Our floors are honey colored anyway, so naturally I didn't notice. After an hour of being very bored (ever watch paint dry? This is more boring), I checked the bucket and found about half a cup of honey in it. That would be good news except the frame holds about a pint and a half. I quickly realized that this wasn't going to get me anywhere and an alternate plan was needed, and quickly. You see, the whole time I was waiting for the honey to drain I was nibbling on honey and comb. I was in serious danger of eating it all before I could get it in the jars! If the first frame took hours to drain, I was going to be there for days draining all ten! Apparently the "expert" who had offered the advise was a fake..or maybe I wasn't listening because I was watching the swarm of several thousand angry bees trying to figure out why we just tore their hive apart.

I went to the store and bought two stainless steel stock pots. I brought them home and drilled holes in the bottom of one and then washed them both. I made a screen filter (don't worry, it was new screen) to go between them. I then crushed the honey comb, releasing the honey but mixing the wax all in with it. I then placed the glob of wax and honey in the top pot (the one with holes in it) and let it drain through the screen into the bottom pot. After five minutes the top pot was empty and the bottom one had mostly honey in it. I was onto something! I decided that a second stage of filtering was needed, so I ran it back through the filter pot, this time with cheese cloth instead of screen in it. The results were beautiful! The bottom pot had pure, golden, very sticky honey in it and the wax was all in the screen and top pot! Which brings up the that sticky subject again. Somehow while transferring honey and wax between pots, I managed to get more than little bit all over the table, which was now fairly awash in honey. No big deal though...I had the plastic on it.

About this time my wife returned from work to find her kitchen covered in bee boxes, jars, wax, and copious amounts of honey coating it all. She (wisely) chose not to look too closely and expressed her confidence that I would clean it all up ("AND I MEAN ALL OF IT!") when I was done. I noticed that the honey had taken on a life of its own and was now slowly, slowly creeping towards the edge of the table. I needed to hurry up!

So...one frame down, ten to go! And I was only three hours into it. I really needed to hurry up! Once I finished the "trial run" with the first frame, I set up a more efficient "production line" for separating the honey from the comb. Of course, this meant handling much larger quantities of honey..quarts at a time instead of pints. This naturally led to some unforseen problems such as the filter becoming clogged and overflowing down the side of the catch pot and onto..you guessed it, the table. At this point I was building little levees with leftover bees wax to keep the loose honey at bay, but they were in danger of being breeched. OK, so they were breached a few times which led to a slow motion disaster as honey ran over the edge of the table and pooled onto my shoes.

By the time I got that last jar closed and washed (for some reason they were all sticky!), I was delighted with my haul. It was so pretty sitting there in sixteen jars on the kitchen counter (I had to avoid the table...it was a mess!)

I guess I must have let the smell of fresh honey get out of the house. Before I could finish my last batch of honey, I heard a knock at the door. I went to see who it was (hey, I just realized why the doorknob was sticky!) and it was an acquaintance whom had not visited in over a year. "Is that honey?" he asked as soon as he came in. I offered him a jar. Before he could leave, I heard a woman's voice. In came my mother-in-law whom I had also not seen in almost a year. "Oh, is that honey?", she asked, eying the jar that the previous thief was taking out the door. I gave her a jar. "Don't you think you should let me take your grandmother some?" she asked, "I am on my way over there." My wife called and asked if she wanted a jar, and she did. "You know, your uncle is visiting. Better bring him some too!". Did I mention that my mother had come to watch the show of me extracting the honey? Of course I couldn't not give her a jar before she left. My honey was leaving faster than I could get it into jars!

"Don't forget your daughter wants some too", my wife reminded me, "I think you should give her two because she is moving away and it will have to last her until she comes home to visit." Yea. True. I then realized that I had promised a jar to my nieces and nephew who felt they deserved it because they had kept such a vigilant watch over my bees when they came to visit their flower gardens and drink the swimming pool water. I set aside a jar for them. "Don't forget your other sister." my mother helpfully offered, " you can mail it to her."

This was crazy! I had worked all this time to collect the honey from the hives, extract it, put it in jars, and would be cleaning sticky and bees wax off everything we owned (I found some on the lawn mower...not sure how that happened), and these ungrateful people were carting it off before I could even have time to admire it! What right did they have asking for my honey anyway? I started out with sixteen pints and was already down to half of that, and they hadn't been jarred for a day yet! At this rate, it would be completely gone by week's end! I had wanted it to last all winter! Sure, I still had enough, but I had wanted to have extra just in case. I started to get irritated, not at anyone in particular, but just that my honey was being carted right out of my house faster than I could....then a thought hit me. "Whose honey? Who made it?"

Suddenly I felt silly and humble. I hadn't made that honey, I had taken it from the bees. Did I worry about the work that they had put into it? Heck no...yet here I was getting upset about "my" stash dwindling before my eyes because why? Other people wanted to enjoy it too? And they hadn't stolen it, they had either asked or had it offered. Some even offered to pay me for it, although I refused

In the end, I realized that although I did manage the bees (sort-of), they did all of the real work that produced that honey and I should be glad to have the six or eight pints that I have left for myself. In a moment of pride and selfishness, I had forgotten that the whole reason I got into beekeeping was to have something I enjoyed doing, not to stockpile liquid gold. I realized that I was happy that my friends and family wanted to participate in my hobby and that something as simple as a jar of honey could bring them such pleasure. I quickly made peace with the situation and am now happy to share my bounty with others. Don't get me wrong...the lesson I learned wasn't a "Progressive" one. I still don't think any of those people had a RIGHT to the honey, and that is the point. I chose to share my hobby with them and they were happy to accept. Things are as they should be.

Besides, next year I will have four times as much...and let's see those bees keep me from taking it all!

"Bee U" - Getting a degree in Beeology

Its been a while since I wrote about my bees. This is for a couple of very good reasons. The first is that my fingers all fell off and they had a backorder on replacements. The second is that my bees haven't really been doing much to write about anyway, so I couldn't have asked for a better time to have it happen.

That actually isn't entirely true. You probably spotted the little exaggeration I slipped in there. The truth about it is that the bees are ALWAYS doing something, it is just hard to know what they are doing when one doesn't bother checking on them as often as one should. Which is difficult to do with no fingers. The truth is that they were actually very busy doing the boring kind of work that bees seem to live for. They have been hard at work gathering nectar and pollen and waving their little magic antenna over them to make honey. And have they made honey! I wasn't really expecting much in the way of the good stuff this year, but they pleasantly surprised me with what I am estimating to be around thirty pounds (that is about three gallons) of delicious honey. I am excited.

During this boring time when they were too busy working to be mischievous or look for a better place to live or sting me, I signed up for a two day course on beekeeping that is presented by the Mississippi Department of Agriculture. This was largely because I really would like to get to the point where I know what I am doing with the bees, and also because I agreed to go to the course as part of a cost sharing deal the state had with new beekeepers. All I had to do was spent a million dollars on beekeeping equipment and they would go halves with me or $168, whichever was smaller. In return for this, I had to agree to attend one of their courses. I don't know if you know much about the Department of Agriculture, but they are a tough bunch when someone doesn't hold up their end of the deal. They threatened to confiscate my hives with my bees still in them, and anyone who earns their living as a "bee repo man" is not going to get any lip from me. I figured it was better to just go to the classes.

This was a beginner's course, which is good because I am a coarse beginner. Somewhere along the line though either I dozed off or they got their agenda out of whack because they were teaching how to treat for hive beetles, mites, and other parasites first thing. Now, I don't know about you, but I have a hard time thinking about beetles and mites first thing after breakfast, so I was a little disoriented. When question time rolled around, I asked (rather innocently, I thought) when you put the bees in the hive. The very educated doctor of entomology from Mississippi State University smiled at my clever joke and ignored me the rest of the day. I obviously had skipped ahead.

Once they taught us how to treat for mites and other bee-killing things, then we started learning about how to make queens. I always thought queens were born into royalty, but apparently you can skip over that by putting larvae in a cup that looked like half of a pea pod and whispering to the worker bees that the princess is getting cold. They go right to work and start treating her like a queen, apparently. Who knew?

When that guy got done, it was question time again. I raised my hand and asked (rather innocently, I thought), who was taking care of the princess in the pea if we haven't put the bees in the hive yet. He laughed at my not so funny joke and also ignored me. Or tried to. I raised my hand again and asked if the queen laid eggs, then the workers hatched and took care of her, but then realized that brought up the age old which came first, the queen bee or the egg dilemma and he obviously didn't know the answer to it because he stared at me for a full minute and then asked if there were any serious questions. Apparently I had jumped ahead again.

The third class was on how to extract honey from our hives. Now I know I am a beginner, but I was almost certain that you had to put your bees in your hive before you took the honey out, which just goes to show how much of a beginner I really am. I was almost too ashamed of my ignorance to ask a question. Almost. I started out cautiously, once question time was once again upon us and everyone else had their questions answered and the teacher finally noticed me standing on my chair jumping up and down and swinging my hands wildly in the air. I realized that I had made too many assumptions early on and that was probably what had confused them. I decided it was best to give them a little background to predicate my question on.

"I, like all of these folks out here," I began, "am a rank amateur beekeeper. As such, I am very ignorant and, like my companions here, don't know anything much worth knowing. But I am here to learn. So let me give you a little background so maybe I can get a straight answer to my question and help some of these poor ignorant plebes in the process. A few months ago, I ignorantly purchased some hives and some bees and, like an idiot, just stuck the bees in the hive. I didn't treat for beetles, didn't treat for mites, didn't raise any queens, and for the life of me don't know where the honey all went. But I must have gotten some good bees, because despite all of that, they still somehow managed to produce some honey. Now my question is simply this: If I were to do this thing by the book, so to speak, when would I be putting the bees in the hive?"

The entire room was silent as they contemplated the eloquence, the thoughtfulness, and the obvious insight that my question led to. It was apparently even more profound than I imagined, because the teacher stood in front of the room on the small stage scratching his gray head and chewing his lower lip. He looked around at the rest of the bee experts gathered on the stage and they all shrugged and shook their heads. I had apparently unintentionally stumped them all. And it seemed like such a basic question to me.

After gathering into a small group on stage and discussing it quietly amongst themselves, the teacher said that he would like to discuss this with me after lunch once we got to the bee yard. I realized that he was trying to buy time to research this difficult line of inquiry I had started and graciously agreed to his terms. We were immediately dismissed for lunch, and I realized that I had earned a new air of respect and awe from my fellow beekeeping amateurs which was evidenced by their pointing and whispering "that's him" as I walked past them.

In the bee yard, I searched high and low for the kind gentleman that had agreed to enlighten me on when I should put the bees in the hive, but he must have had a family emergency because he was nowhere to be found and nobody could remember seeing him. He must have one of those forgettable faces, because they didn't seem to even remember being on stage with him at all. I was disappointed, but resolved to continue to try to get as much as I could out of the remainder of the course.

That afternoon in the bee yard, we learned to split colonies, rear queens, capture swarms in trees, and how to figure out if your bees were happy or sad. We learned how great bees were for farmers, and why crop dusting could be dangerous for them. We learned how to feed them using various techniques including with a 55 gallon drum of sugar water, but at the close of the day, I still didn't know when I should put them in the hive. Maybe tomorrow would be give me the answers I needed.

As I drove home that night, I was very troubled by my obvious lack of knowledge of beekeeping. By the time I arrived home, I had formulated a plan to coax my bees out of my hive so I could somehow store them somewhere else until I learned when to put them back in. I was actually getting excited about the prospect of correcting my terrible error, but it was dark when I got home and one of the things I had learned at the class was to never, ever work with the bees after dark. Apparently bad things happen that involve medical helicopters.

The next day, I was excited. Certainly at some point today, we would finally get to the topic of when to install the bees in the hive. I had no idea that it came so late in the process and was ashamed of my questions that I had asked the day before because they showed my ignorance of the topic so obviously. I resolved to keep my mouth closed the second day and only ask questions that pertained to the topics being taught, then once they got to the part about putting the bees in the hive, I would have my questions answered and wouldn't even need to ask them.

The first class of the day was on "bee compatible plants for your garden." I suppose it makes sense to plant a garden before getting the bees because they will need compatible plants right away, no doubt. This class was followed by one on how to get your bees ready for spring. I got excited because I was sure that someone had mentioned purchasing bees in the spring, and certainly you would need to install them soon after purchasing them. I listed with rapt attention as they talked about nectar flows, temperature, more mite treatments, and various other things but to my disappointment, not a word about installing the bees.

The rest of the day went much like the first. I learned about when to buy bees and what types to buy, but nothing about putting them in the hives. I learned how to work with bees using smoke and various tools, but now when to install them. By the end of the day, I was more confused than when I started. As the day was wrapping up there was a gathering of the students and a final question and answer session. "Any questions?" I resisted. "Anything at all? Remember, the only dumb question is the one you didn't ask." Since I had asked this particular question three times already, I reasoned that it couldn't possibly be dumb, so I raised my hand slowly. "Any questions at all?" I raised it higher. "Anyone in the back? Over here? No more questions?"

There wasn't a chair to stand on in the bee yard, but I found a plastic pail nearby and was jumping up and down on it waving my hands. "Don't swat at 'em like that," one of the instructors said, helpfully, "it just makes them angry."

"I wasn't swatting at the bees, I was waving to the guy asking about questions." I told him. "That's who I was talking about." he replied, dryly.

In the end, I guess I have to admit that I learned a lot. I know how to handle swarms, how to split hives to make two new ones, how to harvest honey, how to treat for various diseases, how to plant garden veggies that the bees will like, you name it. Except for one thing. I still don't know when to put them in the hives. Maybe they're going to cover that in next year's course.