From A to Bee(31)

Once our group's smoker was lit we made our way to one of the hives. On went the veil; I felt so smug that I had at last got a suit that fit me! On went the gloves and suddenly it all went silent in my group and everyone turned around to look at me. Tom and Maggie started to slowly shake their heads and I felt it must have been something to do with my gloves. I slowly surveyed the group's hands – something I haven't done when in the presence of a group of people before – and then realised that I was the odd one out. I was wearing gloves that looked like they would be more at home handling nuclear material.



The others were all wearing what we'd worn last time, what I would call 'doctors' gloves', those really thin, almost see through, horrible things. What was wrong? I was surely wearing gloves to protect myself from anything and these guys were wearing essentially nothing! Tom politely suggested I swap gloves and said mine would be useless. I have to say, as soon as I saw them manipulating the bees I understood why. They were able to hold frames easily, pick bees up and generally do anything.



The idea, I found out talking to Maggie about it later on, is that the surgeons' gloves allow you to be more tactile and as a result the bees are calmer. With my oversized leather ones, if I wasn't careful, it could result in me being clumsier, the last thing you need when moving frames around. I thought that a fair enough argument.



The session continued and it was lovely to be around the bees again. I actually got the chance to remove a frame of bees and have a look for the queen, then place it back in the hive again – another small, though rather nerve-wracking, step forward. It sounds so simple but it involved the use of a hive tool to loosen the frame, then I had to try to pick up the frame (I see why Tom had suggested I change gloves) all the while fighting the urge to flick my hands if any bee landed on me. All said and done though, I felt a little bit more prepared this time and wasn't quite so scared. I even watched very closely as bees landed on my veil, right in front of my nose, and I was actually happy to watch them walk across it, millimetres from my face.



However, one small event started to turn my rather serene mood. Buying a jacket rather than full bee suit meant that my legs were open to the elements. I went for light-coloured jeans despite hearing that jeans weren't brilliant as bees' legs can get stuck in the fibres; unfortunately, jeans were pretty much all I had available. I watched them on my nice new bee suit quite unfazed and then I saw them on my trousers. This was the moment it dawned on me that these jeans were my gardening trousers. I wasn't overly concerned about the fact they were quite worn but it did occur to me that I had a 'button fly'…



… And there were a few bees taking an interest in that area. One in fact had its head in the fly already. She had free access to a very sensitive area and was already halfway inside. Panic set in, my heartbeat picked up and a long breath in was taken as I remembered bees like to investigate dark, warm areas. A button fly was like a landing strip to possibly the warmest area of my body, which would also be dark. My mind was racing. Here I was staring at a bee halfway into my button fly, working out how to get in further. I was imagining getting stung on the crown jewels. What on earth happens in that event!? Has anyone been stung down there before? Would it swell up? All of these seemingly absurd questions were rushing through my head as I watched a little yellow and black insect inspect the workmanship of my button fly.



I very quickly, and as subtly as possible so as not to draw too much attention to myself, made a flicking motion with my fantastically tactile and flexible gloves (thank God for Tom's suggestion as my leather ones wouldn't have stood a chance). I am proud to say that my first experience of 'handling a bee' was not the very cool-looking movement of pinching a bee carefully between thumb and forefinger as I had seen Tom do earlier but flicking one. Had I opted for the former I would more likely have given it a helping hand to discover what lay beyond my button fly.



Fortunately it was successful: the bee flew away and swollen private parts were averted! Needless to say the rest of the session was spent with my hands protecting that region while trying to look relatively normal amongst my new-found friends. Not an easy task, believe me.



Once the session was over, and I could start breathing normally again, I felt I needed a drink. As luck would have it, Tom approached the group and mentioned he was popping to the pub for a pint. Keen to get to know my mentor and some others, I agreed.



Of the new beekeepers, only three of us went along but as it turned out, most of the senior echelons of the association joined us. There I was surrounded by most of the mentors, not to mention the treasurer and the chairman. Overawed is perhaps a little strong but it was a little bit daunting joining a group who obviously knew each other very well. This is where the evening turned into more of an initiation ceremony.