From A to Bee(42)

Here I was, driving a car complete with a full beehive and I have to navigate some of the windiest roads in Surrey to get back home. To finish, I then have to navigate a pothole-ridden farm track to get to my house. To make matters worse, it was now getting dark and I knew that I had at least thirty minutes of driving ahead and so I knew I would be putting them in their new home in the pitch dark. I wasn't feeling particularly confident.



I arrived home unscathed and surprisingly even the farm track seemed fine; they didn't even buzz. I stopped the car outside the house and ran in with the newly borrowed feeder that Suzy had very kindly lent me. Having realised only two hours earlier that I was wholly unprepared, I asked Jo whether she could find any sugar in the house. Fortunately we had some brown caster sugar, not great as I think they prefer white, but would do the trick for tonight at least. Therefore I started to make up the sugar solution by mixing equal parts of sugar and warm water. Very soon it was ready.



As quick as I could I then made my way back to the car complete with smoker and gloves and drove up to the allotment. By the time I had got there it was absolutely pitch black and so I decided that this installation would have to be by car headlight.



I have seen plenty of YouTube videos of people installing their nucleus of bees to prepare me for this moment. However, most of these videos show the charming sight of people in nice soft sunlight putting the nucleus into position. Here I was living the moment complete with torchlight and car headlights. I felt somewhat cheated.



I eventually got the hive onto its stand though, and started the procedure of setting them free. I wasn't too concerned as it was dark and they would probably want to stay where they were for now, but I got suited up just in case.



I started with the mesh on the crown board (the very top of the hive), as this was where I was going to place the feeder. I soon realised I couldn't actually remove the drawing pins holding the mesh in place. Typical. I had to go back in the shed and get my hive tool, which, when I got there, despite its most psychedelic colouring, I couldn't find for love nor money and instead had to settle for a knife.



I finally got the mesh off and put a temporary cover over just in case but then realised I couldn't undo the strap holding the hive together – this was put in place to stop the hive moving apart during the journey. DIY was never my thing and so to see a ratchet-type contraction holding it all together was rather perturbing and I started kicking myself having not asked Richard about this earlier. Truly, this must have been the longest part of the moving-in process. It took me ages to work out what to do and even then I only managed to loosen it a little and pull it gently off the hive. This should have been a thirty-second job but it must have taken fifteen agonising and frustrating minutes. Anyway, it enabled me to get the bright green feeder onto the hive and I let out a small sigh of relief knowing that the bees would be fed at least.



Then all that was left was the small matter of undoing the front mesh, which was, to be honest, the nicest bit of the process as it was relatively easy. As soon as the mesh revealed the small entrance, a little bee popped his nose out and under torchlight had a little look around. Shortly afterwards another popped out to see what was going on too. I decided to leave them to it.



I drove back to the house at about 10.30 feeling quite satisfied that they were all right. I got in, filled Jo in on all the details and walked upstairs to the study, which is where I am now. I have some funny feelings going through my head, not least the fact that I can now say to people that I have bees. I can join in with the discussions on my Wednesday night sessions about how lovely they are and can swap stories.



A thought that has also just occurred and it is something that Laura, Suzy's daughter, told me before I left the care home. 'Now,' she said, 'the queen is called Nefertiti and her bees are collectively called Patricia.' Therefore my queen, if I am able to find her, will be called Nefertiti. I did ask whether the boys had a name and she said no. Therefore to stamp my own mark on this swarm, I will call my boys Paul. Why? I do not know.



I have heard that some beekeepers like to talk to their bees but never name them; in fact I have heard some say that talking to bees is a tradition that should be upheld. Beekeepers should apparently tell the bees all of the family news so they know what is going on. Should someone in the family die you should go and tap on the side of the hive and tell them what has happened to stop them swarming. Hopefully I will not have to be doing that anytime soon.



Suffice to say I was right all along, this has been an eventful week and with only one hour remaining of the week and Monday beginning once more, I can look people in the eye and say that I am a beekeeper. That's a nice feeling.