What was interesting this evening was the role we play as beekeepers and I hadn't thought it would be so philosophical. To cut a long story short we had to decide whether or not to kill off a queen as the colony had already been artificially swarmed (a long and detailed manoeuvre which I won't even attempt to explain as I am not sure I fully understand it yet) but her remaining daughters had raised a new queen cell so they obviously weren't happy with her.
It felt like we were playing God with this hive, which I wasn't entirely comfortable with. Her survival rested on a vote which, with my vote, spared her and we were of the mentality to let the bees sort it out; far better in my opinion.
Casually, towards the end of the session, Richard decided to slip into conversation that last week he was stung on the eye. I couldn't believe it – this is the man who helped me film my first inspection visit and is always such a reassuring presence! Yet there it was on his eyelid, a couple of millimetres from his eye, a small scab.
Apparently, last week at this apiary session, he had been clearing away having just completed a hive inspection, a good fifty metres from the hives, and a bee took umbrage against him and another beekeeper. It flew straight at him, apparently, and then the next thing he knew he was grabbing his eye in serious pain. The other beekeeper standing next to him was in fact Tom, who first told me that you can get stung in the eye. With this being the second time it has happened near Tom, I wonder how many people will stand near him again! However, knowing him a little better now, I bet he was secretly pleased as it meant he could recount this story once more with some naïve newbie beekeepers.
In the end after some immediate medical attention at the apiary, Richard didn't go to hospital but he did take an antihistamine tablet. Despite that, his eye apparently swelled up considerably and was practically closed. It was painful for a day but then it was OK. Needless to say, a lucky escape – if he'd been stung a couple of millimetres higher, then it would have been a whole different story. This event combined with my recent close shave up at the hive suggests the need for far more care around the bees than I was giving them at the moment. Lesson learned as far as I was concerned.
The evening finished with a pint at a new watering hole close to the new apiary location and we saw the sunset overlooking a beautiful lake. Fabulous – I could get used to this.
JUNE 25
'The call' came yesterday. I had already left home for my mother-in-law's when my phone rang. 'Do you want to pick up your bees tomorrow afternoon?' asked a very well-spoken gentleman. 'Yes, yes, yes!' went my heart, 'No, no, no!' went my head. The Beehaus had arrived but it was lying on our lawn and I had to get this white, freezer-type contraption up and in position at the allotment. Not an easy feat given its design. Not to mention I had yet to build any of the frames needed to put in it. How on earth was I going to do this from my mother-in-law's house?
'No, no, no!' was shouting louder in my head and yet I heard my mouth open and utter the immortal words, 'Yes, I would love to pop by tomorrow to pick up the bees.' No, no, no, no, no! What on earth had I agreed to? However, I had messed this guy around enough and therefore set about resolving the plan in my head last night. I was struggling to think how exactly I was going to work it all out. I came to the conclusion finally that there was no way I could do all of it and I would just have to give it my best shot. Not a nice thought to go to bed on. I had again not planned it all very well.
When I awoke it became clear immediately that it was going to be another very, very hot day. Hose-pipe bans are being discussed which is quite incredible given the wet winter. My greatest concern, however, was my nice black car which wouldn't make the journey with bees any easier. As I wasn't transporting a complete hive this time I decided on our saloon car and I was hoping that I could pop the nucleus in the boot, far away from where I was sitting. There is also no way that bees could escape the boot either which was a bonus while driving. Anyway, I set off and arrived in good time at the most glorious of homes, one I only ever expected to see in those expensive property magazines. As I drove up the pebbled driveway, this beautiful, old, wisteria-laden house emerged from behind the trees. It looked ever so peaceful and as I slowed almost to a stop, the small wooden door opened. An elderly gentleman, who I took to be Alastair, emerged. He was slightly hunched over to get his tall frame through an impossibly small door. As I left the car we exchanged pleasantries and shook hands. I didn't dare say to him that I hadn't really got anything prepared back at home.
Money exchanged hands and the correct position in the car was decided. When taking the swarm the boot was really the only place we could put it in, but this time Alastair suggested the back seat complete with seatbelt to keep it secure; sadly ruining my plans of keeping them as far away from me as possible. Generally, when you are buying a nucleus, you will be given it in what is termed a nucleus box which is still made of wood but is about half the size of a hive, and therefore far lighter. I have seen some online that look like very high quality wooden boxes but what was in front of me seemed more the norm. It was a plywood box with a very thin wooden lid, complete with a hole fitted with gauze for ventilation. It was all held together with masking tape which I thought a little strange. This also meant it was a little bit more unstable and hence the need for a seatbelt. The chosen position made it a little bit more daunting as they were right behind me and I could really hear the buzzing but I set off anyhow. I said my goodbyes with one last statement from Alastair: 'Better get them out as soon as possible because of the heat, you wouldn't want them to go into meltdown – heaven knows what they will do.' Gulp.