As usual I suck at keeping up with a blog. I keep thinking..hey that should go on the blog. But then that would be weird to suddenly post something after months of not posting. So we will see if I can actually maintain a consecutive weekly posting for at least two weeks in a row. Probably not.
Anyway. We began our beekeeping journey last year. Well actually Rob did because I am deathly afraid of bees. Throughout the year I have become increasingly intrigued by this hobby (from afar of course). I think owning bees is probably the best form of therapy for overcoming a bee phobia. (Note: I am not a doctor and that's probably really bad advice. )
When Rob first started this hobby my mailbox and doorstep were flooded with bee catalogs, bee equipment, bee books, bee houses ("They're called 'supers,' Steph") bee association certificates, bee meeting notifications (seriously...a meeting about bees?). I mean, these are bugs. How much could a bug hobby need.
I have come to realize that bees are a very dramatic bunch. Owning bees is much like playing a continual game of Risk. You always have to stay one strategic step ahead of the bees and their nemesis. The bees don't like to be too cold, too hot, have too many queens, have not enough queens, have too many bee friends, have not enough bee friends. They don't like moths, going thirsty, rain, no rain, or too much rain. They don't like other hives and yet sometimes they like another hive more than theirs. They don't like winter or summer or fall. They tolerate spring.
I am sure some bee-ologist somewhere is cringing at my rant and maybe it is just our particular set of diva bees that are so dramatic.
Several weeks ago we discovered that one of our hives split. What this means is that another queen was born and some of the bees were all like "hey, we like this queen better...she promises no taxes and less work." So after a short Revolution the new queen and her minions leave the hive for newer and greener lands. Meanwhile, we are left with half a hive of pissed off bees. This then creates a "weak hive" because there are less workers and less soldiers guarding the hive.
We thought the hive was rebuilding and doing their honey thing. Rob checked on them last week and things were fine. He checked on them today....total destruction. The dreaded wax moth worm had taken over our hive. I would post a picture...but it is so gross I can't bare to stare at it long enough to focus the camera. We felt like really bad bee parents until we talked to our Bee Mentor and did a little research. Apparently these nasty ninjas are capable of destroying a hive in as little as one night. They fly around looking for a weak or new hive that doesn't have enough guards at the door and then lay a kajillion eggs. The hive is too small to overtake their new visitors and succumb to the nasty ninja wax moth worms.
The other hive looks great. Guess they have a heftier security system. I am picturing a heavyset bouncer type at the hive door named Rick. I wish Rick cared enough to help out the other hive.
So with all farm catastrophes we learn a few things. Prevention is worth...well, you know the saying.
1.) Rob got pretty busy with work and didn't cut off the newly developing queens often enough. If this had been done, our hive may have not split. But sometimes it can't be helped. The new queens form in a brown dirt ball on the bottom of the combs. They can be scraped off with a crowbar looking tool.
--see the picture below...the comb he is holding up has a ball of dirt at the bottom. This is a new queen that will possibly take off with half your hive.
2.) We are not bad bee parents, this happens to even the most experienced bee keepers
3.) I read something about making a homemade moth attractor trap . I am going to make one and see if that works.
So here we are...still waiting on honey for this year. I am still enjoying the process and learning that comes with beekeeping (from inside my locked Kia). Hopefully our diva bees will stick together this time.
