From A to Bee Page 22

  I lifted the hive to the car once more but this time without the stand, and fortunately it fitted in fine. A wave of relief came over me as I realised the move was still on for the morning so I put the hive back on the stand. Having taken off my bee suit I put it and the rest of the kit I would need into the car and I was pretty much ready for the morning. The only thing I would have to do tomorrow morning is bulk up my entrance block. I am sure there must be something on the market that is far more professional than a gauze/masking tape bodge job but it's far too late in the day for that. I just need something that will keep them in place for forty-five minutes before I unleash them on their new home, which I am still to see. I wonder what it is like.

  My last job this evening was to simply open up the entrance again to allow some ventilation. This was pretty stupid as I had put everything in the car ready for tomorrow, including the suit. I couldn't be bothered to put it all back on again and as it was getting dark I didn't think there would be a problem. After all, it sounded quite calm in there now. I bent down beside the hive and prised the masking tape off and then gently took out the pins which held the gauze in place. I then gently took away the gauze and all was fine. For some reason I then decided to shine the torch at the entrance and WHAM, two guard bees came straight at me buzzing frantically. Why oh why did I do that?!

  I ran as fast as I could from the hive, leapfrogged my raised beds and headed straight for the exit of my allotment. They were still after me and weren't letting up. I continued at a rather fast walking pace towards home and after about a hundred metres it went quiet, much to my relief. However, all was not over and they must have regrouped, plotted and planned. Five metres further on they made another sustained attack and this time they must have split up. As one attacked my head, the other went in for the kill on my now exposed belly seeing as my arms were waving frantically around.

  One sting on the belly button and then within about five seconds I got a second. Ouch, they really hurt this time but I suppose that will teach me a lesson. As I trudged back in silence I made a mental note never to shine a torch at a beehive entrance again.

  All that aside, I am hoping that it is like a heather heaven when I open them up tomorrow morning at their new home as they fly out of the hive into a river of nectar.

  AUGUST 21

  Having had four stings in twenty-four hours, I was feeling a little bit silly today. I mean, how desperate must I be to get this jar of honey? I wouldn't have got stung had I not wanted to move the hive. There must be a moral there, or maybe the bees just know something is up.

  Anyway, when I got back last night I searched high and low for an alternative to masking tape and gauze and found… nothing. No electrical tape or gaffer tape as I had hoped, and no foam to block up the entrance either. I was stuck with the method I had used last night, which I didn't have a lot of faith in. However, I decided to take it one stage further and so I was now armed with masking tape (lots of it), the gauze and then tea towels; yes, that's right, tea towels.

  I was going for a thick masking tape primary layer, gauze secondary layer (just in case they nibbled through the tape during the journey) and a tea towel third layer. I thought it an unbeatable entrance and would tide me over until next year when I would get something far more professional.

  It was 5.30 a.m. and I was there early with the plan that I could get them into the car quickly, drive to the location, set them up and be back in time for breakfast. As I approached the hive and got it all secured it looked like it was a good possibility. My plan was coming together and my three-layered entrance block looked great and was very secure.

  I set off feeling confident and it wasn't long before I was driving in thick woodland close to the tiny turn-off I needed to take. I was heading down a main road towards the Devil's Punch Bowl with my eyes peeled looking for a sign advertising a youth hostel. The only problem I had this morning was that the head warden wasn't home and so if I got lost I was on my own.

  Ahead of me I saw it and immediately slowed down. There was a tiny unmade road off to the right-hand side. It was just wide enough for a car, with banks up both sides which prevented me from seeing over them. As I went further down the track and the banks gave way to views of woodland in all directions, it immediately felt remote. I realised it must have been quite damp because I kept seeing mushrooms and the woodland floor was covered with a thick, almost fluorescent green moss. The mushrooms were not just any mushrooms mind you; they were those beautiful ones that look like toadstools and will kill you in an instant should you take a bite.

  The head warden had mentioned that it was a little bumpy down the track. You could say that again. As I continued down, his words were ringing in my ears. I had thought I would be fine as I knew our farm track was pretty bad, and I had therefore taken his words with a pinch of salt. I was very glad I'd come in the four-by-four, as at points it felt like I was about to tip over. My main concern was the bees but they seemed fine.

  The tiny road kept winding round and round but was dropping in height quite considerably as I went down into the most beautiful valley. It was like a hidden world. I went past a very basic-looking youth hostel where, according to my father, he stayed many years previous, and carried on. The road narrowed further and it all became rather atmospheric with the trees feeling like they were smothering you; everything was almost too green.

  I turned a corner and dipped down once again, and up on my right I could make out the most beautiful old house covered in moss, the gardens overgrown in a nice and natural way, and the whole thing looked like something from a fairy tale. This must have been the head warden's house. I stopped the car and looked up at it for a while. It was one of the most unusual houses I have ever seen and given my history as an estate agent, there have been many.

  My instructions told me to drive past the house and then park in a little turning bay up ahead, which I found pretty easily and stopped the car. Behind me, over the boundaries of the fence to his garden, were the remnants of some beautiful WBC hives. Obviously they had fallen into disrepair but they looked lovely there, and so fitting of the setting. It answered one question for me: at least my bees wouldn't be fighting with others.

  As I stepped out of the car, it was immediately apparent how peaceful it was. Nothing moved around here. It was all still. I did a 360-degree turn taking it all in and that is when I saw the heather heaven that I was looking for. At the end of the road, there was a cattle grid and the valley opened out. In front of me were the rolling hills of the Punch Bowl and all I could see was heather, all in flower, which made these rolling hills look like soft pink blankets. I couldn't help but smile. I only hoped I wasn't too late.

  I walked over to the cattle grid and into the valley for a few minutes, taking a closer look at the heather. I had never considered it much before now, but heather on this scale is really quite stunning and I couldn't wait to get the beehive out of the car to let them at it. It struck me again as I excitedly walked back to the car just how quiet it was out here. It was as if the air was still and time had stopped. The heather just stretched for miles.

  I found my way through the heather and into a more wooded area, locating the point that the head warden had told me about. What I hadn't really considered in my plan was finding an appropriately flat piece of land. It all seemed so uneven and rough, not exactly perfect for a beehive which you should try to keep level at all times. I hadn't thought to bring a spade to level an area off, or even a paving slab to give some semblance of a sturdy base.

  After some searching I found a small area which seemed the best of a bad lot. It was out of the way, so that no walkers to the area would come into direct contact with it, and the hive stand would go either side of an old tyre track, now covered with grass. It was pretty much level, and so I went about my duties.

  With the hive now on the stand I was ready to let them out. I positioned the entrance of the hive so that it was facing the heather so that the bees could fly straight out to this gl
orious sight. All looked good, and learning from yesterday's events, I opened up the hive with my bee suit on. Almost immediately a few bees came out to see what was going on. It was lovely to see a few fly out straight away, presumably to see where they were.

  I made a quick retreat back to the car, conscious that I needed to get a shift on for breakfast, but I couldn't resist a quick admiring look back at the hive. It looked perfect there, with the white of the hive against the pink of the heather, and I got back in the car a happy man; I only hope that I am not too late. There is not much I can do but sit and wait.

  AUGUST 25

  I really want to go and check on the beehive today and see if the bees have settled in to their new home, but I know I shouldn't. I wonder what it was like for the bees to suddenly have all those flowers on their doorstep – it must have been magnificent. I imagine it was like a disco in the hive as all the foragers came back in from their travels and performed their respective waggle dances to inform others of where the good sources of nectar were.

  The waggle dance is an amazing phenomenon which in the darkness of a hive allows bees to communicate with other workers through means of vibration. A worker will come in and perform a figure of eight movement around other bees. The angle at which they perform this manoeuvre represents the direction that the particular flower can be found, and the intensity of the waggling, which they do as they draw the middle section of the eight, implies exactly how far away it is. Apparently it is accurate to within a foot in a 3-mile radius, which I find pretty mind-boggling.

  I have to refrain from going to the hive for two reasons. Firstly, I think it is common practice to leave them to get on with things for a couple of weeks to get settled; and secondly, and perhaps more pertinent, I am off on holiday for a week.

  I did manage to call the bee inspector, however, who sounded far nicer than I expected, following on from his email which was rather abrupt and to the point. I explained my hive move and that I only had one hive but he said it was no problem and was more than happy to come over anyway and check the single hive. He said it was just as important to meet up with beekeepers as it was to see their hives, which I thought sounded like good enough logic. I was confident that I didn't have a problem and from my descriptions of my hives, he was too. He again alluded to the fact that I was using 'fresh comb' and this is usually a good thing. We made an appointment for early September.

  SEPTEMBER 2

  I have just come back from a mad weekend with Dad and the morris dancers. It has been a tradition for the last forty-five years that my father has returned to the same campsite on August bank holiday after he got lost trying to find Wales with his mates. They made it as far as a pub called The Kings Head in Withington, and he and his morris men have been going back ever since to commemorate the occasion with the same landlady, who is now in her eighties. Amazing, hey?

  I have come to the conclusion that beekeepers are now a little cooler than morris men and in fact I have decided that beekeepers are not as fat as morris men nor are they as drunk – shame on them – but I always have an entertaining weekend with them, where we stay up far too late, sleep in tents and generally have a wonderful time.

  As I returned back to normality I realised that tomorrow is my 'bee inspection'. Oh Christ.

  Despite the bee inspector sounding nice on the phone I still have images of this rather traditional, stickler-for-the-rules beekeeper coming round to my house to inspect the bees. I can see myself now, standing to attention beside my hive: fully suited up, veil on, hive tool ready to go and smoker lit as he inspects my outfit first. Something similar to the way that Prince Charles inspects the troops while on parade; one hand behind his back while the other pinches a bit of fluff off the uniform. Engaging in polite chitchat, the bee inspector will then make small talk in a rather formal, very English manner. 'So then,' he will say, 'you think you are a beekeeper do you?' Oh Christ, I will be thinking. 'What is your opinion of the new Bailey Comb Change method?' I would faint rather than offer an answer.

  On a more serious note, I will be interested in what he thinks of the Beehaus. I wonder if he has inspected one of these before. I am sure he must have done but I am also not really sure what he will be looking for. It will be nice to see if he thinks I am on the right track, and not fundamentally screwing everything up. He arrives at 10 a.m. tomorrow. Must go and prepare everything and make sure it is all in order (tea and biscuits a must, I would say). Fingers crossed.

  SEPTEMBER 3

  Of all the stupid things I could have done, I have stood up the bee inspector. I feel like an athlete who didn't turn up for a drugs test. I forgot about Jo having a midwife appointment today, and usually I go to these for moral support. I have had to put an emergency call in to the bee inspector. I could only leave a message. Huge black marks for me but there are times when other things are of far greater importance.

  So far Jo is getting on really well with this second pregnancy and, for the second time, we are not finding out whether it's a boy or a girl so it is all rather exciting. We both feel it is life's greatest surprise and I remember so clearly the anticipation with Sebastian as he popped out and, as we had requested, I got to tell Jo that it was a little boy. I couldn't think of any other way I would like to deal with the situation again and I simply cannot wait to become a father again.

  On another note, I am going to look at the hive on Sunday. Hopefully it hasn't been knocked over or vandalised while it has been there. In the meantime, I had better eat some humble pie and apologise to the bee inspector when he returns my call.

  SEPTEMBER 5

  Today was the day of the first hive inspection in the heather fields. Had the move worked? The weather had been good for the last two weeks and so I was hopeful. I also decided to make it a bit of a family outing and so took everyone along. Even Mum and Dad wanted to come along as it wasn't far from them, and secretly I think Dad wanted to reminisce about his younger days staying in that youth hostel.

  We drove down and met my parents by the beautiful house of the head warden who was still away on holiday. It was so weird seeing other people in this little haven of peace but what was stranger as I looked out to the heather was that there was now a herd of cows walking around out there in the valley. They certainly weren't there last week.

  As Jo, Sebastian and Mum and Dad walked around and introduced Sebastian to the cows, I got down to business and opened up the hive with great anticipation. Going through the well-rehearsed routine of lighting the smoker, then suiting up, followed by puffing the smoker, I was getting quite nervous of what I might find. It was going to go one of two ways; either a full super of honey or nothing would have happened at all.

  As I looked through the hive, it was perfectly clear that it was to be the latter. Aside from a few more cells in the super being capped, nothing seemed to have changed. I was gutted. The fact that the hive was particularly feisty did not help matters. The only difference I noted was that some of the outer frames in the brood box had evidently been filled with honey as they had definitely changed and got a lot heavier. It was also interesting to see that the honey was far darker and thicker than I was used to. Maybe now these were filled they might do something in the super. I could only hope. I would leave it here for another week at least and see how they got on.

  As I finished off I noticed that not only were Mum, Dad, Jo and Sebastian standing some distance away watching, but also some walkers had stopped to see what was going on. To top it all off, a little group of cows was now standing about fifty feet away having a nose. It seems beekeeping is of universal interest.

  I walked back to the car with a straggler hanging around me but by the time I got there it had disappeared. I disrobed and started packing away. Whilst talking to Mum and Dad, however, it appeared that the straggler who had been guiding me away from the hive came back. This time she seemed to take issue with Mum, and particularly her hair. Just as with Maggie before, it started on her fringe before making its way to the lon
ger hair at the back. However, unlike Maggie's rather elaborate dancing manoeuvres, Mum was somewhat more controlled which was surprising. She went for a sustained swatting technique with almost robotic arm movements and the occasional yelp of 'Get that bee out of my hair!'

  Fortunately, this time there was no sting and when we managed to get the bee out, she must have thought her job was done and promptly flew off. Feeling a little flustered, Mum made a quick retreat into the car and we duly followed. It was time to go home. Deep down I was a little disappointed but it had been a great experience going out there and I will be interested to see what happens in the next week.