Apis Adventures

If you've been around here for awhile, then you'll know that a long time ago (seven years, to be more precise), I decided to look into adding beekeeping to our Holler adventures. I attended a workshop and then have done nothing more about it since then. Interestingly, the guy (and his family) who taught the workshop is now our neighbor--they live on the ridge; we live in the Holler. Our families have become good friends, and they have a few hives on their property.

Earlier this year, I had once again asked Seth if we could think about beekeeping and if I could go ahead and order a Flow Hive. Much to my surprise (since he had repeatedly said "no" in the past), he said yes. So I immediately placed an order and it arrived rather quickly.

Seth and the boys worked on putting it together.

After it was built, I put some tung oil on it, as per the suggestion that came with the hive.

So, we had a hive. Now we just needed bees.

I wasn't quite sure how to accomplish that. Should we order a colony of bees and have them delivered via UPS? Should I put signs up around the neighborhood, "This way to rent-free, clean, new apartment living designed especially for bees"? Should I stand outside and yell, "Here, bees! Here, bees!" It was a bit perplexing trying to figure out our next course of action.

Remember the guy who had hives that lived up the road from us? A few weeks ago, I was at their house for a Bible study on a Friday afternoon, and Tina had again offered to "catch a swarm" for us if the opportunity arose. Soon after that conversation, her oldest son walked into the house and said, "Did you know there's a swarm of bees down at the end our lane?"

Not wanting to deny that bit of providence, we quickly concluded the Bible study, I rushed home to get the brood box and lid, and Tina suited up (and also suited up one of her sons and Kieran).

We met up at the end of their lane, near the tree where the bees were swarming.  From what I've learned, bee swarms don't stay in one place for very long, so we just had a small window of time to catch them (just a few hours).

Tina got in position and proceeded to catch the swarm, with the help of her son Elijah (who was not suited but only suffered one sting in the process).

 

After the bees were in the box, Tina put the lid on, and then told me to return that evening to pick it up and bring it home. Really? I just put the box in my car and drive it home? Doesn't that seem . . . um . . . dangerous, fool-hardy, and like a really, really bad idea?



But, since they are the bee experts, I trusted them and returned later that evening, after it was dark. Sure enough, all the bees were in the box, and I very carefully placed a strip of tape across the opening. Then somehow I maneuvered it up and into the back of my car. I very carefully closed the door, drove back to our place, and very carefully maneuvered the box into the spot we had fixed for it, inside the chicken fence.

We put it in there because we thought the chickens could keep the grass around it short, so we wouldn't need to weed whack around it. And also so that they could eat any of the hive beetle larva that may fall out of the hive in the future, thus providing a nice symbiotic relationship.

As I look at it now, the set up seems a little rickety.
We may need to fix that in the future. 

For a few reasons, I've opened the hive and worked in it a couple times. It was actually much less stressful than I thought it would be. This bee suit makes me brave. I feel like I should start naming the bees.

And so now we wait. Let the Apis Adventures begin!

Out my kitchen window, day 300

As of this afternoon, when I took this photo, the Egg Counter will be going up much more slowly (for those of you paying attention to the Egg Counter). Kieran and I returned from the Good News Club to find a lone red hen wadering forlornly around the yard. As I've mentioned before, it's rare that Hen and Chick aren't together, so I took a quick look around the yard and finally found the reason Hen was alone.

I'll spare you the details but suffice to say, Chick is no longer wandering this earth and has gone to the Great Chicken Coop in the Sky. (Update: Seth just informed me there is no Great Chicken Coop in the Sky.)

I blame the neighbor's dog (not this neighbor but this neighbor), which I chased away from the chickens a few days ago. Seth, in his new-found affection for the chickens, has sworn to avenge Chick (or maybe he's just looking for an excuse to keep the neighbor's mangy dog out of our yard).

The lady from the Eglu place assures me Hen will be fine on her own, but I've decided to order two more chickens that will arrive in May. Although Seth would like to have a hen that lays blue eggs and one that lays green eggs, I don't know that we'll be able to procure such as these. (As an apiary aside, I noticed today when looking up the Eglu phone number that they now sell beehives. I took that as a sign. I'm not sure what that sign is, but it must be a a good sign.)

RIP Chick.

In more positive news, we had a nice time visiting Seth's sister and her family this past weekend.

Kieran enjoyed spending time with his cousins. (We're still working on Kieran's poses.)

We also enjoyed a visit with Seth's brother and his family. And Kieran enjoyed many hugs from his Aunt Bethany.

Out my kitchen window, days 280-281

I think the chickens are starting to grow on Seth.

Exhibit A: He bought them a "Flock Block" the other day so "they could have some variety in their diet." If that doesn't say, "You're OK in my book," I don't know what does. He insists he's merely concerned about their egg production, but I think he's harboring a secret affection for them as individuals.

In light of this, I felt it prudent for me to pursue my Apis dreams, assuring myself that Seth would come around on the bees just as he has on the chickens. And the above was the view after I returned from a Beginning Beekeeping workshop Saturday morning. The instructor made my Apis Adventures seem doable, and I'm ready to jump into a hive with both feet. However, I think, in light of the pregnancy, I'll use this year to accumulate the supplies and then start with the bees next spring.

Day 281 -- Another warm day, melting the snow and bringing the initial thoughts of spring.

Out my kitchen window, day 254

It's one thing to set goals for yourself that are achievable without relying on anyone else. For example, I once set the goal of seeing the Firth of Forth in Scotland (mainly because I liked the way it sounded, but that's not really the point). Check. And then I set the goal of raising chickens.Check. More recently I've had the goal of losing weight and maintaining an exercise program. Slight check.

It's quite another thing to set goals that can be yanked from your clutches by someone else.

I've been following the progress of Jessica Waston, an Australian 16-year-old whose goal was to become the youngest person to sail around the world nonstop by herself. It's been interesting to read her tales of the sea and wonder just how much craziness it takes to want to sail around the world. By yourself. (Although I must say, sailing across the vast oceans appeals to me more than rowing across said stretches does.)

And then just the other day, Abby Sunderland came along, and with one fell swoop (or with one tug on the mast), Jessica's goal was in danger of being taken from her before she even achieved it. Abby is just a bit younger than Jessica and is after the same distinction.

And then, it appears both Jessica and Abby may see their dreams dashed by 14-year-old Laura Dekker.

Imagine sailing around the world believing you'll go down in the record books as the youngest to do so, only to find out half-way through your journey that your 15 minutes of fame is rapidly dwindling to 5.

I think I'll stick with goals that depend on no one else. For example, rather than aspiring to be "the only Holler-dweller ever to start an apiary," I think I'll stick with the simple goal of "becoming an apiarist." The only person that goal depends on is me. And perhaps Seth.

Out my kitchen window, day 234

After recovering from sticker-shock and realizing that raising alpacas was a dream that wouldn't soon come to fruition, I decided to move on to something more Hollerish. Apiculturing (from the Latin, apis, bees) seems a much more attainable goal.

So, today, I began formulating my plan of attack on Seth The Naysayer To All My Dreams. The Naysayer likes honey and enjoys buying locally made honey from the people we get the buffalo meat from, so you'd think it would be an easy sell. But that's where you would be wrong. There's something about visions of mowing the grass and getting attacked by swarms of angry bees that deters The Naysayer from jumping into apiculturing with both feet (or from agreeing to even think about keeping bees).

This is where you come in. Since Seth is such a slave to what others think, I've posted a poll on the side of the blog for you express your opinion on my potential Apis Adventures. If you vote the correct way (hint, hint), I'll be able to tell him, "9 out of 10 people believe we should raise bees." And he'll cave immediately. (I'll have a backup plan, as well, just on the off chance that doesn't work.)

You'd think he'd have learned his lesson. After all, he was the one who wasn't keen on the whole chicken thing, but in the six months Hen and Chick have been with us, I've made two whole dollars (did I tell you Seth sold a dozen of my Holler-fresh, free-range, organic eggs to a coworker for $2?), and I'm over one-quarter of the way to recouping the original cost. I'd say that was a good investment (well, better than the stock market, at least). Surely apiculturing will be just as good for the Holler as the chickens have been.