Just wrote a post over at Little Green Bees. Check it out! It’s all about the harvest…
This is what I do.
Several times a day, to be exact. I pull up a chair with a cup of coffee in the morning. Around noontime, I make a quick stop to make sure all is well. In the evenings and late afternoons, I curl up beside the hive, to see what news the honeybees may have.
I pretend that I’m letting them grow accustomed to me; that when we harvest the honey they will be so familiar with my smell they will let us have the honey with no resistance.
I don’t want to be stung, because that would mean one of my poor little bees would have to die.
If you come to visit, this is what we’ll do. We’ll watch the bees.
James and I walked out to the hive this afternoon, for a little honeybee observational therapy. I will sit in front of the hive for half an hour at a time, mesmerized by their activity.
Today, the hive was behaving a bit strangely, with LOTS of activity going on at the entrance. The bees looked aggravated! My first thought (and it’s probably yours too, if you’re a beekeeper) was: “there’s a robbery going on!”
I looked hard at the entrance, trying to detect any bees that may have been out of place. Nothing there. Eventually, the hive calmed down, only to spring to alarm once again! There, descending onto the hive, was an adorably fat and buzzy bumble-bee.
I can tell you that our honeybees found nothing adorable about this bumble-bee as she tried to muscle her way into the hive. She was quite brazen about it, not even bothering to be sneaky with her intentions. Thankfully, Ms. Bumble eventually went away, allowing our hive to proceed with business as usual.
All in all, it was a nice and easy way to be introduced to robbing behavior. I read up a bit on it and now I know to cover the hive with a wet bed sheet should a more serious robbery occur.
Any beekeepers out there? Have you dealt with this occurrence? What did you do?
While talking to a group of folks at church yesterday, the topic came up of simply not having enough time to garden. The not having enough time is foreign to us, as we have arranged our lives so that we have plenty of time to do the things that are important to us! Of course, I realize that gardening is not quite so important to other people. However, what if it was important to you? Would you then find the time to have a bit of earth in which to raise some food? Would you hire someone to do it for you? Would you by hook or by crook learn everything possible?
With this in mind, I posted a poll over at Little Green Bees. If you’re interested in this topic and would like to share your opinion, please click over and vote in the poll. I look forward to hearing from you!
Before I even begin to write this post, let me add the disclaimer that I do not recommend this action and YOU should not try this tactic at home. Not that it won’t work, or you’re not smart enough to do it but if it doesn’t and you’re not–I can’t be blamed for not warning you.
That said, I moved the wasp nest this morning! Morning temps are so pleasant and since I’ve been informed that wasps are cold-blooded critters, I thought I would do a bit of postponed work around their nest. As I worked, I noticed that a few wasps were crawling along the ground, unable to fly. That’s when the brilliant idea struck: I would carefully lift the vine to which the nest was attached and drop it into a paper bag. After some debate with James as to the advisability of said plan, I began to feel I was missing a golden opportunity.
With some trepidation, I lifted the vine, dropped nest and wasps into the bag, slowly folded the bag closed
and then ran like PeeWee Herman being chased by an alligator all the way to the back yard–heart pounding furiously the whole way. You see, I could feel and hear them moving around in the bag and could just imagine my fate if they all sprang forth at the same time. Cold blooded or not, I think they were angry enough to inflict some pain!
So, now the bag lies under an azalea bush in the farthest corner of our back yard. It’s a deserted spot where we rarely venture. Perhaps they can begin a new life there.