Plain Talk: Miracle Bees (271)

Episode 271 – Plain Talk: Miracle Bees

Jim Tew:

Hi, listeners. We’ve got a little break in the weather. It’s kind of slushy and wet, so I’m going to see if I can get back to the bees without falling. Do you hear the birds? I’m not sure if the microphone is picking them up, but since the last time I walked back here, they’ve really awakened.

 That’s always a sure sign that even though winter isn’t over, it’s close to over.

 Here are two bees—and I’m about 80 yards from my colonies. I tried to tell my brothers who live in a snowless area that you don’t really realize how much activity is in your bee yard (and your yard in general) with deer and animals and coyotes.

 Trying to keep my balance here…

 Listeners, I’m Jim Tew. I come to you once a week at Honey Bee Obscura, where I try to talk about real-world, plain-talk beekeeping and the issues that come with it.

Introduction (show open)

 Welcome to Honey Bee Obscura, brought to you by Growing Planet Media, the producers of the Beekeeping Today Podcast. Join Jim Tew, your guide through the complexities, the beauty, the fun, and the challenges of managing honey bees. Jim hosts fun and interesting guests who take a deep dive into the intricate world of honey bees. Whether you’re a seasoned beekeeper or just getting started, get ready for some plain talk that’ll delve into all things honey bees.

Jim Tew:

I’ve got a gate over here that hasn’t been opened in years. It’s easier to get through the barn than it is to deal with that gate, and I can avoid at least that little bit of snow.

 It’s crowded… and yes, listeners, it’s on my list to organize the barn back here too.

 Listeners, I’m shocked. There’s… are these robbers? Would they be robbing this early?

 Last time I came out, I basically thought I had one hive alive. And this time, there’s activity from one to—

 Oh! I’m getting stung. I guess that’s a good way to start the season.

 All right… I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to open them. It’s 46 degrees. I’ve already bought five packages and arranged to buy some splits in April. I want to get back into beekeeping properly. I want to stop making excuses to you.

 Well, this is certainly stunning.

If these bees that are alive can hang on—and the weather’s supposed to be breaking—they will have been through one of the coldest winters I can remember, at times minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit.

 And I know other places get temperatures that bad or worse, but I didn’t prepare the bees for it. I didn’t do anything for them.

 And here’s something I’m not proud of. For you listeners who’ve gutted it out and hung in here with me through all these episodes: you remember I came out because I didn’t want to bother the bees, and I put duct tape on them.

 That duct tape is still in place—every bit of it. Right where I left it. So I guess the lecture I got is: duct-tape beekeeping is an acceptable way to go.

 I’m disappointed both those packages died. You remember one of the packages gave me grief all year.

 Why would this colony that’s packed out— I can’t even pick it up—there’s a ton of honey in this thing… I am completely shocked. I thought I had about one, maybe two beehives out here.

 And the thing you folks don’t realize when you have snow is: they have been going to the potty. There are yellow spots the size of a dime everywhere.

 Well, clearly the last time I came out, some of these bees were still in a hard cluster. And one of them is in that expanded polystyrene setup… so I don’t know what insulation is doing there. 

You know, I think we ought to take a break and hear from our sponsor. So let’s do that.

Sponsor Message

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Jim Tew:

Well, the irony, listeners, is that I planned to come back here to tell you that beekeeping waxes and wanes. Your energy—your enthusiasm—waxes and wanes. And it’s normal. I say that boldly because I’ve been through so many cycles.

 For all you friends of mine in the South—in warm climates—you could always go out to your bees even on a cool day. A day like this would be a winter day in South Alabama. The bees could fly, and since they could fly, they’d use up more supplies… but at least you could go out and watch what they were doing. You could kind of get a bee fix. And I do believe you probably got a sunshine and vitamin-D fix too.

 In an article I’m writing for ABJ in April, I mentioned that I used to get a break when I’d go down to Alabama to help run that program. I’d come back pumped up, ready for spring—because I had seen spring—and then I’d come back to 10 to 12 more weeks of winter here.

 I’ve kept bees in a warm climate and in a cold climate, and it’s six of one and half dozen of another. I’ve even tried to do both—hauling bees to Alabama and Florida to winter them—and it’s a vast amount of work. I’m not doing that anymore.

 Let me say again: I’m absolutely shocked. Last time I was here, out of ten colonies I thought one was alive. Now I think six are alive. I’m stunned.

 They’ve still got to stay alive. They’ve still got to get through what’s left of winter. I didn’t take any honey off, so whatever they made, they can have. I didn’t upset their brood nest configuration. It’s the way they put it together. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it is what it is.

Now—one of the enjoyable parts of snow is what it reveals. I’m standing here looking at thousands and thousands of cleansing-flight spots. When bees die and drop to the snow, their body temperature lets them freeze into little channels—like you pushed your finger into the snow—and at the bottom is a dead bee.

 In a snowless environment, you wouldn’t see all this. There are tens of thousands of spots. I can’t really make a picture of it because there’s no way to capture the scale. But they’ve been having a good cleansing-flight episode.

 I’ve also always checked the most distant location of a dead bee I can find and wondered why a bee flew that far to die.

 And I’ve wondered something else for years: do bees go in a particular direction to “go potty,” or are they just randomly going out and spotting the whole area? It almost looks like they were primarily crossing the fence in front of the barn.

 Now I’m back at the house—thank heavens I didn’t fall. I’m looking at my windshield and I see one lone spot. So maybe 120 yards away at 46 degrees Fahrenheit… they’re not going much farther than that. There are no dead bees on the patio. That’s not science—just an observation.

 Years ago, I asked a very colorful scientist about this. I’m not going to use his name. He said: take 600 paper plates and place them like spokes from the hive—like a bicycle wheel—each plate nailed down every 20 feet out to about 100 yards. Then each day, count the dots. That would show whether there are “avenues” bees use for cleansing flights.

 I always thought I’d do that. I never did. If someone wants to take a shot at it, that was a long-retired (and now past) USDA scientist who said that’s what he’d do.

 Back in the shop now. Coats and gear everywhere. Feet wet and soggy… but I am flabbergasted that so many bees are alive.

 When I came out before and found only one colony active, I wanted to believe the others just hadn’t awakened—that they were still in a hard cluster.

Years ago in Alabama, I told people I’d been told that on nice days you should go out in the morning and bump the hive—wake them up and break up the cluster—so they’d take advantage of the day. And I think I just saw something like that happen back there.

So I’m rambling, but here’s what I wanted to tell you: 

First, during these cold months, I’ve struggled to come up with something to talk about—because there’s just nothing happening with bees. From November to right about now, there’s nothing to be done. You can assemble equipment, paint hives, refurbish… but it’s kind of busy work.

 But it’s waking up now. The off-season is passing. It’s time to get back to beekeeping.

 Now—colonies can still die. I’ve had bees die inside fruit bloom because they couldn’t get the population turned around. So it’s not too late for something to go wrong.

 But right now? I’m pumped up.

 Second: your interest in beekeeping waxes and wanes. That meeting I went to in January pumped me up. And now, seeing these bees alive… it looks good.

 I think this is going to be the year. Right? This is going to be a good year. Let’s count on that.

 I always enjoy talking with you. Thanks for going on the walk with me. I expected to be gloomy back there—but there are bees everywhere, and poop spots all over the world. They’re taking cleansing flights. That’s a good thing.

 Until next week, I’m Jim Tew. Bye.