From A to Bee (22 page)

  While I was talking I realised there were several things that I still hadn't done. Firstly I needed to move the hive position as it was too near the shed. Secondly I had no sugar to make up a sugar solution to give the bees upon arrival to encourage them to 'draw' out the comb. In their new home will be the frames with wax foundation strips and you need them to build the comb onto these strips in which the queen can start laying. These also provide a base for the bees to store pollen or nectar so if they don't get this job done first there could be a few problems settling in. It is my understanding that this is standard procedure for newly swarmed bees but perhaps most importantly, I didn't actually have a feeder to give the sugar solution to them. I would have to ask Suzy if she had one and whether I could borrow it. These are usually large plastic or wooden containers that sit directly on top of the hive and will hold the sugar solution. There are a few different sorts of feeder but the bees will have easy access to the solution and make use of it in the hive. Within a few weeks, having topped it up several times, you should apparently be able to take it off because the bees will have established themselves in the hive.

  I finally left home at 7.50 p.m. with my heart beating a little faster than normal. About five minutes down the road I realised I hadn't brought the address with me nor brought any gloves. Typical. It didn't matter too much as the address was cemented into my mind and I was not going to be touching the bees today, just the hive.

  I got to the nursing home just after 8.30 p.m. and dusk was settling in. I drove in and Suzy was there with her daughter Laura, all dressed up and ready to go. We exchanged pleasantries though I felt a little awkward, especially as I was about to steal their bees! While we waited for Richard the swarm-catcher, I was feeling strangely grown up and couldn't really put my finger on exactly why.

  Richard's car pulled in and out stepped a gentleman in his early sixties. I am not sure what I expected a swarm-catcher to be like but I am not sure I expected him to be so charming and normal. From our discussions I was expecting him to be quite precise and almost military-like but this was simply not the case. Tall and gangly like me, with an air of calm and quiet authority, Richard went about explaining what had happened and what we were to do next.

  Walking through the grounds of this care home in my beekeeping outfit, in the distance I could just about make out the hive situated under a 5-foot-tall tree. As Richard had pointed out, these bees could not have been any more accommodating. Surrounding this small and rather sad-looking tree were some 50-foot monsters, which would have needed extreme climbing gear and probably some of Reigate's finest scaffolders to build complicated platforms to get to the swarm. However, they had very kindly picked this small tree.

  So, on the ground was my nice little hive, on top of a white sheet. It was immediately apparent that my open-mesh floor had been replaced with a red, rather old-looking solid floor which had been screwed in place using a metal plate. Richard mentioned that Adam had kindly done this as he felt it had a better chance of keeping a swarm in my box, which I thought was very kind of him. It just meant that I would have to change it back again in a few weeks when they were settled in.

  Earlier on in the day, Richard had cut off the branch holding the swarm and held it over the box and given the branch a tap. The aim was to knock as many bees as possible into the hive along with the queen. The branch was then laid in front of the hive and on top of the sheet, and the stragglers could walk into the hive, sensing the queen was already in there. We simply put some wire mesh over all the openings and held it in place with drawing pins, before carrying the hive to the car; all the while I could hear the buzzing of the bees, which were probably wondering just what on earth was going on.

  I have to say, despite knowing that the bees couldn't escape, it is one of the weirdest sensations putting a beehive in the boot of my car. I cannot think of one more stupid act in the world. To top it all off Richard, who at this point I deemed wiser than one of the Wise Men, gave me a long diatribe about what to do next. One statement slightly perturbed me. Just as I was leaving he said, 'Drive slowly, don't go round too many bends and avoid bumpy roads.'

  Here I was, driving a car complete with a full beehive and I have to navigate some of the windiest roads in Surrey to get back home. To finish, I then have to navigate a pothole-ridden farm track to get to my house. To make matters worse, it was now getting dark and I knew that I had at least thirty minutes of driving ahead and so I knew I would be putting them in their new home in the pitch dark. I wasn't feeling particularly confident.

  I arrived home unscathed and surprisingly even the farm track seemed fine; they didn't even buzz. I stopped the car outside the house and ran in with the newly borrowed feeder that Suzy had very kindly lent me. Having realised only two hours earlier that I was wholly unprepared, I asked Jo whether she could find any sugar in the house. Fortunately we had some brown caster sugar, not great as I think they prefer white, but would do the trick for tonight at least. Therefore I started to make up the sugar solution by mixing equal parts of sugar and warm water. Very soon it was ready.

  As quick as I could I then made my way back to the car complete with smoker and gloves and drove up to the allotment. By the time I had got there it was absolutely pitch black and so I decided that this installation would have to be by car headlight.

  I have seen plenty of YouTube videos of people installing their nucleus of bees to prepare me for this moment. However, most of these videos show the charming sight of people in nice soft sunlight putting the nucleus into position. Here I was living the moment complete with torchlight and car headlights. I felt somewhat cheated.

  I eventually got the hive onto its stand though, and started the procedure of setting them free. I wasn't too concerned as it was dark and they would probably want to stay where they were for now, but I got suited up just in case.

  I started with the mesh on the crown board (the very top of the hive), as this was where I was going to place the feeder. I soon realised I couldn't actually remove the drawing pins holding the mesh in place. Typical. I had to go back in the shed and get my hive tool, which, when I got there, despite its most psychedelic colouring, I couldn't find for love nor money and instead had to settle for a knife.

  I finally got the mesh off and put a temporary cover over just in case but then realised I couldn't undo the strap holding the hive together – this was put in place to stop the hive moving apart during the journey. DIY was never my thing and so to see a ratchet-type contraction holding it all together was rather perturbing and I started kicking myself having not asked Richard about this earlier. Truly, this must have been the longest part of the moving-in process. It took me ages to work out what to do and even then I only managed to loosen it a little and pull it gently off the hive. This should have been a thirty-second job but it must have taken fifteen agonising and frustrating minutes. Anyway, it enabled me to get the bright green feeder onto the hive and I let out a small sigh of relief knowing that the bees would be fed at least.

  Then all that was left was the small matter of undoing the front mesh, which was, to be honest, the nicest bit of the process as it was relatively easy. As soon as the mesh revealed the small entrance, a little bee popped his nose out and under torchlight had a little look around. Shortly afterwards another popped out to see what was going on too. I decided to leave them to it.

  I drove back to the house at about 10.30 feeling quite satisfied that they were all right. I got in, filled Jo in on all the details and walked upstairs to the study, which is where I am now. I have some funny feelings going through my head, not least the fact that I can now say to people that I have bees. I can join in with the discussions on my Wednesday night sessions about how lovely they are and can swap stories.

  A thought that has also just occurred and it is something that Laura, Suzy's daughter, told me before I left the care home. 'Now,' she said, 'the queen is called Nefertiti and her bees are collectively called Patricia.' Therefore my queen, if I am able to find her, will be called Nefertiti. I did ask whether the boys had a name and she said no. Therefore to stamp my own mark on this swarm, I will call my boys Paul. Why? I do not know.

  I have heard that some beekeepers like to talk to their bees but never name them; in fact I have heard some say that talking to bees is a tradition that should be upheld. Beekeepers should apparently tell the bees all of the family news so they know what is going on. Should someone in the family die you should go and tap on the side of the hive and tell them what has happened to stop them swarming. Hopefully I will not have to be doing that anytime soon.

  Suffice to say I was right all along, this has been an eventful week and with only one hour remaining of the week and Monday beginning once more, I can look people in the eye and say that I am a beekeeper. That's a nice feeling.

The day after the night before… I slept awfully and I have to admit it was all self-inflicted. While I was writing the diary I had a couple of gin and tonics to soothe my overexcited brain. What I had just experienced was bonkers and my mind was working overtime, and despite the alcoholic intervention, I struggled to sleep.

  I woke up knowing that a few minutes' walk away there was a hive full of bees waiting to see me this morning and so I wanted to get up there as soon as possible just to make sure that all was well. After all, last night everything was done by torch and car headlight. It probably meant that I had put everything on wrong, or left the roof off or done something else equally stupid.

  Fortunately when I got up there all seemed well. A few bees were just showing their heads outside the hive wondering where they were. Over time I noticed some of them actually plucked up the courage to take a little flight. It seemed they would fly about a metre away and would then get a little bit nervous and fly right back again. I put it down as the equivalent of watching your little ones learning how to walk. They stand up, hold on to the sofa or an equivalent, take a few tentative steps holding on, let go for a step and then immediately grab for the sofa once more.

  I understand now that these are called orientation flights and they are just getting used to their new location. Gradually these flights will get further and further away from the hive until they are satisfied they know exactly where they are going. Apparently they use markers in the landscape to guide them to and from the hive; amazing.

  I lifted off the roof to take a look at the feeder which, to be honest, I dealt with a little bit hastily last night. It all seemed fine but I had no idea what to expect. I must find out just how quickly they should take on the syrup so I can gauge if what they are doing is normal. The only worrying thing was that I saw two dead bees floating in the syrup. Having just done some research though, I found out that this is pretty normal and I shouldn't be too worried. What a way to go, swimming in sugar – it must be our equivalent of drowning in a pool of money.

  My concerns abated, Jo, Sebastian and I went about our daily duties and today this involved meeting up with a group of my old school friends for a barbecue. We packed up the car complete with Sebastian's bee backpack which Jo had recently bought him and got going. It looks amazing on him and he loves running around pretending to be a bee.

  Ten minutes into the journey there was a little buzz and a honeybee landed right next to Jo's hand. Whoops, one got left behind last night. I lost a few brownie points there! Jo let down the window but I doubt he would find the hive now. Sad, really.

I had a minor heart attack last night. Just before I got into bed I checked my BlackBerry and there waiting for me was an email from Adam which I opened and my heart sank. It simply read: