Ghostly Bees

Without a doubt, one of the worst things to happen to honeybees of late is the varroa mite. There are pages and pages of written studies on these parasites and I highly encourage anyone interested in the sport of beekeeping to read as much as they can on the matter. Suffice to say, they are bad and beekeepers are struggling to keep them under control.

What are Varroa?

Varroa mites, also known as Evil Incarnate, are essentially minuscule bee-ticks. Oval shaped, reddish-brown, and about a millimeter in diameter, they are similar to normal ticks in that they physically latch on to bees in the wild and hitch a ride back to the hive. Once inside, the female mite finds an open cell with larvae and hides out until the bees cap the cell. Once capped, the female lays eggs and then the babies hatch and suck the blood of the developing larvae. By the time the bee emerges, it is deformed and weakened and usually has a much shorter life span. Emerging along with the mutated bee is a handful more adult mites who then find new cells to infect. From there, the process repeats itself. Left unchecked, an infestation of varroa will weaken a hive to the point of death.

I have no idea why Mother Nature would create such suicidal parasites, but they exist and can lead to hive collapse if you, Keeper Extraordinaire, don't treat for them. And you'll have to because as the saying goes, it's not if you're hive will get mites, but when.

So what can we do to deal with them? Enter IPM.

IPM:

As newly minted beekeepers, we were encouraged by the BANV experts to learn the ways of Integrated Pest Management (IPM).  IPM is a layered offense against pests/mites/evil and keepers monitor and treat them in increasing levels of intensity as needed. You start with passive methods (like screened bottom boards), then move to "soft" methods for treatment (like powdered sugar, essential oils, etc) and eventually work up to hard chemicals (stuff that comes with bio warnings, hand grenades, etc).

When I'd first purchased my hive, I made sure to buy a screened bottom board. According to books and "sea stories" from other keepers, the screened bottom board was my first line of defense against the dreaded varroa. Even they cling to bees, a certain percentage get knocked off or cleaned off inside. The screened bottom board allows the mites to fall through and, since they can't fly and require direct contact to latch on, they die. Good riddance, too.

Screened bottom boards also allow for mite counts. Most beekeeping supply companies sell bottom boards with removable plastic boards that catch whatever detritus falls through. A typical mite count is conducted over three days and it is important for a keeper to have thresholds for when/if to treat. In the Spring mites will likely be fewer, but by Fall, with the winter population on the rise, most hives will see an explosion of mites. Conducting monthly counts will keep your finger on the pulse of mite levels in the hive and, if things are looking like they are getting out of hand, gives you the tools do decide what your next course of action will be.

Discovering the Mites:

The first month of owning my hive, I was blissfully happy because the bees were foraging like mad-women and the mite count was zero. Everything changed the second month when I conducted my count and discovered 15 of the little twits on the mite board. They were small and hard to pick out among the fallen pollen, bee parts, and other junk that fell through the screen, but once seen, it was clear what they were. My hive had mites and it felt as if someone had stabbed me in the gut with a icicle. The honeymoon was over.

I monitored the mites over the next couple of months and thankfully the numbers stayed low. Even so, there was the knowledge that as the population boomed, so would the mites, so I made sure to keep an eye on things. Good thing I did, too, because during a brass-tacks inspection in late-July, I discovered a total of 81 mites over a 3-4 day drop. That went over my 20-mite-per-day threshold, so I decided it was time to treat.

Sugaring the Bees:

The first "soft" layer of treatment I chose was the infamous Powdered Sugar method. The theory behind this is that the bees hate the feeling of powdered sugar and will clean themselves like mad to get it off. In doing so, they knock off mites that are clinging to them. Unfortunately, it does nothing to treat the mites inside the larvae cells, so you have to hit them three more times, each a week apart, to ensure you get a full generation of girls (there's a three week life cycle from egg to hatched bee). It's a fairly safe method that doesn't harm the bees and many keepers like this for the first layer of offense against the mites.

The GF, being the sport that she is, agreed to help me, so we made our trek to Costco, bought two HUGE bags of powdered sugar, and then headed to the apiary for treatment.

The process was relatively quick and easy. The GF and I smoked the girls to drive them inside, removed the honey super, and then spread the sugar all over the brood supers. We attempted to use a sifter and we'd also built a "spreader" from an empty can of oatmeal (complete with holes punched in the top), but in the end we found it was easier to just pull the top off and shake the sugar all over the bees. P recommends that we use about a cup of sugar per hive, but the GF and I hadn't talked with her at that point and we may have used a few cups more than necessary. Once coated, we buttoned everything up and beat feat back to the house.

I learned two very important lessons from the treatment. First, bees haaaaaaate powdered sugar. My hive, which is normally very quiet and gentle, went bonkers the second we shook the stuff all over them. White, ghostly looking bees rolled around on the ground cleaning themselves while others zigzagged in the air trailing powdered sugar. I think I even heard a few make some disparaging comments about my mother. The sugaring was for their own good, so I let the comments go.

The second lesson is that ghostly bees are hilarious. There were thousands of these powdery insects flying around trailing sugar. If they weren't so ticked, the GF and I may have hung around to watch. Instead, we beat feat and let the girls deal work out their issues alone.

And to think, we get to do the same thing again for three more weeks. . . .

Installation Day

I was an excited mess the two weeks before my bees were ready for pick-up. Having purchased a nucleus colony (aka nuc) from one of the BANV members, I was fairly certain they would be well maintained and cared for until handed over to me. Until that time, the GF and I busied ourselves with getting everything ready for their arrival. We built/painted the hive and assembling the frames (by the way, I recommend using a frame jig and nail gun. It speeds up construction). Then I cleared a space in the drain field at the family homestead, set the hive out, and planted several bee-friendly plants. After that, it was a long waiting period with a lot of reading and pacing.

About two weeks before they were ready to come home, the reality of what I'd done suddenly set in. No longer was my dabbling in beekeeping an interesting icebreaker at parties, but a no-kidding, actual event. There was more than one night where I stared at the ceiling wondering what in the world I'd gotten myself in to.

The call that the bees were ready for pick-up came on a warm Friday in mid-May. I was at work when our Education Guru phoned me, so I jumped in the truck and zipped out to her house. It was quite the eye-opener to arrive at her home and see several cardboard boxed sitting in her carport, all zooming with honeybees. Since I'd just come from the office, I was still in my business suit and realized that I had been so excited, I'd completely forgotten the keeper outfit at the house. The EG smiled as I stood frozen in her driveway and said not to worry; the bees were extremely gentle. Her words fell on deaf ears because it suddenly dawned on me that there was no going back. These bees were going home with me with or without a keeper suit.

The EG sealed the girls up and then handed over the cardboard box. It was about four times the size of a shoebox and you could hear all 15,000 some-odd girls buzzing inside. There was a ventilation screen on both ends and it was fascinating to watch their proboscis (tongues) sticking out, feeling around for food and water. We loaded them into the back of the truck and then Pat told me to drive straight home and put them in a cool place. It was warm outside and with the box sealed, there was the threat of them overheating. The best thing to do, she said, was to put them in a cool, dry place as soon as possible.

The drive home was slow for fear of disturbing the girls, but eventually all 15,001 of us made it without incident. I left them in the truck bed, but kept the truck in the garage (which was easily 15 degrees cooler than outside), and went in to change. P and the GF arrived shortly behind us and we collected all our gear/tools while the girls cooled down. P sprayed some water on the vents and then we loaded the ladies into the wheelbarrow suited up. Once set, we all headed to the apiary.

Funny anecdote: the tape on the bottom of the nuc came loose so when we started moving the wheelbarrow, the box got bent just enough to allow a couple bees to escape. We closed/taped the hole immediately, but had a few followers the whole way. What's interesting is that after a few laps of the three keepers, all of them landed on the nuc and held on for dear life. Must have been the queen pheromone. Or the raw terror of realizing who their new keeper was.

The Actual Installation was. . . . .

. . . . pretty easy. Having helped P install packaged bees, the nuc truly was a walk in the park. Once we got to the hive, we popped the top off and removed all the frames out of the bottom super. Then we removed the top of the nuc and slowly extracted each of the five frames, installing them one at a time in the empty super. I'll admit to being tentative and slow, more out of fear than anything, but between the three of us, we got all frames into the hive quickly. Then we added three more frames (8-frame gear) and buttoned everything up. Start to finish, it took us maybe 30 minutes which included some whimpering on my part.

Soon after the installation, the air in front of the hive was swarming with bees. P claims this was due to orientation flights and it was an impressive sight to see. By evening things had settled down, but for a while there, things were pretty active.

A good lesson learned from this experience is that for a new beekeeper, nucs are a very good way to go. Packages are fun to install and usually a little cheaper, but for the money I think a nuc is easier to install and a lot safer for someone ignorant of the sport. Packages can run the risk of not accepting a queen and there are debates about the speed it takes for them to build up foundation and populations, so starting off it can be a lot for a newbie. That's not to say it isn't worth it and those that choose packages can certainly be successful, but nucs are basically ready to go. That being said, below is a bulleted pro/con for each and you can decide which you prefer.

Summary: Packages vs Nucs for a new beekeeper

Packages Pros:
- Usually less expensive.
- Very fun to install. You get to spray and shake bees as well as see up close what the queen looks like (markings and all).
- Can be mailed through the postal office. I'm not sure how the workers feel about a shoebox full of buzzing bees sitting in their offices, but some companies will mail them.
- Very educational. Proof positive how gentle "installed" bees can be.
- Considered by some to be a "rights of passages" for a new beekeeper.
- Normally inspected for health. A reputable dealer will do this, but just make sure to ask.

Packages Cons:
- Bees sometimes do not accept the queen. This is often because the queen and bees are from different hives, so it takes a while for them to accept her as "mom".
- Can take a while for the bees to adjust to the new home. This includes drawing foundation and building brood which can slow production down initially. Queen is not laying yet.
- Packages tend to come from southern states because they get a jump on warm weather. This can be an issue for cold weather states since they are not adapted to the temperatures. Some experts encourage buying local bees and there are companies/individuals all over the place, but as mentioned above, make sure they are inspected by the state for health. (Disclaimer: warm-state bees can be just as successful as local ones. I only mention this as a con since there are debates about cold vs warm weather and honeybee adaptability).

Nuc Pros:
- Bees are ready to go. You usually get 5 frames of them with a laying queen they have accepted. It's basically a mini hive with drawn comb and bees ready to forage.
- Extremely easy to install.
- Inspected for health. The box should have a sticker from the state.
- Great for a new beekeeper (my opinion).

Nuc Cons:
- Usually have to buy and pick up locally. Beekeepers are all over the place, but finding one that sells nucs made be difficult depending on where you are.
- Run the risk of killing the queen if you're sloppy (i.e. slamming a frame, etc). This can happen with packages, but I note it since it is a con.
- Risk of unhealthy/infected bees. Again, ensure your wrangler is inspected by the state.
- Tend to be more expensive.
- Tend to be in high demand and limited supply. If you want to go this route, let your seller know early.


In the end, the choice is personal and both can be very effective/successful. The best thing you can do is educate yourself and decide which fits you best. But no matter what, either one is very enjoyable.

Diving into the Deep End

For anyone that has ever thought of facing their worst nightmare, may I suggest two things:


1) Have a mentor of some sort.

2) Make sure you actually want to go through with it.

I was lucky to have half of that going for me. Thanks to the wonderful folks at BANV, I was assigned a fantastic mentor who is about the best you can ask for. P, for short, has been keeping bees for over 30 years and lives about 10 minutes from my apiary (aka bee yard). She's smart, funny, and can zip through a "brass tacks" inspection in record time. (Brass Tacks, by the way, refers to going all the way to the bottom of something, in this case the hive, where the "brass tacks" would be located. Don't worry, we'll scrabble a glossary together at some point).

The main reason why P is such a great mentor, however, is her willingness to allow me to baby-step along the way. Soon after being assigned to her, she asked if I wanted to help her inspect the three dead-out hives which, as we discovered, had died due to a combination of varroa mites (evil incarnate) and starvation. Apparently a lot of keepers lost hives this past winter to starvation because during the sudden cold snaps, the bees refused to move off the comb where the brood (babies) were to get more food. It's like a catch-22 where if they'd moved, the brood would have died, yet not going into the upper stories of the hive where the honey was meant death. It was quite a site to see thousands of dead bees on the bottom of a hive and hundreds of corpses more head-first in a honey cell especially since it meant they had chosen to starve rather than leave the larvae to freeze.

As morose as inspecting a dead-out hive may sound, it's actually a perfect first step for a near-phobia-wanna-be-beekeeper. After the initial uneasiness of approaching and opening the hive, I became fascinated with how it was put together and all the inner workings that made it tick. Since the inhabitants were dead, there was little threat and, sick as it sounds, that put me at ease. P let me practice pulling out frames (individual wooden slats with beeswax foundations that the bees use for babies, honey, pollen storage, etc) and practice cleaning beeswax and propolis (the bee's version of caulk) off the wooden ware.

By the time we got to her live hive, I was feeling a little better about things. We did a brass tacks inspection, weighed it (it was on an industrial sized scale), and boogied out. I may have smoked them a few dozen times too many, but I was pretty proud of myself for not screaming. P then asked if I wanted to help her install the new bees whenever they arrived. Without thinking, I said yes.

A few weeks later, she invited me over to help her install two new packages of Italians. At that point, I was enjoying the beginner beekeeping course, but still unsure about whether or not I was going to pull the trigger on becoming a keeper myself. Since I was waffling, it made sense to assist her. If there was ever a test to see if it was something doable, this was it. Better to jump into the deep end and sink or swim than never jump at all.

I'll say this now, The Girlfriend surprised the heck out of me when I told her what my plans were for that Saturday. Not only did she encourage such a hair-brained idea, but begged to come along and watch. It took several times of me asking, "Are you suuuuure?" before I realized she really was. And so it was on a bright, chilly March morning (my birthday, in fact) that The Girlfriend and I headed to P's to play with her B's.

(see previous post regarding puns)

When we arrived, P had a bunch of her spare hive parts around her garage which we were able to inspect and tinker with. Then P pulled out her spare gear and The Girlfriend asked to suit up as well. What's great is that even though she only had a veil, she was fine with it. So there we were, P in her bee-Kevlar, me in a half-jacket, and the GF with only her "going out" outfit and a veil. Without missing a step we sauntered out into P's apiary.

Packages of bees tend to come in wooden boxes nearly double the size of a shoebox. There are screens on either side, a large can of food (generally a sugar syrup mix), and a small, separate box with the queen and her attendants. In the middle of all this is approximately 11,000 buzzing, hungry bees.

Some people have packages mailed to their local post office, which I'm sure is a lot of fun for the postal clerks, but the majority pick them up from bee wranglers. These ladies and gents drive down to places like Georgia with large trailers and pick up hundreds of packages to bring back to beekeepers in their area. The sight, and sound, of a truck full of bees is pretty amazing.

There's plenty of literature out there for how to install a package of bees, so I won't bore you with the details. I do, however, highly encourage anyone interested to either help or, at the least, watch. You'd be surprised how easy it is and how gentle the bees really are.

You'll also be surprised at how quickly your heart can beat, especially when your mentor tells you to bang the corner of the package of bees on the ground in order to "knock all the girls to one end."

Me: "I'm sorry. What?"

P: "Bang the corner. It'll knock them all to one end so you can shake them into the hive."

Me: "You want me to slam a box of 11,000 bees, with stingers, on the ground and then shake them into the hive like I'm sifting sand?"

P: "Yup."

Long story short, I did as directed. It was not only a whole lot of fun, but also a gigantic eye-opener to the personality of bees. One thing I learned is that once you spray them with sugar syrup, it's a whole lot easier to shake them into the hive. And yes, shaking 11,000 bees into a hive was probably the best part.

What's interesting is that it took us a lot less time than I thought and before we knew it, we were done and headed back to P's garage. The GF had participated in a lot of the evolution, had taken some photos, and generally enjoyed an afternoon of laughing at me while I whimpered and cursed trying to get bees into the hive. P, for her part, had been great with her advice and guidance, always offering help but allowing me to slowly complete a task.

Below are a number of important lessons I learned which are worth noting:

1) Packages of bees are easy to install, but take longer to "grow" than a nucleus colony. Beginners may want to think about a nuc for their first hive(s) since it is essentially a mini-hive worth of bees and queen already hard at work. I wound up choosing a nuc and have had zero hiccups. And it was even easier than a package.

2) Packages tend to consist of a queen and 10,000-12,000 bees, many times from different hives. Bees are shaken into the box from hives and a queen box with attendants added. Because of that, sometimes the bees refuse to accept the queen since she doesn't smell like "mom". They may kill or roll her (kick her out), in which case you have to get a new one in asap. There's absolutely nothing wrong with package bees, though, because most times they accept her, but the chance exists that they may not. Just keep it in mind.

3) Bees are the most gentle when you're installing them. Since they don't know the hive is home yet, they are less interested in defending it. That's not to say they still won't sting you if you crush one (like P did), but they are very passive and easy to handle. And, if you spray them with sugar syrup before shaking them, there will be less bees flying around you. Just don't over do it.

4) Packaged bees tend to take "cleansing flights". This is because they have been "holding it" for several days and really need to "go". If it's chilly, they will land, and subsequently defecate, on your nice, clean, bee suit.

5) Bee poop stains.

6) Bees are not aggressive nor do they want to sting anyone. Although they can sting another insect multiple times with no adverse affect, stinging a mammal is fatal. Because of this, honeybees will run from you in the wild and will normally only sting while defending the hive (i.e. during a major honey flow) or if you crush them. Be careful and watch where your hands are while handling them to avoid this.

7) Bees willingly die trying to protect their young. Ask almost anyone who lost hives this last winter and they'll tell you about it. There is something awe-inspiring about an insect that is willing to starve to death in order to keep the babies warm.

8) Beekeepers are odd. They fall in love with bugs that carry weapons, swoon over and care for them like babies, and cry when they leave or die. They talk incessantly about their passion to anyone who will listen and worry constantly about their "girls". Given the short period of time I've had with a hive of my own, I completely understand.

9) Girlfriends that support you even though you are one of those odd beekeeper types are worth their weight in gold.

10) Childhood phobias are both debilitating and 100% worth getting over.

In then end, I had a lot of fun, learned a ton about bees, and felt a lot better about tackling the backyard science of beekeeping.

It was one of the best birthday presents ever.

(Author left, GF right)

(Author about to pull the food can out of the package)

(The GF and Author with the package fully installed. Victory!)

The Beginning and Goals

The Background:

First things first, I am terrified of bees. Not to the point of having a phobia, but enough raw fear that every memory I have of them involves flinching or running. My earliest memory of them was when I was stung after stepping on one on my front yard. Add in a childhood friend convincing me that bee stings would kill you and the foundation was set for a lifelong fear of an insect no bigger than a half dollar.

Trust me, it's not something I'm proud of.

So it must have come as a shock when I mentioned to my friends and family a sudden interest in beekeeping.


How it all got started:

There's been a lot of attention paid to bees in recent years. The sudden impact of Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) skyrocketed society's interest in them. Many new beekeepers became interested as a result. I, however, knew nothing about CCD or the sudden decline of commercial beekeeping until I was already involved.

Makes me think I need to read the paper more often.

My entrance into the science of keeping bees was completely lackluster.

About two years ago, my father and I flew to Fort Meyer, FL to play golf with my uncle and his ex-brother-in-law. During breakfast one morning, the ex-brother-in-law broke out a jar of honey for our toast and I was blown away by the taste. When I asked him about it, he said it was from the beekeepers to whom he leased some of his Michigan farmland. Apparently the bees worked the Russian Thistle (a flower he had planted) and he got some of their product as a bonus. This stuff was good, better than anything store-bought for sure.

We talked about it for a moment and then he went into the science of the hive. He told me about the queen and her pheromones, how forager bees take orientation flights, and how shocking it is to watch a hive swarm. The more he went on about it, the more fascinated I became.

The Class:

Fast forward eighteen months. I spent my time reading everything I could get my hands on regarding backyard beekeeping. (On a side note, a couple great books I'd recommend are Beekeeping for Dummies by Howland Blackistone, The Backyard Beekeeper by Kim Flottum, and anything by Roger Morse. They are fantastic starting points for anyone interested in this sport. Believe me, checking on a hive can be a workout for us newbies.)

Anyway, after a year and a half of research, I decided to take a beekeeping course through the local club. In my case, this was with the Beekeeper's Association of Northern Virginia (BANV). They are a great crew of knowledgeable individuals and they teach one heck of a introductory course. Anyone in the Northern Virginia area who's interested, I recommend visiting their website at http://www.beekeepersnova.org.

After the class, I built the hive and bought the bees. Surprisingly, corralling 20,000 females into a box was easier than I thought. More on that experience later.

The Goal:

This blog is more or less designed to be a venting place for some of the interesting experiences, stupid antics, and fun facts I've learned in my short career as an amature beekeeper. More importantly, however, it's a place for anyone that is interested in this sport (and yes, I consider it one since you play defense against 60,000 ladies) to congregate, discuss, and share their experiences as well.

That bee-ing said, let's get the ball rolling.

(Yeah, I can guarantee there will bee more bad puns in the future. It's genetic).