In early February arrangements were made to meet Warren and see about taking my nuc hive home. I was really excited and nervous about whether I could actually keep some bees because my track record was pretty ordinary.
I met Warren late in the afternoon because bees are best transported after dark because they're all "home" and are more quiet. He was tall, and older and seems busy talking and remembering to do stuff. Halfway through saying hello, he waved to a neighbour and took him of to show him a drainage problem, that had shown up during recent much needed rain. He opened his wagon to put stuff in and the forgotten smell of the smoker permeated my life again. The car was neat, but had seemingly everything a beek would need, ready to hand. Little did I know. In the half hour it took to say hello and get moving, Warren plied me with information about bees. I made mental noted on everything. I suspect he was also assessing whether I was up to the task.
We drove to a site in bushland about 10 minutes away, and I saw his "hill top bees". About 15 hives in three rows, 5 belonged to an "old fellow" he was teaching. These were only some of his hives, Warren had his main site and "the milk run" hives that he tended to regularly.
I was overwhelmed by the scale, nervous as shit and keen to get my bees. But Warren was like a father giving away a bride, he wanted to engage with me and be sure I could at least get the bees home in one piece. Eventually, he stiffed a cloth in the opening and I went to lift it into the car. He laughed and told me about the first time he tried to lift a 10 frame box of brood. He immediately understood why his brother suggested he keep 8 frame half boxes.
I braced myself and "shit that's heavy". Warren giggled, it's only an 8 frame nuc". I staggered to the hatch of my daughter's Getz, and brought them down carefully. I checked the base, box and lid were still aligned, check. Cloth secure, check.
I wanted to hop to it, but while Warren encouraged me to take care they didn't overheat, he kept pouring information into me. Fortunately, the mosquitos were keen too and I got going, on the road to mum's (my property was to dry and the bees officially belonged to my sister).
Although it was only a 20 minute drive, it was way late when I got there. I had prepared the hive site with blocks, I reckoned that a hand trolley was best to cart my bees. My son Joe was my assistant, 6'2" and add casual as all get out. I barked orders anxiously and it wasn't long before things went wrong. Lesson: Stay calm.
Half way up the front path, in the dark, I noticed the cloth was come away a little bit. I want to concerned as I (falsely) reasoned that the bees were asleep and we were only metres from our destination. (Fact: Bees sleep only 6 hours each day, mostly inn short naps). Joe had a torch and noticed that some bees had come out and were on the grass. I did all I could do, and kept rolling.
Halfway across the back lawn, things got a little exciting. Joe became animated, saying there were bees dropping out on the grass, I grimaced but had no choice, the finish line was in sight. Joe gave a yelp and the torch beam began flashing about the sky like a search light, I asked Joe to keep it steady as I noticed my nervously interested sister run of into the house. Joe was hoping about, more yelping, I thought it was a great joke and told him to get on with the job blah blah blah. Then I got stung on the stomach and had bees, mostly imaginary, all over me. My tone with Joe softened, we had just 5 metres to go.
With gritted teeth and skin tingling with anticipation of more stings , Joe hanging in there, I finally plonked them on site, quickly checked alignment of the box, base and lid, pulled the rest of the cloth out and fled into the house.
As we began to see the funny side and compared compressors on stings ,(one each), we began to notice some in the house. Mum, housebound with stroke for forty years, thought it was great entertainment, having be visitors and seeing her offspring full of adrenaline and as jumpy as kittens.
The bee stings quickly subsided and we shepherded the bees outside by turning inside lights out and outside lights on. And things began to settle.
My most recent bee keeping activity had been exciting and while there was a possible loss of bees, they'd survive until the morning at least.
Looking lonely. "My" first hive that I will manage for my sister. In the backyard pig my mum's place. Within weeks they showed they were thriving.
I met Warren late in the afternoon because bees are best transported after dark because they're all "home" and are more quiet. He was tall, and older and seems busy talking and remembering to do stuff. Halfway through saying hello, he waved to a neighbour and took him of to show him a drainage problem, that had shown up during recent much needed rain. He opened his wagon to put stuff in and the forgotten smell of the smoker permeated my life again. The car was neat, but had seemingly everything a beek would need, ready to hand. Little did I know. In the half hour it took to say hello and get moving, Warren plied me with information about bees. I made mental noted on everything. I suspect he was also assessing whether I was up to the task.
We drove to a site in bushland about 10 minutes away, and I saw his "hill top bees". About 15 hives in three rows, 5 belonged to an "old fellow" he was teaching. These were only some of his hives, Warren had his main site and "the milk run" hives that he tended to regularly.
I was overwhelmed by the scale, nervous as shit and keen to get my bees. But Warren was like a father giving away a bride, he wanted to engage with me and be sure I could at least get the bees home in one piece. Eventually, he stiffed a cloth in the opening and I went to lift it into the car. He laughed and told me about the first time he tried to lift a 10 frame box of brood. He immediately understood why his brother suggested he keep 8 frame half boxes.
I braced myself and "shit that's heavy". Warren giggled, it's only an 8 frame nuc". I staggered to the hatch of my daughter's Getz, and brought them down carefully. I checked the base, box and lid were still aligned, check. Cloth secure, check.
I wanted to hop to it, but while Warren encouraged me to take care they didn't overheat, he kept pouring information into me. Fortunately, the mosquitos were keen too and I got going, on the road to mum's (my property was to dry and the bees officially belonged to my sister).
Although it was only a 20 minute drive, it was way late when I got there. I had prepared the hive site with blocks, I reckoned that a hand trolley was best to cart my bees. My son Joe was my assistant, 6'2" and add casual as all get out. I barked orders anxiously and it wasn't long before things went wrong. Lesson: Stay calm.
Half way up the front path, in the dark, I noticed the cloth was come away a little bit. I want to concerned as I (falsely) reasoned that the bees were asleep and we were only metres from our destination. (Fact: Bees sleep only 6 hours each day, mostly inn short naps). Joe had a torch and noticed that some bees had come out and were on the grass. I did all I could do, and kept rolling.
Halfway across the back lawn, things got a little exciting. Joe became animated, saying there were bees dropping out on the grass, I grimaced but had no choice, the finish line was in sight. Joe gave a yelp and the torch beam began flashing about the sky like a search light, I asked Joe to keep it steady as I noticed my nervously interested sister run of into the house. Joe was hoping about, more yelping, I thought it was a great joke and told him to get on with the job blah blah blah. Then I got stung on the stomach and had bees, mostly imaginary, all over me. My tone with Joe softened, we had just 5 metres to go.
With gritted teeth and skin tingling with anticipation of more stings , Joe hanging in there, I finally plonked them on site, quickly checked alignment of the box, base and lid, pulled the rest of the cloth out and fled into the house.
As we began to see the funny side and compared compressors on stings ,(one each), we began to notice some in the house. Mum, housebound with stroke for forty years, thought it was great entertainment, having be visitors and seeing her offspring full of adrenaline and as jumpy as kittens.
The bee stings quickly subsided and we shepherded the bees outside by turning inside lights out and outside lights on. And things began to settle.
My most recent bee keeping activity had been exciting and while there was a possible loss of bees, they'd survive until the morning at least.
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