Thursday 7th May 2009

A parcel of books arrives from the well known online book retailer. Feeling that I wanted to read lots about bees, I had perused the searchable catalogue for bee books. Several years ago I bought Ted Hooper's Guide to Bees and Honey and now I had some basic knowledge, I find the book less scary and overwhelming. I feel that i want to read around the subject though, get a feel on the more spiritual aspects of beekeeping, rather than straight how to texts. My parcel today consists of The queen must die, by William Longgood,and, because once I added this to my basket, further recommendations popped up, so I was unable to resist The Shamanic Way of the Bee, by Simon Buxton. To balance that out I also opted for a light novel - The secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.
James is very grumpy all afternoon and just really wants to nurse a lot, so I pick up the novel. It is a very easy and enjoyable enough read, but I get the feeling I am reading a screenplay. I sit up late to finish the book as I am impatient to start on the others. I notice that each chapter in the Secret Life, begins with a quote from another bee text. Many of the chapters contain quotes from the William Longgood book - The Queen Must Die. I will begin this book next.

Monday 4th May 2009

Most of this evening's class is taken up with discussions about our various apiary visits. Later we go on to learn about the sex life of the queen. Although she normally has only one nuptial flight, she can mate with up to 10 or 12 drones on this single journey. The act of copulation is tantamount to suicide for each drone, as instead of neatly tucking his apparatus back in his trousers, at the end his genitals are ruptured and he falls to the ground, leaving them dangling from the queen. The next drone to catch up with her does not see this as a warning to his own well being - he simply removes the ruptured debris, and has his own wicked way, and so on. The queen stores all this sperm in a special organ called the spermatheca and returns triumphant to the hive with her last suitor's genitalia hanging from her, like the proof of a blood stained sheet, to be lovingly cleaned and cared for by her attendants. (Well, I do like a bit of drama). She then begins her life's work of laying up to 2000 eggs a day, and secreting "queen substance" - the pheromone which keeps the colony working together, and prevents the workers from bringing on more queens.
I ponder over this fact. Who controls the colony? The workers can, in theory, turn any egg which the queen has laid into a potential new queen. The Queen must produce enough of this pheromone to keep the workers happy, so they will not supersede her. A sort of 'bread and circuses' policy on her part, but the workers seem to know the colony will not survive without an effective queen, so is it a win-win situation? True co-operation even? I have too much to learn before I can possibly begin to imagine the machinations of a bee colony.
As we finish, we are given our next apiary visit details. I will be going to the apiary of N, the association chairman. His bees are kept on the edge of land belonging to the nearby agricultural college - land which my ancestors used to work, so I am looking forward to that.

Saturday 2nd May 2009

I awake early after another anxiety ridden dream in which I arrive at the apiary visit to find that I have forgotten to bring B and C's bee suits. I spend the rest of the visit avoiding them, which is easy because most of the day is spend watching a film in an enormous cinema. I then notice John down in the foyer, with James. He was supposed to have been visiting his daughter, so I am surprised to see them there. I rush down and tell him that he has to go straight home for the suits. He says that he has had an argument with his daughter, I ask if it was a bad one, and he says she was venomous. Golly - I guess I am more nervous than I thought! My step-daughter is the loveliest person you could meet, and doesn't have an ounce of venom in her body, so it's a bit unfair of my subconscious to do that to her.
Anyway - I rush out, still in jammies and put the box of suits and gloves into the car, just in case. John and James are, in fact, going to visit step-daughter, who lives in town with her family, and are dropping me off at the university on the way.
The weather is glorious, and the setting, on the leafy outskirts of Edinburgh is beautiful. We drive around the campus a bit, looking for the apiary and then spot a couple of space suited figures. Guessing that they could either be from the astrophysics department, or beekeepers, we head in that direction. Good guess - I recognise everyone, and find B waiting for her suit - C arrives a few moment later, and we all climb, giggling into our outfits, wondering if it should be wellies in or out of the trouser legs. Big Al, who knows all these things reckons on inside.
As we approach the apiary we have to pass inspection by F, who is required by all those university health and safety protocols to ensure the safety of all visitors. Then it begins. We are split into 2 groups, F leading ours, and the first task is lighting the smoker - a very important part of beekeeping equipment. F uses a few sheets from The Scotsman and a handful of wood shavings. The point is to get plenty of cool smoke - you don't want to torch your bees, but at the same time, you don't want your smoker to go out when you have the hive in pieces. The smoke makes the bees think their hive is threatened by fire, so they fill up on honey, and this makes them feel good and a bit drowsy, so they are less likely to sting. I wonder why it makes them drowsy - if I thought my house was burning, I don't think I would feel relaxed about it!
Anyway, my adrenalin rises as F hands me the smoker, with the instructions to keep pumping it every 15 seconds or so to stop it going out. I am almost overwhelmed by the responsibility, and have to hurry to catch up with the group as they head for a hive, squeezing assiduously as I go.
The main object of today's session is to see how to open a hive and to get to handle the frames. F is very good at explaining what she is doing while working and soon we are all gasping in wonder as she holds up a brood frame, pointing out pollen, honey capped and uncapped brood, and we crowd round to find the queen, marked with a green dot. The mysterious inner workings of a bee colony revealed, and suddenly, all I have learned so far begins to make sense.
I am not sure if it is because I impressed her by keeping the smoker alight so well, but F turns to me and says -" Do you want to take the next one out?" Nervously I take the hive tool - another indespensable item - and gingerly lift out the frame indicated. I feel clumsy in the gloves, but as hold the frame up and look at it, I feel a sense of calm. It is not as frantic as I expected, and it feels such a mindful and serene experience. The beekeeper has to be calm, measured and purposeful when handling the bees and show them utmost respect. Zen and the art of beekeeping. Of course, in this climate it is good to be quick as well as mindful, and the bees begin to headbutt us in protest, so we close up the hive. We walk away, brushing stray bees from each other, still amazed by what we have seen. Bees can sting you in more than one way!

Wednesay 25th March 2009

My elder daughter's birthday.
An email from course organiser Al giving further details and enclosing a couple of forms for us to fill in ready for registration on Monday night. The course will run every Monday, with practicals at various apiaries on the Saturday afternoon. These will be the sessions which will determine my beekeeping future.
Due to my lack of a printer, I forward the attachments to husband John at work, and ask him nicely to print the forms off for me. Supportive as ever, he duly obliges.

Thursday 15th January 2009 5.30 am

Wake up early with younger son, James. He is now sleeping soundly, but I am wide awake. The day before I read about Peak oil and various scenarios of world economic collapse and the subsequent effect on our society. I lie in bed, ruminating on these thoughts, which become giants stalking across the dark room, as these things do. I decide that we will have to be more self...sufficient does not really cut it here - self reliant is really the phrase. I remember the book Self Reliance - Recipes for the New Millenium by John Yeomans, which seemed to be all about storing bottled water, dried milk and guns in a hideaway cottage in the middle of the forest, and was currently in a box of other skimmed through books in the loft. I resolve to send elder son up the ladder to fetch said book that very day. I then remember about the beekeeping course. I am struck by a sudden urgency to learn this skill - for such skills will be needed when society as we know it has disintegrated. I creep out of bed and find my purse. The scrap of paper with the email address of the beekeeping course organiser is still there, tucked away like a secret love note. I fire off an enquiry and hope there is still time.