Bee Charmer

The first bee-related phone call came to me in early June. I had posted a listing on Craigslist for honeybee swarms, explicating the value of honeybees, swarming behavior and offering my services to come remove the bees, benefiting myself as well by getting to house the new colony. It was not just a swarm call, however, but a cut-out call. The new homeowner of an old house out near the coast, in Elsie, Oregon, had discovered he had bees in his wall. Just prior to this, I had asked my neighbors if they'd mind my keeping bees. To which they replied with their enthusiastic support in the endeavor and invited me over to come take a look at something. Our neighbor, Dan, showed Aeython and I a spot just outside the house with a small, pencil-sized hole up on the window trim where a cable had probably once run through. We stood there talking in the morning sunshine for some time, admiring his 4 different varieties of hops, smartly growing from 5 gallon buckets and strung up to the roof line for vining. As we stood there, before long, we saw a black, slightly fuzzy, iridescent bee entering the hole.
Someone Dan had shown them to, had told him they were a type of rare, German honeybee. Shortly thereafter, I checked out a book at the library on Mason bees and deduced that this is probably actually what they have. When I got the call from the homeowner out in Elsie, Wesly, I made sure to ask him whether or not he knew for sure that they were honeybees and not Mason bees. I told him about my neighbors' bees and suggested that if they are Mason bees, it's best just to let them be and not do anything about it. They're mostly just bringing in mud, pollen and plugging it into small gaps to rear their brood. Nothing too sweet and appealing to more destructive pests, like carpenter ants. If you've got Mason bees in your wall, just think of it as a little extra insulation. ;)

A delightful little example of a Mason bee,
an extremely good pollinator
and a garden gem.

Wesly told me he'd get back to me in about a week, when he went back out to his new house. This worked out perfectly with my own schedule, as I was getting ready to leave to the Seattle area and Wenatchee, to visit friends and family. I did not hear directly from Wesly again, but I asked my teacher, Jacqueline, about getting some assistance with doing a possible cut-out. She forwarded me information for two guys, also local beekeepers, Tel and Wes. I heard vicariously, what the current situation was in Elsie, through forwarded emails from the two guys. It sounded like Wesley, the home-owner, was getting antsy and wanted it done, "yesterday." Tel was saying that he would need to make two trips one for inspection and two to do the job and wasn't too thrilled about the hour and a half or so drive each way. Wes included himself in the interaction, by saying he would offer to help with building a few clam-shell frames with a hinge at the bottom, so I could collect the honey comb and band it together in the frame. I replied that I would love the help and would appreciate learning some basic woodworking skills, since I know that Fred has a lot of equipment available for use and being able to build some of my hive components would be a huge bonus. Shortly after, I heard from Wes, saying that the homeowner, Wesley, had bug-bombed beneath the house. I was pretty down about that news and recalled telling Wesley that if he got the bees out, but not the comb, he was going to have a major ant problem on his hands. But alas, the story continues...........

Wes emailed again, saying that there were still bees at Wesley's, and I finally got confirmation that they were in fact, honeybees. Russian honeybees. I did some research and learned that Russian honeybees are actually a perfect choice for this northerly climate. They tend to be much more conservative with their food stores, and so are great at over-wintering. They are also particularly resistant to parasites and disease, including the most common, varroa, tracheal mites and nosema spores. I also watched several you-tube videos on people performing cut-outs and collecting swarms. Wes planned to go out there and assist me, having collected several swarms already, and set the date for Saturday, June 23rd. Friday night, I was pacing round the house, collecting any odds and ends which I thought might come in handy and be helpful for the task: putty knives, serrated bread knife, feathers, lemongrass oil, coveralls, jacket, rubber gloves, rags, string, a knitting needle, mesh screening, tape, scissors, tarp, sheet, freezer paper, saran wrap, and the hive itself. Aeython helped me load the hive boxes into my car and Fred loaned me an extra sawzall, blades, an extension cord, and some other tools, just in case. I got my little Hyundai accent loaded up and set my alarm for 5:45a.m. the following day.

I wore my butter Amber necklace, a token of honey-like appearance and being similar to propolis (bee glue), in that they are both made from tree sap. I took Aeython to work, out in Happy Valley, then made my way westward. It was a gorgeous drive, past berry farms, mossy, rocky waterfalls, and even a place to fill up bottles with fresh, mountain spring-water. Wes was planning to meet me there at 9a.m. I was a little early, but got to meet Wesley, his wife and 2 year old daughter, and survey the bee situation from outside. There was a hole on the outside of the house in the siding, about a foot away from an electrical box, measuring about an inch in diameter. Before very long at all standing there, I got my first glimpse of one. It was actually fuzzier and cuter than I'd imagined they'd be from pictures I'd looked at online. They are very striking in appearance, with varied widths of stripes, ranging from a rich, transluscent, honey-golden yellow color up at the top of the abdomen, and successive black stripes that get increasingly thick and dense toward the sting. Apparently, it was one of the master electricians who came out to Wesley's, that told him they were Russians. He was a beekeeper himself for many years and was pretty certain. 

Wes arrived and luckily had what would prove to be the most useful items of all, our head veils. He had also brought a clam-shell frame that he'd made, but it was clear to me that it was not going to fit my hive and one would probably not be sufficient enough anyway. I had packed the knitting needle and string with an idea Jacqueline had sent me a video of, where they used it to poke holes in the comb and string it up inside of the frame. It would at least save the majority of their brood, honey and pollen stores and they'd just fill in the gaps with more comb to stabilize it once they got situated. 

We prepared the inside space to work in, a small spare bedroom with wainscoting and two windows on adjacent walls, at the outer corner of the room. One window, to the left of the bees' location, was painted shut. The other, to the bees' right, was a new window that opened. Wes lit the smoker, I lied down a tarp and Wesley got his tools and equipment ready to open the wall. At first I felt we were rushing it a bit. I wanted to be sure that all checks and balances were in place once we opened that wall and became committed to a mass of bees buzzing all around us. After giving the bees ample chance to gorge on honey after being "smoked," Wesley began using his sawzall to cut a large rectangle out of the wainscoting. I mentioned that they were most likely to be up high. We had no idea what we would find. My teacher, Jacqueline, tells of one of her first collections, also a cut-out, from the Venersbourgh Schoolhouse up in Battle Ground, Washington. It was a century or so old building and the comb they found in it spanned from the roof-line downwards to around 6' long. Wesley got the bottom of the wall opened, which revealed, nada.  The buzzing did increase, however, and I believe Wes and I both cringed and held our breaths a little for the sake of the bees, as Wesley operated a very loud power tool and employed his crow bar to peel the wooden wall away.

Once he was up near the top, now on a small step ladder, we hit purchase and saw what was beneath the wall. It was a relatively small clump of about 5 or 6 combs, some running perpendicular to one another. There was a mass of bees huddled down around the far left bottom, making it easier for me actually, to get in where the majority of the comb was, and remove it.  My hive box was on the ground just behind me, and Wes operated the inner cover, or lid, as I scraped out a comb with my putty knife and gingerly moved it, along with a cluster of bees attached, into the hive box, an empty super atop one filled with frames and containing the bottom board. The comb was a gloriously pale and lovely, soft, golden yellow, very delicate and translucent. Wesley filmed me taking each comb out with his phone and working with Wes to get each one into the box. I noticed brood comb, full of varying sizes of pearly white larvae that coil up in a little "c" within each cell. There was also comb with a high-viscosity pre-honey that dripped easily as I cut it out from the wood and bright orange, nutrient-rich bee pollen-filled cells, used for feeding brood, along with the honey, making what's called "bee bread."

Once I had all of the comb out of the cavity, I needed to collect as many of the rest of the bees as possible, and get them into the box, introducing them to their new hive. Many of them had already fled, either outside through the window, their entrance hole, or up to a spot at the top of the other window. I started out by trying to clear the largest cluster first and get the majority of them, utilizing my large, wild turkey feather I had just gotten from my dear friend and longtime art mentor, Michael, back in Wenatchee. I had seen a video of a man using his bare hands to scoop up a swarm of bees that were outside on a post and essentially fling them into the box, just giving his hands a quick, one or two shakes as if flinging off water. Only with bees, they appear much more like honey. They stick and they cling to one another, their tiny legs well barbed to hook onto their fellow mates. They seem to drip, moving at a slower pace and the best way to make them loose their grip, is a sudden, quick shake or tap. I alternated between sweeping my large, stiff feather across the wood beneath them, slowly accumulating a huddle of bees, clinging to the feather, and reaching in with gloved hands to try and slowly, gently, scoop out a mass of bees to then fling them into the box. It was very exhilarating to feel the warm, strong vibration, emanating from their tiny, delicate bodies inside my hands. Human hands and fingers are far to big and clumsy for the detail work though, and the feather proved to be a Godsend. It molded to corners to offer bees a lift, and I could give a firm, quick tap with the quill against the edge of the box to dislodge them. 

Before getting the very last few scoopfuls of bees into the hive box, I spotted the Queen. She was clearly more than twice the size of her workers and female counterparts, mainly golden yellow, with very little thin black stripes at the tip of of her abdomen near the sting. Her abdomen was a graceful, center-swollen, marquis shape. I announced my finding her to Wes so he could be on the ready for this crucial moment of truth. Seeing the queen is apparently quite rare and rather difficult, as she loves to hide in low, dark corners away from the beekeeper and huddling inside a mass of workers. She was gorgeous and I was successful at getting her into the box with the others. Once I had collected as many of the other bees from inside as I possibly could and put them into the box, we decided to move the box onto a makeshift sawhorse table out just a few feet from their old hole entrance. Wesley taped it up from the outside with duct tape and I made sure he knew to back it with something so we didn't end up with bee's legs getting stuck to it. At that point, Wes left, leaving his head veils with us, graciously, and said that he'd love to come and visit the bees in their new location, once established. I was definitely ready for a little break by that point. 

I ate some leftover food I'd brought with me, drank some water, and headed to the warm car for a cat nap in the back seat. I removed the duct tape around my ankles and shoes and cozied up in my own little "c" shape. When I awoke, the sun had come out and I was grateful, because I hoped to deal with that comb haphazardly lying in the box for the time being. I lied down some white freezer paper, just outside the hive entrance on the sawhorse table. I collected my other supplies: hemp twine, scissors, a knitting needle, and a large chef's knife that Wes had left me with. I popped the plastic, beeswax-coated and hexagonally-embossed foundation out of several of my wooden frames. Donning veil, gloves and using my trustworthy feather, I prepared to remove a piece of comb. By this time, a cluster of bees were re-forming just outside their old entrance hole. I decided I would deal with them later. I stood up on the step ladder and opened the hive up, now full of bees, for the first time. I learned how to move slowly while opening or closing the lid, being careful not to squish any bees. There were definitely casualties involved in just about every step of this whole process, I'm sure, but I did my very best to minimize them, however I could. I reached in and tried to gently remove the top-most piece of comb from the box. The upper pieces of comb were less bee-filled, giving me a chance to get a hang of the process of comb-tying onto the frames, gradually. The first few pieces I retrieved were smaller, easier to work with, containing some pollen or maybe honey, but less brood. As I neared the end of my comb-rigging, I was faced with some challenges, larger, brood-laden comb, which I had to cut to fit inside my wooden frames. I rotated them at different angles and tried to make the least destructive cut possible, but ultimately I did have to cut through some brood, a very sad thing to have to do, but I promised them a new, good home where they could continue rearing baby bees and let their numbers soar. The brood comb was also much heavier, some pieces requiring three holes to be tied from at the top. I also had to try and choose the best, open cells to pierce through and some of the comb was very brittle and took a second try, especially if I had accidentally pulled the string a little too tight. After piecing together one frame at a time with enough comb to almost fill it, I would hang them one at a time from the rabbet ledge of the box, now oriented in their typical vertical fashion and able to work with. By the time I finished, I think I had around 5 nearly full frames of mixed comb from their old hive within the wall. This is about as much as one gets when purchasing a "nuc box," giving one the advantage of an already partially established hive with developing brood to hatch and hopefully not interrupt the laying cycle too much. 

Once the surgical procedure of rigging up the comb vertically had been complete, now sandwiched between other frames with man-made foundation on the second deep super up, I attempted to collect the remaining bees on the outside of the wall in a pretty large cluster, again using the feather. Rather than struggle to gently open and close the top of hive while flinging bees into it and trying to prevent others from crawling or flying out, I decided to introduce them to their new hive's entrance and leave the top closed. The feather proved an excellent tool for lowering them all the way inside and gently, slowly pulling along the top edge and dislodging the bees to land inside and take a gander. This kind of work takes a lot of patience, gathering feather after feather-full of honeybees, but it was exactly what I wanted to be doing, the present moment showing you just what needs to be done, and willingly facing the duty with honor, openness and love for these creatures which you are doing it for.


Once I had introduced most of that cluster on the outside to their new hive entrance, I again, met the Queen, down in the depths with just a few about her. She was buzzing rapidly, making a whirring, frantic sort of sound and flying from side to side. I again, collected her and introduced her to the new entrance, to which she was obliged. 


Making my way back into the house for the final few hours of daylight, I tackled that room, a mass of bees clustered on the window, up high beneath a ledge inside of a row of Venetian blinds. I made a new, separate box to put these girls into. It was my medium super, which is pretty shallow. I taped a screen onto the bottom of it and made a cardboard lid to fit over top, since the bees like darkness and need to generate a lot of heat within the hive. It also served well later, when I got them home, to put near the others in the main hive, so they could still smell the Queen and know all hope was not lost!


I decided to clear the tarp first, collecting bees by the feather-full, sometimes just one or two at a time, but I knew that if I was going to be working around the window area, I'd want to know I wasn't stepping on and smashing bees on the ground. There weren't a ton down there, but definitely a few stragglers. And the ones who had fallen and exposed themselves to sawdust and the like were probably faring the worst of the lot. I wanted to give them all a fighting chance and it seemed that the ones who really wanted to hop aboard that "life-raft" of a feather, clung for dear life and appreciated the help, and were very cooperative with my collecting. It was the ones higher up, crawling up the window that still had plenty of "umph" left in 'em, who were less willing to climb onto the feather and refused to stay contained within the box. I can say now that honeybees are of one mind, but they certainly do have a mind of their own and they each have their very own unique personalities as well.

Wesley and his family watched on as I toiled, and we talked and little by little, I got most of the bees into their hive and separate box and I cleared out the space, collecting any surely dead bees that remained on the ground. I proposed a mini-impromptu bee memorial and burial service for their remains. Wesley, his wife and small daughter, Emily, and I, gathered beneath a tree at sundown and we buried the bees, said a few words and wished well the surviving colony and that the lineage of these bees lives on! 


I waited until the sun had fully cleared the horizon and no newly returning foragers or scouts were coming back. Wesley said I had gotten a lot more than most people would've waited for, but I feel responsible if I'm going to take them, I need to really try to get them all. If any are left behind, they don't survive without their colony. I think he learned a lot about bees and he requested honey when I get some, which may not be until next summer, given that they're just now basically getting established, this late in the year. Russians are know for overwintering well because they do not eat all their stores up quickly, unlike the Italian honeybees, but it's recommended in this type of climate, to leave them about 70 pounds worth of honey to feed on over the winter.


The drive home was smooth, quiet and graceful. Once I arrived, Aeython helped me carry the bigger, cumbersome, main hive down onto its stand by the big Doug Fir tree. We turned on our outside lights so we could see as we meandered through the garden paths and wonky steps. We got the other medium super of bees and the top cover down there into place as well and I ratchet-strapped it down onto the hive stand. I wished them a good night and set my alarm for the next morning, same time, 5:45a.m. 


I woke up like a kid on Christmas day, honestly, I was really looking forward to getting out there and introducing them to their new home. They had been screened in all night, and I'm sure were antsy to get out, so I was out there to start smudging them and open things up a little after 6:30am. 

The sad state of affairs the following morning, but soon to  be
liberated and able to develop their
organizational excellence,
once again!

It was a bit awkward, honestly, a bit of a tussle, trying to figure out heads from tails with the screening and what to remove first, where to put the tape, so many details that you don't know until you "get there." I felt extremely clumsy and knew, this is what it is to be a beginner, to jump in head first and learn first hand, what to do and what not to do. So, my heart redirected my thoughts to the most important objective, getting everyone safely into or at least at the hive entrance, who may have fallen onto the ground, or who seems paralyzed or may be barbed-leg-connected to the screening, but is clearly still alive, albeit pretty traumatized. It took a while to scour every surface around the hive for fallen bees who might appreciate a lift. It was a slightly overcast, drizzly morning, not the kind of weather you want to be doing this kind of operation, but it had to be done. There were more casualties, in opening up the boxes, of course. Some hadn't made it through their rough day and night of transit and re-location. What I didn't collect from the site, the "undertakers" carried away. I watched them the next day, removing big larvae, somewhat awkward to hold beneath them as they flew it away. 

The new Russian bee babes!

I planted flowers in pockets around their hive, some to hopefully ward off ants or other pests wishing to steal a little honeycomb snack. I definitely got the message when I felt I had basically wore out my welcome in their area. We were blessed with some pretty nice weather, warmish and dry, but overcast with intermittent sun-breaks. It was perfect seeding weather, and nice enough for them to get started with rebuilding their stores, getting some nectar or some pollen, learning to navigate their area, etc.
But I recalled hearing how most beginners always make the mistake of spending too much time, hovering over their new bees, or opening up the hive to peek right after they're in their new location.
I decided to give them a rest and not be intrusive at all, just watering in seeds, for at least a week, which it's been now. I'm hoping to open it up tomorrow or in the next couple of days.

Little black bee butts, coming and going!

No one has been stung yet. I occasionally will eat meals out there along the rock wall, 10 feet or so away from the hive, watching their comings and goings. I introduced my friend Tara, with her two tiny kids and later, Wes, to them yesterday and Fred's little neice and nephew and twin brother to them today. So far, I'm more worried about people stepping in my flower beds near the bees rather than anything to do with the bees themselves. ;p

Glowing in the early morning light!

I will finish with this note. At a moment of trying to help bees into their new home from the ground, or off of a mesh screen, I believe I hit bliss. I basked in a moment of wonder, gratitude and awe for what the bees were teaching me, in their own, subtle and slow way. They cling to one another in times of woe, preening each others' faces. They have no trouble asking for assistance or communicating their needs. One bee is stuck in a potentially fatal position, they buzz a high pitched call, indicating, "all is not well with me, here!" They are quite adorable, amicable and have completely stolen my heart. I will never be the same as I was before these sweet, little creatures entered my life!

A lovely profile shot of a beautiful girl, indeed!
Notice how the females have such pointy, shapely features
and a voluptuous figure,
as opposed to the squarish and blunt-ended,
big-eyed drones, which I only saw a couple of in the
whole fiasco! 

Weather Warms, Bees Swarm

To the uninformed onlooker of honeybee swarms, it appears that a mass of chaotic mayhem has struck; black disarray clouds the once peaceful skies. It stirs the soul in ways that inspire fear of unknowns, but rest assured, that is all from our limited perception of this natural occurrence.

Apis mellifera, the fancy latin term for our Western or European honeybees, are a gentle sort, given a worse than reputable reputation due to the confusion between them and aggressive hymenoptera such as Africanized bees (nearly unheard of inhabiting our Northern climates) or yellow jackets, which are definitely not even bees. Because of movies like, "Attack of the Killer Bees" or experience being bitten and stung by other flying insects, honeybees have taken the brunt of this confusion, much to my saddened disdain. In one search in my research this morning to accompany my explanation of swarming behaviors, I was shocked and disgusted to see at the top of Google's search results in the colored box of paid subscribers, ads toting services to rid fearful  folks of these benevolent creatures with web addresses like "stopbuggingmenow.com." Ick!!! The poor babes. :(...........

                                                     Consider this: Bee Venom Therapy

I just had a similar interaction with a friend's 14 year old daughter who claims that she, "hates bees!" I tried my best to gently enlighten her that not all "bees" are created equal and what she lumped together into the category of bees were most likely the all too familiar yellow jackets, which actually are quite aggressive and vicious. These predators are the ones buzzing around your food in late summer, taking chunks out of your skin and even robbing honeybees for honey, biting off the heads of the wee pupae and newly emerging young honeybees. I have just recently learned that it is during the early Spring when only the yellow jacket queens are out and about and if you're able to set up a purchased or easy DIY yellow jacket trap early on, you can decrease their numbers significantly before the others have been laid and hatched. Apparently they prefer meat early in the season, then sweet (such as orange soda) later on. I have yet to make one of these simple contraptions with a plastic bottle, but it is on my list of things to do and I'd better hurry it up!

How to Make Your Own Yellow Jacket Trap

The above link should help, but I would suggest either the meat or the orange soda for bait since the sugar solution is more likely to also trap honeybees and we need as many of them as we can get!!!
Why? Think on this: over 1/3 (I think possibly even more) of the foods that you and I consume are made possible by the pollination of honeybees.

Now that we're clear on the difference between various flying insects in the order of hymenoptera, let's return to our original topic of swarms, shall we?

Honeybees operate under something likened to "collective consciousness," perhaps a deeper reason why I've become so enamored with them. They have a "hive mentality," so very unlike we humans who often struggle just to work together, even among our family and friends at times. Where we tend to think like, "everyone for themselves," and strive to "get ahead," in this "dog eat dog," world, the honeybee knows instinctively that it is part of a unified group, working together toward the same goal and that it cannot survive alone for long.

At the center of their organizational excellence, is the infamous "Queen Bee," who they follow, feed exclusively a special food called "royal jelly,"during her development and onward, which is what allows her to become sexual mature and able to reproduce. The worker bees (females) all come from fertilized eggs, while the drones (males) are from unfertilized eggs. These poor buggers are haploid and contain only 1/2 a full set of chromosomes (as opposed to we diploid humans & most other animals), rendering them sex slaves, in essence. They are unable to do much of anything other than provide sperm for the queens, meaning they actually get the boot at the end of the season for overwintering time when workers cannot spare extra food stores or energy feeding and cleaning up after them. They have no defenses, or stinger, and their numbers are generally much fewer. In fact, if the number of drones exceeds 15% in relation to workers, they either get stung and killed, or forced out, as they are too much of a tax on the hive.

A honeybee drone
Notice how large his eyes are to assist in locating the queen during  the marriage flight.
Their abdomens are also square and blunt on the end,
a cute, harmless little bugger! ;)

The Queen is not the dictatorial version of Alice in Wonderland's Red Queen, ordering, "Off with their heads!" She instead emits her own unique queen pheromone, which apparently smells akin to lemongrass. The scent, however, is not activated until she becomes a mated queen. Despite the queen cell being altogether different from worker and drone cells (resembling a peanut that hangs off in a vertical fashion from the bottom edge of the frame) , and the feeding her exclusively royal jelly, when she hatches, she is not acknowledged as the queen and is mostly ignored by the fellow females until after being mated. She is more active and makes a strange, "Eh, eh, eh, egh, EGH!" sound (a.k.a. "piping") while still a virgin queen. It's almost as if she gets more pent up as she readies herself for the marriage flight. Hardly like a marriage at all, this copulating process is pretty brutal as far as the drones are concerned, but hey, once they mate, their purpose in life has been served.

The marriage, or mating, flight happens once the queen is fully ready and it's generally the only time, aside from swarming, when she exits the hive. Somehow, the drones are cued in to this special time and they all meet at a certain, drone congregation area, which my teacher, Jacqueline, says they have "told" her through a type of bee telepathy is called a "scarp." These areas consist of several thousand drones from surrounding colonies occurring anywhere from 30-200 meters wide and 15-40 meters above ground. For us laymen Americans, that's over 98-656 feet wide by 49-131 feet high! This happens on a warm, sunny, summer day, the drones congregating about an hour prior to the queen making her take off, straight up through the "scarp," and a conical swarm of drones following to get a chance to mate with her. Her fortunate suitors that manage to copulate with her, have a barbed phallus (as opposed to a sting), which rips off inside of her (much like a sting), and he falls from the air to his imminent death. The next drone comes along, and mid-air, removes the previous drone's phallus with his front legs allowing entry for himself to make his own contribution. This repeats with multiple drones until she has mated with 12-15 of them and accumulated a "semen soup," within her spermatheca, a little treasure receptacle which contains this mixture and miraculously can keep it preserved to lay fertilized eggs (producing workers) for the rest of her 2-7 year lifespan. Once she has carried out her own duties in this lovely, but brutal, mating ritual, she returns to the hive and it is only then, that the other female worker bees officially, "bow down," and revere her as the center of their functions. Something in her pheromones shifts and suddenly, the queen is protected and respected as the primary "mother," of the future brood and existing colony. In fact, once she goes into full on egg-laying mode, at the peak of summer, she's laying 1,500-2,000 eggs per day!!! That's up to or just over her own body weight laid each day and up to a million in her whole lifetime! An amazing feat, if you ask me.

A queen cell, resembling a peanut;
much larger, hanging off an existing edge of comb in
a vertical fashion

In her second year of queen-hood, she seems to be programmed to cast a prime swarm, the first swarm, which consists of 60-70% of the hive, including herself. She has made necessary preparations for the remaining members of the original colony who are left behind, usually due to their young age and inexperience leaving the hive, by laying up to 21 queen cells for a process called supercedure. This allows the chance for at least 1 queen to survive against all odds, should she be lost, killed, or somehow die en route during her mating flight. The 1st emergent virgin queen, will then sting and kill all of the other developing queen pupae, taking the role of sovereignty for herself. If more than one emerge at once, they essentially "duke it out," and whoever wins the battle of stinging, now reigns as the new queen. That being said, queens are the only bee within the hive capable of stinging multiple times without dying. This is highly unlikely to ever be a threat to humans, however, as the queen is a shy sort who really prefers to hide in dark, obscure places and rarely lets herself even be seen by us. Some wasps and surely yellow jackets are also geared with this repetitive stinging advantage, another reason why so many are understandably, but ignorantly, frightened by ALL wee, striped, winged creatures. Honeybee workers are generally the only type that we see, foraging on our flowers, and they tend to be docile and non-threatening, focused on their work, gathering nectar and pollen, unless alarmed, threatened or brushed off of you, which they instinctively perceive as a threat. If a honeybee has landed on you, try not to react, wait patiently, and usually before long, she will lose interest and fly off about her business. If they buzz near your face, never wave your hand around to try and shoo them away. Instead, turn the other direction and slowly just walk away, giving them ample time and space to realize, you are no threat.

When the weather perks up and has been dry and sunny for at least about three days, everyone is prepared with full bellies of honey and aware of exactly when the swarming is due to take place. Scout bees have been on the lookout for the previous few days, finding a temporary landing site and also a new, permanent home. They are ready to survive without leaving this cluster to forage for at least three days, so when temporary lit upon a branch or a fence post, they are full of honey, without a home or brood to defend and are at their most docile ever. The swarming usually occurs around high noon or shortly thereafter and begin pouring out of the original hive. The queen's brood-laying cycle is disrupted a few days before, something that also probably signals that a swarm is soon to occur. Swarms can happen for a few different reasons: one of them being a lack of space in the current hive, another can be an indication of a queen reaching the end of her life-cycle. Whatever the reason, swarming is a honeybee's natural way of reproduction and is completely normal for them. It is typical bee behavior to occasionally swarm and therefore, should really be supported and encouraged. The one colony will divide into two, and more queen cells laid in their new home if the old queen is nearing the end of her life cycle. It is really only our own selfish human agendas and the inception of commercial beekeeping which wishes to counter this notion and even goes so far as to destroy and kill new queen, swarm, or supercedure cells to prevent it. In order to keep bee populations on the rise and prevent the extreme decline they are now facing, we really need to rethink our methods of beekeeping in a much more natural and friendly manner.

I am currently on a swarm list to get called if there is a swarm in my area. I am awaiting the warmer weather so that I can inhabit my new hive with local, native bees, who will have a greater resistance to the damp, rainy and cool climate of the Pacific Northwest and are also from a diverse array of genetic stock. Most people probably don't even realize that packaged bees are available for sale, which generally get shipped by the US Postal Service, from one of just a few different suppliers. They rear them by means of artificial insemination in warmer climates like in California or in the deep South. This eliminates their natural reproductive "marriage flight," and also means that mated queens are inseminated with the semen of just one drone, as opposed to 12-15. To me, it is the business of inbreeding and takes away their right to a natural selection process that is so beautiful, unique and sadly, becoming more rare. During the mating flights, it is only the fastest, strongest, most perseverant drones who are able to mate with the queen at all. This ensures she will carry the highest quality mixture of semen with which to lay eggs with for the rest of her life. Better drones, better semen, better eggs, better bees. 'Nuf said.

What's in a Name?

When I moved into Fred's place, sight-unseen, mind you, I was tickled and astounded to discover the back yard, which extends into a natural park area hosting Stephen's Creek. The place screamed, “Work with me! I have SO much potential for infinite beauty!” I felt I had moved into a place not unlike “The Secret Garden,” which I am 2/3rds into watching with my sweetheart, actually. We're watching the vintage (original?) English version and Aeython finds it to be incredibly dry, slow and predictable, but it's the principle of the thing. A classic worth revisiting in my own personal opinion.

Sproutling baby choys rising their wee, green heads from the mushroom  compost!

But back to the garden! The house is perched up near the top of the hill and out back, there are tiered garden beds of various sizes and lengths, created a bit haphazardly with some rocky chunks of broken up concrete. It's clear to me now that the previous owner's M.O. was based on economy, practicality and little to no maintenance required, whatsoever. As we begin to clear spaces for growing food, this becomes more and more readily apparent with our succession of discoveries. There have been a few pleasant surprises, however. Aeython has revealed many of these special finds, which include:

a “throne” seat made from some large, smooth concrete slabs, tucked into a nook on the lower-most tier, which faces out toward the rest of the garden and park, a set of small, gradual steps leading to a tier that was previously not very accessible by comfortable means, which had been shrouded in a flowering ground-cover, a bumblebee's nest tucked into the concrete chunks on a tier equally engulfed in ivy, as well as a garter snake's den in a similar fashion on an opposite tier.

A view of our house from below. Aeython chopped an invasive tree that  grew up beneath the shed.
Now that it's all exposed, I'm planning to make some Mason Bee houses using cut bamboo tubes and
mount them onto the beams below, offering them a nice sheltered spot. :D

                                                       

The name for this blog came to me while trying to rip out a nasty, black, plastic weed-block cloth, which has long since failed to serve its purpose. It was a typical, overcast and drizzly day in Portland and my attempts were centered around clearing an area to create the bee yard. Knowing that the weeds will only grow taller with every passing day, I couldn't very well just leave it as is, blocking the entrances to my future hives. As well, we're trying to utilize every possible space for growing food or bee forage and the weed-block absolutely, HAD TO GO!

The cleared tier from above. The throne is situated just to the left of the bamboo in the corner.
The dark, mulched blueberry, tea and flower tier leads to the beehive against the Doug Fir.

This was no easy task, as plenty of soil had spilled into that lower-most tier, providing a growing medium for the abundance of weeds. Their root systems were developed, growing down and gripping onto the weed-block with ferocity. Worst of all, was that the previous owners had embedded the cloth beneath the concrete slab walls of the tiers. I employed scissors, I ripped, I tore, I pulled and pulled with all my might, hoping I wouldn't tear myself in the process and created a weed sod sculpture or abominable "weed man" by stacking the stuff higher and higher along one corner of the tier.

Beneath all this, was free and clear, very compacted, nutrient and moisture deficient soil. The only aeration being offered was by tunnels bored into it (somehow) by moles or shrews. But the dirt had finally been liberated! After Gawd only knows how many years!!! Success!

This process did not take me a day, however, it spanned the length of several days, with days in between to heal my general aches and overly worked hands. It was an annoying task, but one with near immediate gratification and immense eventual payoff. Aeython has helped clear other areas and suggested we use the weed-block to drape over our weed sod piles to cook it down into a rich compost.

Some of it is also covering areas of grass, which we hope to stamp out for more crops.

Repurposing the weed-block to kill itchy, weed-infested grass for more growing space.
We plan to utilize the large tree stump there for a mushroom cultivation project by drilling
holes into it and impregnating it with some spores in a sterilized substrate such as alfalfa straw.
I'm growing my own culinary oyster mushrooms now from a large ziplock baggie on a plate up on the balcony.
We've gotten two full fruitings from it since I took the class at People's Food Co-op in March,
adding a lovely taste and texture to our delicious sautées.

The next step for this large tier in question, was to till it somehow, so he had Fred help him with the use of a certain hand-held rototilling machine, powered by an unknown gas mixture, which apparently is very loud, difficult to use and probably only loosened up the top few inches of soil. But it's a start, nonetheless, and will help us incorporate nutrients back into the top layer, and allow us to plant some covercrops, namely Buckwheat, Barley and Fenugreek.

Since the task is going to be a process that takes time and care, and because I learned that bees prefer high locations for their hives, I went with placing the first hive on the next tier up. It is appropriately protected on at least 3 sides, by a large Doug Fir tree, the neighbors' fence and the next tier up, hosting a large yucca plant, one of 3 that we decided to leave in place at the far end of the tier, even though it isn't native. Fred built me a good, sturdy stand for the hive to be lifted at least a foot off the ground, another bee-requisite.

A pic of the large, tilled tier from below.
The little paths will be our walkways between garden beds.

I assembled the hive supers (boxes) and frames from purchased wood parts and painted the outside of it a beautiful sage green with an exterior latex paint. This entailed gluing the dove-tail joints on the corners of the boxes with a wood glue and hammering in galvanized, exterior-worthy nails. Fred helped me with drilling the pilot holes using his drill press. I think he enjoyed it and I was grateful for the help.

The frames were similarly glued and nailed with smaller nails and once dry and complete, I snapped in the foundation, a plastic sheet embossed with the hexagonal comb pattern and coated with a thin layer of beeswax, indicating to the bees, draw this comb out, please. The roof was a fun project as well, though already pre-constructed.

I went with an eved, copper roof, not only because it looks amazing and is a welcome addition to the garden, resembling a quaint, little house rather than a flat-topped box, but because in the Pacific Northwest, it rains, A LOT, and if there's one thing that bees have trouble regulating it's moisture within the hive. They have special tricks for cooling the hive if it gets too hot by fanning their wings rapidly at the entrance, facing in, butts high and drawing the warm air out. This process is also employed as a way of reducing the water-content in the honey to make it the perfect 17% water, allowing it to keep indefinitely and not ferment. This takes a great deal of work on their parts, so the higher, sloped roof adds more space at the top for air flow and ventilation.

Fred was understandably worried about copper being exposed to vagrants wandering through the park, who may get the hair-brained idea of lifting it for some quick cash. I also saw the problem this posed and did my best to reassure him that I would take precautionary measures to deter theft, whether it be signage indicating, “Bees at Work,” or heavy chains and locks all the way around the hive. Another threat of the roof lifting off the hive is posed by heavy winds, so rather than go crazy with more metal, and necessity to use what I have, I opted for rachet-strapping the whole thing to the hive stand. I have yet to install my other precautionary measure of sledging two T-stakes into the ground on either side, eliminating the risk of it toppling over.

The fun part of the endeavor was painting the copper roof with Liver of Sulphur, a metal oxidizing solution which I've used for years in jewelry making. I painted it with some organic, abstract and not so abstract designs using a potent batch of the stuff and it seems to disquise the copper a bit, blending in a bit better with the surroundings. It also already appears to be turning slightly greenish in places, a patina I have always admired on copper.

I cleared the entire tier of weeds leading to the hive, which is also home to two Blueberry bushes of Fred's, two new Tea plants of Aeythons, our second, smaller Fuchsia bush, which lives on an adorable “mini-tier” of its own, and hopefully an abundance of various bee-loving flowers, which I planted seeds for all over the place after spreading a layer of mushroom mulch to revive the soil.

Now, I await my bees. But more on the details of this exciting, swarm-collecting adventure soon!!!

Fledgling Quinoa sprouts we hope to grow from 6 cm to 6 ft!

Humble Beginnings

Ahhh, the early days.........Yes, it seems our seasons are delayed somewhat, here in Portland, Oregon. Not that I didn't start back in early March, but since then, we had a record-breaking May with over 10 days in a row approaching 90 degrees, a welcome change to the cloud-covered, rainy and windy, long seasons that we're all too familiar with here in the Northwest. Aside from that one warm spell, the weather has held itself at bay, allowing us to plant things now that we should've started back in March.


My plight to grow an abundantly large garden this year began for a couple of reasons. One, was that I started to entertain the idea of keeping bees, something I've held in a treasured pocket of my heart for the past couple of years, since watching the documentary, "Queen of the Sun," created by a fellow Portlander. Two, was that I started growing Kale and Basil last year and my Kale has continued to feed us (and the bees) throughout the year, winter, and now sports 1/2" thick stalks, which I've recently had to cut down low to prevent from toppling over onto other garden ornamentals. It will continue to proliferate, even from these stumps, shooting off new leaves from the nodes along the stem. These suckers can handle frost, hail storms (which we had several of) and are so nearly invincible that I highly recommend beginners, especially in a consistently cool and wet climate such as this one, start with this leafy green sea vegetable.  


When you grow anything from seed, it is quite a noble effort on your part. There is great deal of hope, mystery and wonder stirring within you as you embed the tiny beads of promise into the best soil you can provide. Each one has the potential to grow large and towering, often multiplying itself into many more "babies." But will it sprout? That is the number one question. Then, if it does, will your light source and watering method be adequate to produce healthy, bushy plants, or will they be long, spindly and leggy? Will they suffer the dreaded "dampening off" disease they are susceptible to in those early stages if not drying properly between waterings? Some plants seem to suck up moisture efficiently, making the watering an almost constant task, while others seem to let the water sit, generating much concern on your part, as their dedicated caretaker. 


At the beginning of the season, I began to utilize the services of my local library, searching for books on beekeeping and placing holds for up to 15 at a time. As I cozied up on the couch and read, I felt daunted by how much I didn't know about the subject and professed that I would use this year to learn about beekeeping and focus more on cultivating a large garden for them to forage on and pollinate the following year. This changed after reading a couple of books and realizing that, once a hive is set up, the colony of bees is relatively low maintenance, up until the time of honey extraction, when their work and your own, really pays off. I also found out, that in their first year of getting established in their new home, honey extraction may not be appropriate anyway, as it's recommended that one leave at least 70 pounds of honey for them to feed on over the winter. 


I found out about a place here in North Portland called "Livingscape," a nursery that offers beekeeping, gardening and chicken raising classes, as well as the necessary constituents for all of these endeavors. I began with their free Vegetable Gardening 101 class and successively took their classes on beekeeping and chickens. In the beekeeping class, we ventured out to the 3 hives they have set up in a corner of the nursery and I was able to hold a frame full of honeybees with a metal, frame-holding clamp, with my bare hands in a T-shirt and flip-flops. They were busy and docile, except for 1 guard bee that buzzed back and forth in front of the teacher's face to determine whether he was posing any threat to the hive, and no one got stung. With my new-found knowledge and experience, I felt ready to take it on fully, not next year, but this one. 


I began fantasizing about where I would place the hive, in my large, tiered backyard, complete with many surrounding trees, a neighboring park, and the prerequisite East or Southeast facing orientation. I wanted to plant at least one larger tree about 15 feet beyond the future hive's entrance, creating an obstacle that would force the bees' flight paths upward rather than straight into the park's walking trails at a lower angle. 


The blessing came, just before Earth Day, when I happened across an email post through the Sacred Circle Dance's email list, which infiltrates my inbox profusely on a daily basis and tends to be more of a source of annoyance than a welcome discovery, such as the following:


"Annual Bare Root Tree Giveaway!" What? 
A farm up North was offering the dancers to come and rescue 100s of bare root trees, mostly unlabeled dwarf fruit trees, or "mystery" trees from their imminent death of being burned! I couldn't pass up this opportunity, so I quickly rallied to find someone with a truck who could help me go and collect some. 

I was able to recruit the help of a dear friend of a friend, Sami, who has a small pick-up. I had planned to go up with her, but in a moment of her not getting a hold of me, she went up by herself and got as many as she could fit into the truck bed. She came back South to deliver the bounty. On the phone she had said she got maybe ten trees. We tried to negotiate how many she'd give me and how many she wanted to take home, thinking it'd be about 4 to her, 6 to me. She was being very generous, seeing as how she went to get them by herself, but secretly, I'd hoped for more. Once she arrived and we started to unload them into some buckets of water, it became apparent that she'd underestimated the quantity of trees, by a lot! It was a quick drop-off because she needed to get her 4 trees home to plant in the ground. One or two of what she decided to keep were weeping willows, which she was gifting her dad for his birthday, a sweet gift indeed. When I thanked her profusely and apologized for not being available when she'd called, she said that it was fine, that she had wanted to go and get them to have this gift for her dad, and that the farm was beautiful, everything she hoped to create herself one day.


I spent the following two days, digging holes and planting the cute little trees all around the property, mostly down below the garden tiers in a larger area that I believe used to be an orchard at one time and fits the bill perfectly for that purpose. The remaining several trees were planted throughout the much smaller, front yard, offering it quite a bit of quaint appeal. I didn't count how many trees I had total until they were all planted, and was amazed to discover that I had 19 in the back "orchard" and 10 out front, totaling 29 trees, the same as the age I currently am, and have enjoyed living as a human on this beautiful planet, Earth. What a joy! My desires were manifested in such a fluid and lovely way, I can only call it grace. 


On darker days in the beginning, from March onward, I would prepare for Spring down in the basement beside a little makeshift crib converted into a seedling growing area with florescent tube lights and a timer. I rifled through the garage for old seed packets of my housemate, Fred's, even finding some that he claims were left here by the previous owners of the house. Dating back as far as 6 years, to 2006, were seed packets of various flowers that I would probably never grow otherwise: Carnations, Hollyhocks, Chinese Lanterns and some basic veggies like: Carrots, Radishes, Cucumbers and Tomatoes. None of the veggies were Organic or Heirloom, which would be my preference, but I had what I had and they needed to be used, so I began planting. I found a few old, disheveled seedling cell trays and thoroughly cleaned them, disinfecting with a 2.5 ph water as opposed to the recommended diluted bleach solution. I found old bio pots, remaining from last year"s tomatoes that Fred grew, sprayed them as well and planted the 3 remaining Lupine seeds from a very old seed packet, each of which had to be nicked with knife at the pointed end of the seed. I found two old packets of seeds my mom had sent which were equally expired of Snapdragons and Flowering Kale. The Flowering Kale seeds were literally the sweepings off the seed packing room floor, as I came to read about later, resembling crushed, flaky bits of something, rather than the nice glowing round brown or black Kale seeds I'd seen before.


Even more fun than my random old seed packet discoveries, which I tried planting ALL of, regardless of age or appearance, was the Earth-friendly reusing of random materials to plant these little pearls into.
A book I was reading on "Living Sustainably in the 21st Century," sparked the idea with it's suggestion to cut up old cardboard tubing from toilet paper and paper towel rolls, making perfect little bio-pots. I think their method just involved squeezing as many as possible onto a tray and filling them with the soil or seedling mix and leaving the bottoms open-ended. I preferred to keep them contained, so I also used the tissue paper that the TP was wrapped in, tearing or cutting it into a few squares and wrapped it around the base, then securing it with a thin little rubber band. This continued into reusing paper coffee cups, either sample-sized or normal ones cut down by about 1/2, or left whole, like in the case with my tomato seedlings, which I wanted to give more room. I also used empty tea boxes, the lid folded into one side and lined them with a paper towel to prevent seepage of my growing medium out the slits at the bottom. I used black #6 plastic dip cups I'd saved from "Baja Fresh" for some crafting organization or small amounts of leftover sauces and dressings and punctured holes in the bottom, planting them with Basil. I used another #6 (unrecyclable) black plastic rectangular box tray from mushrooms, or the like, for cucumbers. To my delight and surprise, many of these several year old seeds came through, unfurling silken pale green stems and emergent dark green seed leaves. The Flowering Kale sweepings, however, never did anything, so I reseeded the tray with my own Russian White Kale of this year's seeds. 


Aeython (my beloved Partner) and I went to Portland Nursery, buying Wildflower Mixes, Beneficial Bug Mixes, Kale, Lemongrass, Basil, Amaranth, Buckwheat and Passionflower. Our humble beginnings of just those few have since grown into a collection of much more, including a LOT more edibles as well as a plethora of bee-loving flowers. But before I get ahead of myself, being tempted to list all of the things I hope to grow this year, let me take a moment to talk about soil. 


The complexities of soil seemed far beyond my fathomable grasp, at first, making me wonder if I needed a soil thermometer or a PH reader for determining the ideal planting conditions. As far as soil amendments go, I was lost, but luckily, Fred has been frequenting a particular outfit for Mushroom Compost over the years and has a trailer for hauling large amounts of it home. The much neglected beds which had veggies growing in them last year, which make up the top tier and is flush with the ground level, were in need of some serious love and TLC. 


Aeython works produce at New Season's Market, and was able to bring home flattened cardboard boxes from Organic produce for us to do a "sheet-mulching" technique, which stamps out pretty much all weeds from piercing the surface and also encourages earthworms, which LOVE the cardboard. We started with the largest garden bed, which is next to a patch of lawn by the driveway that I keep drawing out to accommodate more garden and less grass. After covering the area completely with the cardboard (removing any tape or staples), overlapping areas with holes, we shoveled mushroom compost from the trailer bed into a wheelbarrow and onto the cardboard, spreading it out evenly. We worked around the two rows of Kale (and a few surviving beets) in the the other bed adjacent to the large one, doing the same technique, or just adding compost around the plants. Another, much needed blessing came, when a friend of ours offered us some great potting soil, complete with many bits of Pearlite and Terracotta balls, left over from one of his gardening ventures. It gave our richly alive and active compost airiness and grip for newly forming roots to cling to. 


My first direct seeding adventure was with the Buckwheat, something that fixes Nitrogen into the soil, which we are desperately lacking here in clay-laden western Oregon. Not only that, but bees love the flowers and it can be tilled back into the earth once ready to plant crops. Fred saw me seeding it directly into the compost before we had gotten the extra potting soil from our friend and doubted that it would grow just in the mushroom compost. I seeded the bed anyhow and hoped for the best, but expecting nothing. A week or two after laying down the potting soil as well, I saw my first emerging seedlings, a few broad, rounded seed leaves of a slightly yellowy color atop of reddish pink stems. Though just a cover crop, I was so excited and it fueled my fire to start more seedlings indoors in the crib to move outdoors eventually, once it was warm enough and they had grown beyond their carrying capacity. 


The next couple of months, I doted on my seedlings, checking them several times a day, watering once or twice by misting with a spray bottle. I'd find myself jumping up out of bed in the morning, having had the seedlings infiltrate my dreamy subconscious throughout the night, my "head" in the soil, inspecting their root systems developing underground, rather than on the pillow. I planted more seeds, day and night, making more time to do that than whatever it was I was "supposed" to be doing (i.e. making jewelry). Before very long, I realized, I was hooked. All I could think of or do involved my plant ventures and I determined that, I want to be a farmer. 


After pumping that spray-bottle 1001 times, I began to feel the telltale signs of carpal tunnel, numbness and tingling creeping into my hands often, which frightened me tremendously. Immediately, I went to the nearest hardware store, A-Boy, where I purchased a 1 gallon spray mister, the kind many people use to mix and administer their nasty toxic chemical-laden herbicides, pesticides or fertilizers. It helped, but made me realize that I need to back off a little too and try to rest when my body signals to. More book reading and yoga, a little less cleaning and weeding. 


If there's anything to be learned from the experience of farming and gardening, it's that you have to take things in stride, accept that there will be much experimentation, discovery, revision, patience and even disappointments involved. There will be set-backs and we are in some ways at the mercy of the weather. All we can do is try to flow with it and make the best decisions based on the ever changing circumstances and conditions given. 


So, I will leave you with that to ponder and integrate into whatever endeavors you fancy, or even simply living and being. 

Me clearing a bed out front by the road, which was being overtaken by grass.
I have since planted a variety of Sunflowers, Rudbeckia (Black-Eyed Susans),
Jupiter's Beard, Antique Flemish Poppies, Oriental Poppies, and Pinwheel Marigolds