This weekend we had our first bee-keeping catastrophe. When I went in to manage the hive, which I must say is going gangbusters these days, I had some trouble pulling out the very first (well, the very last, actually–the farthest from the hive entrance) paddle of comb. I attempted, as I was taught, to dislodge the paddle from the sides of the hive where the bees had attached the comb with a substance called propolis in order to control the temperature in the hive. However, this being the last bar the bees had built on, they had started to cross build from one comb to another. And, as I pulled gently upwards on the bar, most of the comb on that paddle broke loose and fell with a sticky thud to the hive floor.
Panic ensued among bees and beekeeper alike, and it was all any of us could do to keep from diving headlong into the precious amber liquid that oozed from the smashed-up comb. After a barrage of profanities, I took a moment to gather my thoughts and grabbed the stock pot and a colander out of my kitchen. At first, I attempted in vain to pull out the ruins in one gooey lump with the hive tool I use to separate the bars from each other. That’s when I learned how fragile honey-filled comb actually is. Left with no other options, I went back into the hive, this time with nothing more than my heavily gloved hands, and retrieved five or six sections of syrupy comb, stuck to which were dozens of honey-drunk bees, drowning in the most blissful way in the very stuff that sustains them.
With bee brush and table fork, I swept away and plucked out (ever so carefully) each bee, one by one, diligently working to rescue the victims of this not-so-natural disaster. Many of them, after excessive “cleanings” from their comrades, went on to fly another day. Some, woefully, did not. A few others lost their lives defending the hive against the terror of my impenetrable leather gloves.
To look at a colony of tens of thousands and mourn the death of a mere few may seem silly, but after watching those tens of thousands of individuals work tirelessly and inexplicably in concert for the benefit of their society, each performing their prescribed duty in order to serve the whole, it is disheartening to see even one of them die before her time. Still, to be fair, the occasional bee death is a very real part of keeping bees for honey, and the silver lining of this tragedy was the early harvest of some of the most exquisite honey I’ve ever tasted. Really. It’s amazingly good.
In all the excitement and stickiness, I didn’t think to take photos of the honey extraction, which, after the removal of the bees, was pretty much just a matter of squeezing. If you’re in the neighborhood, though, I’d be more than happy to give you a small sampling. In lieu of my usual photos, I’m including with this blogpost a quick fun fact about honeybees with video link and all. Enjoy…
Backyard fun fact #1: Bees like to dance. They also know calculus. In fact, forager bees use these two seemingly divergent skill sets to communicate with one another about the exact direction and distance of a pollen source. I’ve seen the dance for myself. Now you can, too! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jc-mtUs-eis&feature=fvwrel Fascinating stuff, right? If you want to see how scientists prove this method of communication, go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywdTfEBVcSY&feature=related
Mmmm. Hunny.
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talesofabackyardfarmer 
Nice imagery — sounds like an episode of “I Love Lucy.” Glad to hear that you’re actually getting honey out of your hive. Hope you didn’t get stung!
Comment by Catherine June 29, 2011 @ 1:45 pmWow. That’s some crazy drama! Can’t wait to have a taste of that honey…
Comment by jonathan July 4, 2011 @ 9:18 pm