To bee
Two weeks ago, we went to our first night of Bee School. What we learned about bee habits and feeding had us wondering whether, with our wooded property, we were a good candidate for a bee hive. After a site visit from Andy (one of the instructors) and a canvas of our holly tree population (bees love holly), we determined that we shouldn’t get a hive – we should get two.
Two hives means twice the chance for a successful colony. It means being able to compare hive behavior and habits. It’s means twice as much honey. The only downside is the money.
I have provided insect housing before, but this is the first time it has cost me. I’ve certainly paid to get rid of them, but never to put them up in the first place. They’ve come, of their own accord, to live in my pipes, or my collard greens, or my corn flakes.
Bees, though, aren’t content with stale cereal or household crevices. They need a hive, and hives are expensive. With the boxes, the frames, and the accoutrements, you’re looking at $250. per hive, easy. And that’s without the bees! You wouldn’t think it would cost so much to house something, which, left to its own devices, lives in a hollow tree.
A bee brush
Since we were looking at a bill approaching $500., I started scrutinizing the list of equipment, looking for anything we might be able to do without. There wasn’t much. The list was put together by the Barnstable County Beekeepers Association, and they tried to keep it to the bare minimum necessary for a new beekeeper to get started. Still …
“Do you think we need the bee brush?” I asked Kevin. A bee brush is a soft-bristled brush that you use to remove bees from a honey-filled frame so you can put it, bee-less, into the extractor.
“Of course we need a bee brush,” he said. “What are you going to brush them off with, your bare hands?”
An ice scraper brush
“We could use the brush from the ice scraper we keep in the car.” I asked. “It looks just like it.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “The scraper brush is a hard brush.” He picked up the sample bee brush to show me. “A bee brush is a soft brush.” He brushed it on my hand to demonstrate.
“We could use it gently,” I suggested.
“It’s $3.95!” he exclaimed, with more than a little exasperation.
I gave in on the bee brush, but I’m sticking to my guns on the bee suit.
A bee suit
A bee suit is a full-body, white zip-up number that, with hat and gloves, is supposed to keep bees out. The full suit wasn’t on the BCBA list, but several people suggested that we get at least one, and preferably two. A quick Internet search revealed prices in the $100 – $200 range.
“It looks like a Tyvek suit,” I told Kevin, who was marginally more receptive to this suggestion.
“Tyvek suits cost six dollars,” I went on.
“They’ll be really hot in the summer, and I’m not sure I want to tend bees while I’m sweating in a Tyvek suit.” He was still skeptical. “Maybe bees can smell discomfort the way wolves smell fear.”
“I don’t think the heat will be that bad,” I said. “I’m at least willing to try it.”
A Tyvek suit
“You are SO getting stung,” Kevin told me.
“I’m getting stung?” I exclaimed. “Why should I get stung? You’re the one who’s going to get stung.”
“You’re going to get stung because you insist on cutting corners on the equipment,” Kevin said, irritated. “Why do you think I’m going to get stung?”
“You’re going to get stung because you’re careless?”
“Careless!?”
“Honey, you’re covered with cuts and bruises you get from doing ordinary household chores. A few months back, you put a nail through your finger with a nail gun. Your nickname is Crash.”
He had to concede that there was something in that. My husband isn’t known for following, or even reading, instructions.
“Bees are different,” he said.
“And why are bees different?”
“Bees can sting,” he explains. And that, presumably, makes them scarier than nail guns, or chop saws, or boats. Oddly, I think we’ve found the one thing that scares Kevin more than it scares me.
We haven’t gotten the bee suit, yet. We won’t need it until April, when our bees come. And then we’ll see who gets stung first, the cheapskate or the daredevil. My money’s on the daredevil.
The expense is just one reason I’m putting off bees until next year- my biggest reason is that I don’t have any fodder, as yet. Well, that and the expense- I’ve already spent a couple of hundred of dollars setting up my seed table and buying seed, horseradish, and asparagus crowns, and our Visa will get hit with another $300 when the nursery ships the fruit and nut trees.
If I tried bees this year I think my husband would croak and roll over and die.
Have you considered topbar hives? Not sure whether they’d be suitable for your climate, but I’m considering them for here in Australia. You can make them yourself pretty easily and very inexpensively.
I’m with you on the white suits – I’m planning to use a Tyvek suit as well. And rather than a centrifugal extractor, you can crush the comb and let the honey drip through a sieve.
Paula — Bees are great, but definitely not worth losing a husband over.
Darren — I think topbar hives are interesting, but I’ve read that management is little more difficult than with conventional hives, and you get less honey. Our plan is to start with two regular hives, and then maybe build a topbar to have at the ready in case we have access to a swarm. As for climate, I’m not sure what the implications are — I’m too new at this. Glad you’re with me on the suits!
I listened to one of my hives today and found silence, a bad sign. So, it is refreshing to be reading about the excitement of new hives – I’ll be needing some of that energy this Spring when I have to order more bees. (We get Northern-bred queens and nucs from Western Mass.) There is another benefit to multiple hives. If one of the hives does well and the other is suffering (as in, not enough bees, not enough honey to make through the winter) you can steal frames of bees and honey from the thrivin’ hive.
Many beekeepers use just the jacket with the hood and veil, they’re much cheaper and you pair it with a pair or two of light-colored pants. Of course, the really tough beekeeps use just the veil and hat – no gloves. The big difference between the Tyvek and the bee suit is the weave of the fabric. Bee suits are heavier and have a tight weave, so when you get stung, and you will, it isn’t as bad – the stinger can’t get in as far.
As bees walk more than they fly in their lives, they are keen on walking up your shoes and getting in your pant leg or under the tongue of your shoe. Then, when you move, they sting you. Other than the hand stings, the ankle and leg stings seem to be the most prevalent. I usually just duct-tape my pant legs to my boots, or rubber band them. Sometimes a bee manages to crawl into the suit, and when you move they nail you – that’s always a surprise.
Oh yeah, one other thing. If you do go for that Tyvek thing, you really need to figure out a veil. When you open a strong hive on a hot summer day, the bees rise up and cover the veil. If you don’t have one, they will cover your face. Are you up for a beard of bees?
And I’m sure you can borrow a centrifuge. We have a big Maxant you can borrow if you need to.
T,
you’re nuts. in the entire scheme of bee keeping, the ONE thing I’d spring for is the suit. Infact, i’d pay extra. “Can I supersize this sucker? maybe one that comes with a built in smoker? or titanium plating? government is doing interesting things with body armor these days..got any of that?”
course, we actually have killer bee swarms in the parts I hail from, so perhaps my fear is unrealistic. but still.
I’m with Amanda.
I’d consider putting on two tyvex suits, just in case one rips.
And what about gloves? What will you wear? Anything?
Will you carry an epi pen just in case?
Beth — I do plan to have a veil and gloves, and I think the Tyvek suits have elastic at the wrists and ankles. They are meant for hazmat, after all. I hope your hive recovers.
Amanda and CCR — I suspect I’ll be in your camp the moment I get stung for the first time.
I would love to have bees, but sadly it’s just another thing my town doesn’t allow. That said, I am irrationally more afraid of bees than most other things that could hurt me. Probably because they have a mind of their own, and that mind can be evil…
Jen — I’ve heard of towns outlawing chickens, but bees? How do they expect pollination to happen, divine intervention? Perhaps you should consider a move …