The following was originally posted on December 7th, 2015, but was edited and updated on October 27th, 2016, to reflect my current practices, such as they are, and could be updated without noticed at any time in the future.
Something weird happened. I got several emails from people asking me what I do to prepare my hives for winter.
One of my bee hives after a snow storm in 2013. The bees survived.
I’m no expert, but here’s what I do, and what I do could change entirely by this time next week.
The typical winter configuration for a world renowned and stupendous Mud Songs bee hive. (November 4th, 2015.)
SHORT VERSION: I was concerned when I saw a medium honey super suddenly crowded with bees. It turns that’s nothing to worry about.
LONG VERSION: I have one colony this year that isn’t in sad shape and might make some honey that I can eventually steal. The average high temperature for July where I live was 15°C (59°F), and that’s mostly with rain and fog. Honey bees that can make honey under such conditions are miracles workers. Yet I noticed bees in this one hive showing up in the honey super about a week ago and then today, just now, I found this above the honey super:
That’s a view of the bees through a screen at the bottom of an empty moisture quilt, essentially a screened inner cover and ventilation rim. Anyway, the bees are crowded up over the top bars in the honey super, pushing themselves into the screen of the empty moisture quilt. That’s a full blown cluster of bees, not just a few hundred workers showing interest in a honey super. Continue reading →
It’s not the most instructive video, but I’ve relaxed my criteria for posting photos and videos on Mud Songs. If I think it could spark the imagination of anyone curious about honey bees or beekeeping, that’s good enough for me. If I can instruct at the same time, well, that’s a bonus. The 1:50 mark in the video, for instance, shows how the bees begin to build comb by festooning. My explanation in the video isn’t the most articulate. I’m so used to beekeeping alone in silence, I felt awkward talking. Festooning is not a well-defined phenomena anyway, so my bumbling explanation kind of fits.
I caught a swarm out in the country last year and I loved it. But unfortunately I live a in relatively crowded urban neighbourhood with an easily enraged next door neighbour, so even though I only have one hive in the city now, I don’t have the luxury of a laid back attitude towards swarms. I need to keep my neighbour from calling the fire department on me again, which means I have to do everything I can to prevent my lonely little colony from swarming. So what should I do?
Upper half of the large water melon sized swarm I caught last summer.
I performed the first full hive inspection of the year yesterday. I also reversed the brood boxes while I was at it. Next year I plan to reverse the boxes shortly after the bees start hauling in pollen from the crocuses (instead of waiting until the dandelions bloom). Whether from dandelions or crocuses, if the bees bring in pollen at a steady pace for about a week, that’s my cue to reverse the brood boxes. Had I reversed them a few weeks ago, I might have been able to avoid the disgusting mess of scraping off drone comb between the frames of the top and bottom boxes. I could have avoided splitting up the brood nest too. Check out Honey Bee Suite for more info on reversing boxes.