Episode 16 – Swarm!

The blazing sun in my eyes amplified the intensity of my words, “You’re bees are swarming again!” A little trick in our family is to assign full accountability to someone else if challenges loom on the horizon. No longer “our bees”, the dratted things were whirling in a 30 foot high vortex, a kaleidoscope of black buzzing. A real doozey of a swarm even by our standards. “Well, what can I do about that right now? I have to go off to the market, and I’m not sure how to manage a swarm….” Ernest’s havering reply shifted the burden back to me. A quick look behind me confirmed there was nobody else waving their hand and mouthing “pick me”. What the heck! The truth is that I am far more scared of a swarm of bees than a herd of stampeding cattle! I certainly enjoy the fruits of their labors in the delightful honey spun from our flowering basil and raspberries, but that’s where the relationship ends. Throughout the day, I tracked that bee swarm in best detective fashion. Hiding behind trees, spying from a distance, running away when they appeared to be heading my direction, until Ernest returned and he was greeted with my wifely support. “Okay, now you have to do something about those bees! Look, they are just over in that tree branch. You need to put a garbage can underneath, climb up into the tree with some tree shears and cut the whole mess down so it falls into the container below. Easy! Go for it!” Ernest muttered something about new hives not being set up, and all kinds of technical bee lingo to put me off track. All of a sudden, I felt totally infuriated that we might lose some honey! The bees I didn’t particularly care about, but the loss of those wonderful jars of honey triggered pent up energy and I resolved to take charge. As the temperature hovered around 36 degrees, I threw on thick pants and shirt, followed by my shiny blue one piece ski suit, ski gloves and goggles, gum boots and two hats, one with my RF veil over the face. I may not have a proper bee keeping garment, but those bees would know I meant business when they saw the searing sun reflecting off my shiny blue ski suit! The sight of me marching up the hill in a steaming blue haze with tree shears and a garbage can towards the proverbial tree of bees spurred Ernest into action and into his own bee attire. We managed to drop the bees into the garbage can without too much fuss and gingerly made our way down the hill carrying our very alive, very buzzing prize. We were flush with success, never mind the heat. My job was to hold the lid and once Ernest poured the bees into the hive, get it on as quickly as possible. “Wow, they’re really mad!” commented Ernest as he hoisted up the garbage can, and tipped the contents towards the hive opening. My worst nightmares came true that moment. All I could see was a torrent of very angry writhing, buzzing bees coming straight at me, and then the whole lot of black deathly danger poured down the front of my hot as hades shiny blue ski suit, right into the opening in my gum boots. The explosion of sound, fury and action in all directions will be hard for you, the reader, to imagine. It was beyond my wildest expectations, and I can tell you that screaming loudly, hitting every part of my body whilst ripping off all clothing really is possible. I’m sticking with the cows. Una St.Clair, Looking for a Real Beekeeper HighCroft Farm Off Grid Permaculture una@highcroft-farm.com