Adventures in Beekeeping

         I have been interested in beekeeping ever since my mom read us The Fields of Home by Ralph Moody. Hearing about lining bees to find their home in a hollow tree appealed to my inner treasure hunter. One summer day I was exploring down by the creek and found where a bunch of bees were watering in one of the last remaining puddles. I had read that bees always water at the nearest good water source, so I knew their home would be close. I went to the kitchen and got some honey on a plate, some flour, and a quizzical look from my mom, then set the plate out by the creek. The bees soon found it and every time the bees would land to get honey, I would sprinkle them with flour to make them more visible when flying. I then would watch them bee-line it back to the hive. I tried following them, but bees are really fast and me running back and forth across the field in front of the house squinting at the sky did not help with the quizzical looks from Mom. So, I changed tack. I caught several on the plate then moved them perpendicular to the established line about 50 yards. Soon a new line was established from this location. Based on the angle of the two lines I judged where the two would intersect and I followed it until I got close, and I was thrilled when I could hear the hive! I located them in a big Black-Oak. I didn’t do anything with them, but go and watch them occasionally, but I had followed the clues and found the treasure.

               My next endeavor with bees was working at a State Park for the summer. I was working with the naturalist and one of the many things we taught the public about was pollinators and so we had an observation hive—a hollow log in the office with a section taken out and covered over with plexi-glass and a tube running from the cavity in the log through a hole in the wall so the bees could come and go. The only problem was that we didn’t have any bees in it. One day a local scout leader called us and let us know that the power company had cut down a bee tree and we could come get the bees. I was pretty excited and as we drove down to cut these bees out of the log my boss kept telling me about handling bees. Some of His points where along these lines: Bees are attracted to sting dark clothing, don’t work them in inclement weather or after dark, don’t bang on the hive or make loud noises, etc.

               We arrived at the location of the bee tree just as a thunderstorm was rolling in and the sun was setting. I was given half a bee suit/mosquito veil in OD Green which I donned with trepidation, recalling how bees like to sting darker colors. And I began questioning if my main role in all this was as a distraction to keep the bees busy stinging me so the others could work on the hive. These questions were settled when we set to work on the log with chain saws and hammer and chisel. Giving the bees an ample shot at all of us. At times I was wondering if we were trying to get stung. I did end up getting a couple of good stings, but considering that we drove back with about as many bees in the cab as in the box due to a small leak, we didn’t do too bad.

The next year when I was working on the barges along the Mississippi I got up to take my watch and was informed that we were not able to check the barges because there was a swarm of bees on one of them. I knew that swarms are unlikely to sting, but I also knew that since we were moving, the scout bees would not make their way back and the bees would be there until they slowly died. I thought that if I caught them, I could mail them next day to some beekeeper friends when the grocery boat came out.

I talked with the captain, and he agreed to let me remove them if I wore a bee suit. I didn’t have a suit, so I improvised. One might say I was a regular MacHiver. I found a yellow rain suit, and a clear plastic face shield, some work gloves, and sealed all the cracks with duct tape. I put on my floatation vest and walked out on the barges with a box and my fellow deck hands close behind. They stayed well back while I scooped the bees into the box and as soon as I had it closed, they sprang to my side with wasp spray and attacked any stragglers with wild flailing. Which elicited a colorful inquiry from the wheelhouse “what the h#!! is going on out there!?” I made it back to the boat and asked the captain about posting the box and was horribly saddened when he informed me that he would not have bees on his boat one second longer and I was to send them immediately to Davey Jones.

There was another attempt at bee keeping involving a bee tree and a Kenyan top bar hive, but I’ll not go into details, as it’s not one of my prouder moments.

A few years ago, I decided that I would try my hand at bee keeping again, so I began looking at equipment. I soon realized that if I was going to afford bee keeping, I would need to build my own equipment. But I did see some pretty “good deals” on Amazon for bee suits. I finally settled on a thirty-dollar suit, veil, and gloves. I saw that it shipped from China and the reviews said that you need to order up a couple sizes, so I did and being 6 feet tall and 200 pounds I placed my order for a XXXL. Three months later I got my own bee suit in the mail. This was the middle of a busy summer, so I set the package on the shelf and forgot about it for a while.  

One day at the camp I worked at, I was getting ready to lead a church group on a high ropes course, a course designed to build up the body of Christ while being fun and challenging. As I was inspecting the course I noticed that there was a nest of bald hornets hanging from one of the poles about three feet below where the group would be walking, but still about forty feet in the air. The course was designed to be challenging, but a nest full of hornets thrown in the mix would be a little much, so I set about trying to remove them.

I figured that the nest would prevent any wasp spray from reaching the hornets and I had to be very careful that whatever I did would not compromise the course in any possible way, so a flame thrower was out. I went home and grabbed the bee suit off the shelf and put it on… well, tried to put it on. If what I got was a triple extra-large, the large would be equivalent to an American size 3 Toddler. The arms ended just bellow the elbow, the legs came up to mid-calf, but the worst part was that the torso was so short, that I had to hunch over and curl up to get it zipped and there was a rather unpleasant pull any time I tried to straighten out. But undaunted, I applied to my old friend duct tape and extended the cuffs of my pants and pulled the gloves up over the sleeves. I was about as bee proof as if the suit actually fit, hornet proof though…?

I grabbed the wasp spray and my climbing harness and went out to the course. All I will say is that putting an uncomfortable harness on and climbing a phone pole toward a nest of angry hornets in the posture of a hunched ape (or apiarian as the case may be), was not the highlight of my day. As I reached the nest, someone sounded the alarm and hornets swarmed me, it was at this time that I realized in my climb I had extended my body just enough so that the wire mesh hood had pulled back and was now pressed against my nose, a perfect target for the javelin wielding little arthropods. They began landing on the veil and stabbing at me through the screen. From a scientific observer’s stance, it was a grand opportunity. I could clearly see every inch of the stinger as it extend toward my eye and count the barbs on barbs along its length. I learned all sorts of fascinating things about the anatomy of hornets, for instance, did you know that they can actually spray their venom? I would have gathered more details about this phenomenon, but what with the distractions of trying to keep from falling to my death, maintaining my curled posture or else sing soprano, the pull of duct tape on leg hair, and trying my best turtle impression to avoid the enemy spears, I didn’t take any notes. I do remember vividly the surprising quantity of clear liquid as it shot onto my eye, almost indistinguishable from the tears that followed. And even without being injected, the venom is potent enough to produce contact dermatitis.

Suffice it to say; I did not give up and it was with great satisfaction that I seized the nest and hurled if from the heights, speedily descended and did my best attempt at a Scottish jig on the offending nest.

I am glad no picture exists of the mad hunchback in the short bee suit, climbing harness, and duct tape stockings, with his dog whistle curses, red face, and watery eyes, jigging on a hornet nest in the middle of the woods. If you recall Sam McGee… The northern lights may “have seen queer sights”, but the Ozark hills have ‘em beat pat.