“It’s that time again you guys,” I said to my chickens while tucking them in that night. “Tomorrow, we will be beekeepers once again!” All six clucked at me as if they understood. What they were really saying was, ‘Why didn’t you bring any snacks to give out!?’

“Close your eyes now and go to sleep, my babies. I’ll see you all in the morning”. We had been waiting quite a while for this day… seven months to be exact. The hive we’d started the summer before didn’t make it past October.  I learned that many beekeepers had experienced the same loss and that no one had a clear understanding of why. So those of us with only one hive put our order in for new bees and looked forward to spring.

There were chores to be done in preparation for their arrival: the frames containing honey were spun and emptied and honey jarred, the empty frames packaged and put in a safe place, the hive boxes were spruced up with a fresh coat of paint, protective gear laundered, and finally, all bee equipment was cleaned and properly stored for winter. “The yard looks empty without the hive there,” I sulked to my husband. “We’ll try again in the spring,” he comforted.

Winter began and we set about our cold weather routine. Our flock frequently joins us when we are outside. We open the gate that separates our area from theirs. They run out and run everywhere like excited kids at an amusement park. “Stick together!” I yell after them as they scatter across the yard. We let them explore for a bit while we split more logs for the wood stove and refill the bird feeders. One by one they all wander over when they hear my husband start up the garden tiller. “Juicy bugs!” Porridge clucks eagerly. Brownie just about runs the gang over to get to the rich soil and feverishly digs in. We have a short window of time left before the ground freezes and we take advantage of it by adding compost and manure to both gardens for better dirt in the spring. After Doug and his ladies have had their fill, I scoot all of them back over to the coop and latch the gate behind them. “There. You can play on your side until it’s time for bed”.

“One more month!” I called to my husband.  It was March already and our bees were due to arrive mid-April. This year, I decided to try Saskatraz bees. They are hybrids from California and are said to have good overwinter ability, good mite resistance, and the queens are supposed to be great layers. As we all know, Connecticut can get ridiculously cold, especially when the wind blows, so the good reports of overwintering appealed to me. And who doesn’t want a queen bee known to lay lots of baby bees?  Mite resistance is a great quality in bees as is regular mite treatments by the beekeeper.  It would be irresponsible to not pause here and take a moment to elaborate on the importance of treating your hive for mites.

“Varroa destructor (Varroa mite) is an external parasitic mite that attacks the honey bees. The disease caused by the mites is called varroosis. The Varroa mite can only reproduce in a honey bee colony. It attaches to the body of the bee and weakens the bee by sucking fat bodies. In this process, RNA viruses such as the deformed wing virus spread to bees. A significant mite infestation will lead to the death of a honey bee colony, usually in the late autumn through early spring. The Varroa mite is the parasite with possibly the most pronounced economic impact on the beekeeping industry. Varroa is considered to be one of multiple stress factors contributing to the higher levels of bee losses around the world.”

-Wikipedia

I look at mite treatments for bees the same way I look at flea treatments for our boys. We can’t see the fleas on either cat, but stop treating and see what happens. You may never see a mite on your hive (they are very tiny and red) but every hive has them and you need to treat. Be sure to read up on which product is best for your hive. Too strong a treatment could do much damage, and too weak a treatment will do nothing.

So, the day finally arrives! “We’ll be back soon!” I call to our chickens.

“I hear bees are very tasty,” Lily cackles.

“There will be no eating of the honey bees!” I sternly call back to her. “Remind me to put a fence around the hive when we get back,” I say to my husband as we drive off, full of hope and promise. In anticipation of this very day, I had brushed up on my reading, reviewed notes from the previous year, and watched many ‘how to’ videos. I stumbled across a renowned Apiary nearby and was impressed with their genuine care for both bee and beekeeper. And I found the videos to be extremely informative and helpful.

We arrive at the Apiary along with dozens of other excited, anxious, soon-to-be beekeepers. The bees are delivered in ‘packages’ – wood or plastic boxes about the size of a shoebox. There is a hole in the top. An upside-down can of sugar water plugs the hole, preventing bees from getting out while feeding them at the same time. The queen is in the box too, but she is in her own very tiny box called the queen cage. Keeping her separated for a week or so allows the other bees to get to know her so they don’t attack her once she is released. Out to the hive we went, new bees and equipment in hand.

“Well, that looked nothing like the video and did not go according to plan,” my husband and I said to each other as we return to the house, now soaking wet. According to the instructional video, one simply removes the feeder can, then gently removes the queen cage, which gets attached to one of the frames with a rubber band, and lastly one simply shakes the bees from the box and into the hive. Done. My experience was a tad different: the can did not wiggle out as easily as it should’ve and the queen cage was stubbornly wedged and would not come out. Bees were flying around everywhere and it started to sprinkle. I ended up sticking my hand into the box, yanking the queen cage out, and dumping the bees into the hive. I managed to get the queen cage under the rubber band that was on the frame just before it started to pour. “Hurry up! Put the lids on!” my husband encouraged. “I know!” I grumbled back. Once back inside the house, I watched the ‘how to’ video again, said a little prayer that our new colony would survive the ‘dump and run’, and called it a day.

I’m happy to announce it’s been almost two weeks and the bees look great! There are eggs and babies galore in the hive and I thought I saw our queen today! I found out from the Apiary that the supplier had changed the packaging this year which caught all the beekeepers off guard. I was also reassured that bees are hardier than we think, and to not give up.

Our chickens wander along the short perimeter of the hive’s fence. “I have my eyes on you Miss Lily,” I chuckle as she looks up at me with that innocent little face. They don’t understand why they can’t go in there. They don’t like it when I’m paying attention to the bees and not them.  I’m convinced they are licking their chops as they hover around the hive. “Here you go,” I coo as I toss handfuls of grapes and spinach out for our gang to munch on. “You know I think you guys are so very cute. And you know that I love each one of you very much! There are things I’ll need to do to help our bees, but I’ll always be here for all of you!” I console, making Doug, Brownie, Porridge, Checkers, Gert and Lily very happy chickens indeed.

Cindy Bezanson