Bees: My Second Swarm Capture

Not as easy as my first swarm capture, but just as rewarding.

I started my beekeeping hobby in June 2013 and have been blogging about it periodically. If you’re interested in reading the other posts in this series, follow the Adventures in Beekeeping tag. Keep in mind that the most recent posts always appear first on this blog.

The bees are starting to swarm. They do it every year around this time. They’ve outgrown their homes and their colonies split. The queen and about 2/3 of the workers leave the hive in search of a new home. They’ll gather in tree branches and on building eaves, resting while scouts look for the perfect place to move in. Sometimes it’s a hollow tree; other times, it’s an empty space in the wall of your home or garage, accessed by a hole so small you didn’t even know it was there. I blogged more about swarms here.

Beekeepers like this time of year. It means free bees. But we have to work for it.

I was called out for a swarm capture the other day. Some new beekeepers met me there — the plan was for them to assist and learn. But the bees flew off right as they arrived.

Yesterday I got another call. I grabbed my bee box — that’s a rolling plastic toolbox I store all my beekeeping equipment in — and a cardboard nuc box with six frames in it and jumped in the truck. The bees were up in a pine tree and I was hoping it was near where I could park so I wouldn’t have to deal with a ladder. That’s how I’d handled my first swarm capture last year.

No such luck. The homeowner met me and escorted me to the back yard. The bees were about 12-14 feet up, gathered in two big clumps on the branches of a pine tree. Beneath them were some huge ornamental rocks and a somewhat neglected rock garden. Even if I could back my truck into the yard, I’d never get it close enough to use it as a platform.

Stan, a new beekeeper, and his wife arrived. Stan seemed very knowledgeable — so knowledgeable that I didn’t realize he was new. I suited up while the homeowner fetched a 12-foot orchard ladder. Orchard ladders are the best for outdoor work in trees; with just three legs, they’re really easy to set up and keep balanced. Stan set it up and it was rock solid. That didn’t make me feel any better, though; I don’t like climbing ladders.

But I wanted this swarm so I climbed.

Stan held the ladder while his wife, on the ground, held one of the tree branches away. While most of the bees were clumped together, hundreds of them buzzed around my head while I dealt with the thick pine branches and needles. Bees are not aggressive when swarming. They have very little to protect — just the queen, in fact — and have gorged themselves with honey prior to departure so they’re a bit on the sluggish side.

The idea was to cut the branches the bees were clumped on and lower them into the nuc box. I’d already prepared it by removing four of the six frames. The two frames I left in there contained drawn-out comb made by other bees. I was basically offering them not only a new home, but one that was partially furnished.

Trouble was, the big clump of bees, which was probably the one protecting the queen, was on a big branch — so big, in fact, that I needed a saw to cut it. All I had was my clippers. (Note to self: add saw to bee box.) Fortunately, Stan had a saw. He fetched it and I did what I didn’t think I’d ever do: I released the ladder so I could hold the branch with one hand and saw with the other.

12 feet off the ground. Wearing a bee suit complete with pith helmet and veil.

I must have looked comical.

The branch came free remarkably easily. I was going to walk it down the ladder, but Stan volunteered to take it from me. He wasn’t suited up at all. A brave man who understands bee mentality. (I prefer to feel “invincible” in my bee suit while working closely with bees.) I handed the branch to him. It slipped as he changed his grasp on it, dumping about 1,000 bees onto the ground. But then he pulled another frame out of the nuc box and stuck the branch in.

A crowd of spectators had begun to gather, all keeping their distance.

I turned to the other clump, which was smaller. It was gathered on a pair of much smaller branches that intersected. I’d need to grab the branches together and cut them together. No problem. The clippers made short work of them. I descended the ladder holding a branch with about 3000 bees clinging to it. I lowered it into the box.

By this time, the bees had taken a liking to the box. Bees covered both sides of the frame in the box and were climbing up the outside of the box to move into it. They were abandoning the branch to move into the box. Bees were fanning all over the top of the box, sending the queen’s scent out to the other bees so they could find them. Even the bees on the ground were heading for the box. It was pretty amazing stuff.

Bees on a branch in a box
We started by lowering the branches of bees into the prepared nuc box.

Over the next 20 minutes, we worked to encourage the bees to move into the box. I trimmed away empty branches to make the bee branches smaller. I slid another frame into the box. I lifted the branch and used my bee brush to sweep bees from the branch into the box. Stan slid in another frame. I banged the branch to shake the bees into the box. The whole time, spectators watched, taking photos, getting closer and closer. The bees were completely docile. The ones that knew about the box clearly wanted in.

Eventually, we got them off the branches and into the box. We slid three more frames in for a total of five. I think three of them had drawn out comb and the others were brand new. I left the box open for a while. About 100 bees were still flying around, looking for their friends. They’d never all be in the box. It was time to close it up and head home.

Bees in a Nuc Box
Most of the bees were in the box within about 20 minutes.

I thanked everyone for their help and gave my email address to one spectator who claimed to have video. (I hope she sends it!) I told Stan that now I owed him an assist.

I put the bees and the rest of my gear in the back of my truck and headed out. May 10 and my first swarm capture. It was a good start for the year. Would I have any others? Swarm season ran until the end of June. I have my fingers crossed.

Bees: The Riskier Hive Split

Just a quick note another long, drawn out post to document a recent hive split and the results so far.

I started my beekeeping hobby in June 2013 and have been blogging about it periodically. If you’re interested in reading the other posts in this series, follow the Adventures in Beekeeping tag. Keep in mind that the most recent posts always appear first on this blog.

Last year, I split my original hive into 2 hives. I called it “the risky hive split” because of the way I did it — kind of haphazardly with my fingers crossed. I basically pulled a few brood frames with swarm cells out of an existing hive and stuck them in a new hive box with some honey and empty frames. The split worked because at least one of the queens hatched and took over. But that new hive was never very healthy and was the second to die after winter. The original hive was the first to die.

Mites on a Sticky Board
The actual size of this square is 1 inch.

Now you could say that they died because of the split. Instead of one strong hive, I wound up with two week ones. But I did the split in mid-July and prevented a swarm. The original hive continued to thrive. I think the reality was much more sinister. Both of those hives had terrible varroa mite infestations — I documented this with sticky boards in late summer. Although I did what I could to get rid of the mites, including drone frames, screened bottom boards, and miticide, I think the damage was done and the colonies were weak going into winter. The winter was harsh with few warm days and the bees simply didn’t make it.

Springtime at My Mobile Apiary

Fast forward to this year. Of my three hives, only my swarm capture hive survived the winter. Not only did it survive, but it was going like gangbusters within a few days of setting it up in my temporary home in the Sacramento area of California. (That hive, by the way, had very few mites in late summer. Coincidence? I don’t think so.)

If you’re not a beekeeper, all this is probably meaningless to you. Let me try to explain as simply as I can.

Each hive must have a single queen and a whole bunch of worker bees. It might also have drones, but doesn’t really need them. (Strong women really don’t need men either, but I digress.) The queen’s job is to lay eggs to make more bees. The workers’ jobs are to do everything else — tend to the eggs and larvae (or brood), maintain the hive, guard the hive, gather pollen and nectar, and make honey.

If there isn’t a queen, no new bees can be added to the hive. Within a month or two, all the bees will have died and the colony will have collapsed. The workers instinctively know this. They also know if the current queen is sick and needs replacement (supercedure) or if the hive is becoming so crowded that half the bees need to move out with the queen so there’s room for a new queen to start fresh (swarming).

The workers have the ability to turn any egg into a queen when they think they’ll need one. They do this by forming a special elongated cell for the egg and feeding it a diet of royal jelly, which they make, until the cell is capped. After a longer-than-usual larval stage, a queen emerges. If there’s more than one queen in a hive, the strongest queen will kill the weaker ones.

I’ve done four pretty thorough hive inspections since arriving here and setting up the bees — including the initial setup/inspection about a month ago. The second inspection showed impressive brood development but not much in the way of honey storage. In addition, I was very surprised to see that the queen’s laying pattern covered almost an entire brood frame — not just the middle as most queens do. There were brood cells all the way to the side and bottom edges of each brood frame with just areas along the top and in the corners filled with honey.

The other surprise was how many of the frames were being used for brood. The deep body had just nine frames in it — a strategy I’d like to avoid in the future — and there was brood in six or seven of them. At that rate, I figured the queen would soon run out of space for brood and the bees would need more room for honey. So I placed a queen excluder atop the deep box, a spacer with an entrance on top of that, and a medium box with mostly drawn out — but otherwise empty — comb on top of that. The idea was to encourage the bees to move the honey upstairs, where I could pull frames for extraction and replace them with empty frames. The queen excluder would keep the queen downstairs. In theory, it should work.

It didn’t. On the next inspection, I found that the queen just kept laying eggs downstairs, making the hive ever more crowded, but the bees had not started to put honey in the medium super above them. I looked for signs of swarm preparation but found none. Just a whole lot of bees and a whole lot of brood.

That gave me the idea that they wanted to make bees. That was fine with me; I was hoping to go home with at least three active hives. Maybe I should try another hive split?

The Riskier Hive Split

Now, the last time I did a hive split, I had swarm cells — that means that the workers were already trying to make queens, likely in advance of a swarm event. What made that split risky is that I never actually found the queen. I just made sure that each hive had brood frames with swarm cells on them. I figured that the bees would continue to tend to those swarm cells until a queen emerged. If a hive wound up with more than one queen, they’d sort it out for themselves.

And that’s what they apparently did. They certainly didn’t swarm and I have no way of knowing which hive wound up with the old queen — or even if she was killed by a new queen.

But in this case, I didn’t have any swarm or supercedure cells. No future queen.

What I did, have, however, was the location of the queen. I found her on one of the three primary brood frames during my third inspection. I was prepared. I’d already assembled another deep hive box with brood and honey frames. I slid the frame with the queen on it back into her hive and then pulled out the other two primary brood frames, each of which had very young larvae in them. I can only assume there were eggs as well — the damn things are so small that I just can’t see them in cells against the yellow background. (Note to self: only buy black foundation for deep frames from now on.) I slid those frames with their bees into the new box and put empty brood frames from that box into the original hive. Then I took one of the honey frames full of bees and put that into the new box. In all, I probably put about 30% of the original hive’s bees and 20% of its brood into the new box. I closed up the new box and pointed its door 90° to the left (south)

What I was hoping, of course, was that the bees in the new hive would quickly realize that they were queenless and do something about it — namely, take a few of those cells containing eggs or newly hatched larvae and do what they needed to do to turn them into queens. That would be the best case scenario. The worst case is that they’d abandon the hive and find their way back into their old hive, which was sitting right beside them with its door pointing 90° to the right (west), leaving the brood untended so it would die.

Of course, you won’t find many bee books that tell you to do this. Most tell you that if you want to split a hive, you should buy a queen, put bees from an existing colony into a new hive box, and introduce the new queen to them. If they accept the queen — which they should if you do everything right — the queen will get right to work making more bees.

I had a few more things to do with the original hive before I closed it back up.

I had a drone frame in there and it was more than half full and capped, but I pulled it out and replaced it with a regular frame. Trouble is, it won’t fit in my RV’s freezer and I had to borrow freezer space at the airport office. Doing that once is okay, but I don’t think they’d like to see a new frame full of bee larvae every three weeks. (Yes, I did wrap it in a black plastic bag.) I’ll save the drone frames for when I get home and can access my chest freezer.

In the meantime, I’d bought a comb honey setup with shallow frames and wax foundation. Not knowing what else to do with it, I stuck it on top of the medium box on the original hive. Maybe they’d prefer that kind of foundation over the medium frames. (That would certainly make me happy, since I want to make comb honey.)

I closed the hive back up, put away my tools, wished the bees luck, and left them.

Throughout the week, I visited the hives. I saw bees coming and going from both hives, but far more at the original hive than the new one.

Progress Report

And that brings me to my most recent hive inspection, which I did earlier today. My main goal was to see what was going on in that new hive. Were there bees in there? Were they working? Most importantly, had they built queen cells?

I suited up and opened their box. I immediately saw bees inside — a good sign. I pulled out a few frames along the edges. No new brood — but I really didn’t expect any.

Queen Cell
This photo shows a queen cell and some drone cells from last year. I didn’t take any photos of the queen cells in my new hive.

Then I pulled out one of the middle brood frames — one of the ones that had been inside the old hive box. I was thrilled to see queen cells on one side. I counted two of them. The other frame had five queen cells. This was looking good. I put everything back in place and closed it up. No need to disturb the bees any more than I needed to.

Of course, now I have a new worry. If the queen hatches successfully, will she find drones to mate with when she goes out for her mating flights? Maybe freezing that drone frame was a bad idea. (Cut me some slack; I’m new at this.)

The original hive, however, was a bit of a disappointment. The bees still hadn’t put any honey in either of the upper boxes. To make matters worse, they’d begun to fill the queen excluder with wax. I had quite a time clearing it out. Not knowing what else to do, I reassembled the hive the way it had been. If the new hive produces a queen and she starts laying eggs, I’ll put one of the honey supers on that hive.

In the Meantime…

A beekeeper with a pollination business here in California is selling his hives. He has 50 left and is selling them in palettes of four. I’ll be visiting him next week. Who knows? I might come back to the airport with another four beehives.

Bees: Rebuilding a Screened Bottom Board

A minor adjustment that required a bit of effort.

I started my beekeeping hobby in June 2013 and have been blogging about it periodically. If you’re interested in reading the other posts in this series, follow the Adventures in Beekeeping tag. Keep in mind that the most recent posts always appear first on this blog.

I use screened bottom boards for my beehives. It’s a mite control measure; when the mites fall off the bees, they fall through the screen and can’t climb back into the hive.

My surviving hive had very few mites when I bundled it up for the winter. My other two hives — both now dead — had more than average mites. Coincidence? I don’t think so. It’s in my best interest to minimize the mite population in my hives and I’d like to do that as much as possible without resorting to chemical solutions.

I bought one screened bottom board — also called a varroa trap — from Mann Lake. I like it a lot, but it wasn’t exactly cheap: $28.95. Buying one of these for each of my hives would get costly quickly.

Fortunately, my friend Jim builds his own hive equipment. He built a screened bottom board. It was simpler — it didn’t have the fancy drawer that I really didn’t need — and I couldn’t beat the price: $15. I bought two.

Bees
It’s important to keep the bees inside the hive while transporting them.

Trouble is, Jim built his bottom boards using 1/4 inch screen. That means the wires of the screen are 1/4 inch apart. While this will keep mice out of the hive — as it kept mice out of my RV when I used the same stuff there — it doesn’t prevent the bees from getting out of the bottom of the hive. This turned out to be very important on my trip south when the bees, feeling the warmth of California’s spring, decided to go flying while I was driving. I don’t know how many bees I lost in transit, but I do know that there were hundreds of them flying around my truck when I parked.

I put the hive in its temporary apiary. I soon discovered that the bees were regularly using the bottom screen to enter and exit the hive. This would not do. I wanted my bees to use the doors I provided — namely the front door. This would be easier for the bees to protect from robbers, too. Clearly, I had to make a change.

Fortunately (or, in reality, unfortunately), the hive that the Mann Lake bottom board had been sitting on was dead. Yesterday, while inspecting the hive, I swapped out the bottoms.

But I still had two bottoms with 1/4 inch screen when they should have 1/8 inch screen.

The solution was simple. I’d disassemble the two bottoms and replace the existing screen with more screen.

I needed a few things:

  • 1/8 inch screen. I bought 6 square feet of the stuff.
  • A small pry bar to pry off the wood strips holding the screen in place.
  • A cutting tool that would cut through the screen. I already had one, but I’d left it home when I traveled south.
  • 1-1/2 inch wire nails. I’d need to reattach the wood strips.

Fortunately, I already had a hammer in the RV toolkit.

The job went surprisingly quickly. The small pry bar I’d bought easily fit in the crack between the wood strips and the main piece of the hive bottom. Jim had used thin wire nails, probably from a nail gun. On one bottom, the nails stayed in the strips and I could reuse most of them; on the other, the nails stayed in the bottoms and I had to remove them with the claw end of my hammer.

Bottom stripped
Here’s the second of the two bottoms I disassembled. I’d painted this one before use.

Once the wood strips were out, I had to use the pry bar to separate the screen from the main part of the bottom. Jim had used U-shaped tacks for this. As I pried, the screen broke, leaving most of the tacks behind. But I was able to salvage about 10 of them — this turned out to be a good thing because I hadn’t bought any.

I cut pieces of screen and laid it into place. Then I replaced the wood strips, nailing them down firmly. There was enough screen overhang that I know the nails caught the screen. But because there was nothing holding the front of the screen in place at the entrance, I used the salvaged tacks.

Completed Bottom
Here’s the completed screened bottom with the new screen in place. The holes are half as wide so I’m sure they’ll keep the bees from getting through while allowing the mites to fall through to the ground.

It took me about an hour, working out in the sunshine of a very nice day with just a bit of wind. My truck tailgate made a good work surface, although I did use the pavement nearby as a base when it came time to use the hammer.

I now have all the parts I need to build another two hives. All I need are the bees.