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Beekeeper secrets

May 19, 2019Jayne Barnes

Posted by Isaac

Do you ever see an object and take pause? See something that takes you to another place and time?

A few times a month I come across these frames with a stamped date. I love them. For a couple reasons. They range from 1997 to 2005, and for me, those were turbulent years. Emotionally intense years with sky high peaks (literally and figuratively) and some dark valleys. I guess I wouldn’t trade it for the present. The memories are enough. Let’s see, 2002, what was I doing that year… bouncing between Ohio, Colorado and Mexico… both gainfully employed and ski bumming… trying to figure things out… trying (and failing) to figure out women…

Little did I know, the very next year Jayne would come along. I still haven’t figured her out, but she did light a candle in the darkness.

Bees weren’t even on the radar in 2002. But I bet I know the guy who put that stamp on there. This is the second reason I love these frames. What was he doing in 2002? In what state was his business? What was he thinking? Was he worried about honey production or pollination, or mites or weather? And what was he doing to mitigate?

It had to be one of the three: Jim North, Dan Grant or Joe Blair. During those years the majority of the beehives in central Ohio were owned by one of these old men. I’ve now known them for years and I love to speculate about the bee days of old. Joe died in 2010, but I do see Jim and Dan at least once a month.

These guys can talk. They’re beekeepers. They have hours of old time stories, and every now and then at a bee meeting or even here in the honey house, I’m the lucky recipient. And I’m not always patient. In truth, it’s hard for me stand and listen when I’ve got something else going on. But I’ve learned that I’m better for it. (Plus, it’s polite.) There are nuggets of wisdom floating in all that talk. Beekeeper secrets.

Now that we’re finally seeing the beginnings of a spring honey flow,

I’m happy to think back on a bit of wisdom Jim imparted on me. It’s kind of a common sense thing, but I wasn’t doing it. I wasn’t really taking advantage of our short but intense spring flow. Here it is, the big secret: bees put honey UP.

Meaning, put your brood nest high in the boxes, right below the super. The bees will fill the super first when the nectar starts pouring in. Keeping in mind, you wouldn’t want to do this for a fall flow, but in the spring, you’ve got plenty of days left for the hive to adjust itself.

Let me show you using a couple nucs to fill some dead-out holes.

If you’re using double deeps to overwinter, go ahead and put that nuc in the top box.

If you can do this a week or two before the flow, and if the nuc is strong enough, those bees will explode into honey production mode.

Put on a queen excluder to force the egg laying down.

And put a super above to catch all that incoming nectar. (cross your fingers)

Bees put honey UP.

Thanks Jim!

I know, something so commonsense is not really a secret, but it took hearing it from Jim. He’s been beekeeping for decades, knows our weather and our honey flows, and knows how to take full advantage.

And this week it all started to fall into place. We got the heat and we got the sunshine.

Our lovely invasive honeysuckle has bloomed in full force.

And our black locust also decided that this was the week.

All this, combined with some acquired knowledge, and we may just make a little spring honey.

Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?

Sunrise, sunset

May 11, 2019Jayne Barnes

-Posted by Isaac

On our way to the baseball game, we decided to have ourselves a track meet.

And on our way to the track meet we thought we needed to look for honey bees.

Does anyone know what this is? It’s everywhere right now. I’ve heard wild mustard, spring goldenrod, stiff goldenrod, yellow aster… I suppose I could look it up. Our little southern Ohio paradise is painted with bright yellow splashes of mystery. With the rain, the farmers still can’t get in. Mother nature is doing the planting this year.

It’s been a strange spring. This week I listened to an NPR story about the annual bird migration through northern Ohio. The guy was saying he’s never seen a year like it. Certain species are weeks early, flying along the southern edge of Lake Erie. Others are a month behind. Very weird.

But at least the apple pollination has gone like clockwork. All our girls are home now.

Out of some, I made a few quick and easy three-frame splits. These will grow and eventually go into the pumpkins in July or August.

Most are getting moved out to their summer yards. Almost every morning I get up early, fire up the forklift and load a group of 16 or 20.

Sometimes the bees get a little testy. Maybe they’re not early risers?

By daybreak, barring mud holes or breakdowns, I’ve got them where they belong and all supered up. On the nicest mornings, I get to enjoy the sunrise.

But most of the time I just come home to start my day. Is this what it feels like to be a dairy farmer? …the milking first, a lot of early chores to get done, only catch a quick breakfast so you can start your day full of work… I did that for two summers in high school. No thanks.

I think I’ll stick with bees. None of this really feels like work.

It just takes time.

For a few days, counting pollinators, nucs and splits, we had almost 500 beehives right here on the home place. A lot of bees in the air! And what a wonderful soothing vibration the sky makes.

Between sunrise and sunset there’s a lot of moving and shaking…

shifting and checking…

Every nuc gets checked. I want to see the strength, pull the queen cage out, and make sure she’s accepted and laying. It gets somewhat repetitive and time consuming.

But worth it, I think. I like those happy customers.

There goes Laura from Urban Honey Bee.

Hopefully happy? …I usually go with the ‘no-news-is-good-news’ approach.

Nuc, splits, moving bees, supering hives. The days are busy.

But not too busy to look around and be mindful. To be aware of the greater busyness out there— the growing, the greening, the nest building, the noise making. Reaching a crescendo in the daylight, then melting into the sunset.

It’s a great time to be alive. Whatever your job may be.

April awesomeness

May 02, 2019Jayne Barnes

-Posted by Isaac

Sorry about the delay. Just about the time I tried to post this (way back in April), the internet went down. So we’ve been working off our phones for three days, taking care of orders, and answering nuc questions. But it’s beyond me to try and post a blog from my phone.

My little Easter mishap is all but a distant bad memory. We’re back on track.

Plugging away on the nucs, hopefully not killing any more. Last Friday the first big wholesale order went out.

And we’re set for three more orders next week. I’m feeling almost caught up. It’s been somewhat of a grind, slopping through the mud, chasing bees and brood.

As you know, April can be dicy.

But I’m thankful that we’re at least seeing some heat. I think we’re finally in the clear as far as chilling brood is concerned.

My friend Kim McCoy posted some interesting pictures this week. This is April 26th this year:

And the same scene, April 26th last year:

Wow! Remember our never-ending winter of 2018? Those shots made it evident that I shouldn’t be whining and crying too loud. Comparatively, we’re sitting pretty in 2019.

We have heat, we just need to dodge the rain… almost daily.

Or suck it up and work through it.

It’s only water, right? The second load of pollinators went into the apples this week. This time to the Lynd Fruit Farm above Pataskala. It was all done in a downpour. But thankfully my buddy Philippe and another friendly non-english speaker jumped on the forklifts. Two forklifts! They made quick work of it.

Almost before I could dry off, I found myself trucking honey south in the sunshine. The gods took pity and gave us one very beautiful morning to set up for the Chillicothe Earth Gathering.

Saturday was big. Jayne handled Worthington while Jeanne and Jamie worked the festival. I spent the day in the bee yards, continuing with our nuc collections. It was dry for once… I simply couldn’t not work bees.

A dry spell that lasted all of eight hours. By evening, I gathered up honey and tables and tents in the rain. Oh well. At least we have heat.

Aside from the May flowers, April showers bring something else. Something far more special. Almost magical.

And oh, so tasty!

This truly is living the high life. We’ve been breakfasting on morels every morning.

And if I’m lucky, sometimes in the evening. The wet bee suit comes off, the kids get put to bed, out comes a bottle of wine and the mushrooms. Maybe an old episode of Game of Thrones if there’s time. We’re catching up.

The next day, with the bee suit dry, out the door I go. Think it’ll rain?

Yeah, probably.

It’s awesome, isn’t it?

Easter Mess up

April 22, 2019Jayne Barnes

-Posted by Isaac

Happy Easter, bees.

Yes, that’s actually a field in Ohio. Right down the road, in fact. Every now and then you’ll see a thing of beauty. The farmers haven’t been in to spray. It’s either too wet or they’re just too busy, and the purple deadnettle takes over. I hope the bees enjoy it. It won’t last long.

Let me tell you about my mess up. I discovered it yesterday, Easter Sunday. I was skipping the extended family stuff, mainly because Jayne and the kids spent Easter in Holmes County, but also for the simple reason that I’m feeling overwhelmed with bee work, and yesterday was a warm dry day. Had to work… but now I wish I hadn’t…

I discovered I killed about 50 nucs. Still sick about it this morning. But I’m getting a grip on what happened, and what the repercussions will be.

I won’t get into the details. But let me say it can be boiled down to— 1. My own stupidity. 2. The weather 3. The rush to fulfill wholesale nuc orders.

Those three, in combination with apple pollination.

Moved bees into the orchards this week.

And as it turns out, all my foragers (those that were supposed to be keeping the nucs warm) went into the apples.

Instead of taking pictures of goats, maybe if I was a little more vigilant about checking…

…I would have discovered my little disaster in time.

We’ve got 350 to wholesale! Got to move, got to move! I assumed all was well, and forged ahead. Maizy even helped for a while.

That beautiful frame of brood she’s holding— now dead.

What an idiot I am. I’m just glad I was able to call Jayne last night. I didn’t sleep much, but what little I got was due to her soothing everything-will-be-alright talk.

And she’s right, everything will be alright. We’ve got plenty of bees, and plenty of time to recover. Another hard lesson learned.

Most of the night was spent batting around the nuc sales problems. Here’s what I’ve come to (for next year):

1. Nothing goes out before May.

2. No more wholesaling. (Which ought to make a few of you happy. You know who you are.) I’m tired of the stress. Maybe some sort of nuc honor system?… so I still don’t have to deal with you…

3. I come first. The early nucs will be moved into dead-out holes in April… instead of the post-sale stuff in late May.

It’s another day. Looking like we’ll see some sun. I’m going back out in an hour, going to shake this sick feeling in my stomach. Hopefully I’ll make it through five or six yards, come home hungry and tired and be able to kiss and hug my beautiful family.

And really, take a step back. What are these problems? They’re trivial. Sri Lanka dealt with church bombings for their Easter Sunday.

Today is going to be a better day.

American Dream

April 12, 2019Jayne Barnes

-Posted by Isaac

What a fantastic week!

For humans and insects alike.

Mostly dry, sixty five degrees, even sunny at times. The world has come alive!

The pollen flow has gone from a trickle to a tidal wave.

Red from the deadnettle, yellow from the willows.

The bees are building, the race is on!

We are well into the splitting process…

… the nuc population of Honeyrun Farm is increasing by the hour,

and by the day.

I’m rushing around from one thing to the next.

But I am thankful for my lovely wife who helps me keep my bearings. She sees to it that I don’t lose track of the more important things in life— like good music. A few days ago we shot down to Nelsonville to watch my favorite drunken poet.

I’ve been in love with Hayes Carll for a few years now. Jayne knew this and made good on a belated birthday present— front row seats, Stuart’s Opera House on a Tuesday night. What a perfect evening, falling into a perfect week.

This song has been kicking around in my head for days.

I love it. Even though I don’t totally understand it. It just makes me feel good, almost patriotic. I listen to it, draw metaphors from the beautiful lyrics, and just look around. Is this it? The American dream? I guess so. I guess it suits me. Bees and trees and flowers and kids and music. The brimming excitement of spring growth.

I’ll leave it at that. I’ve got a phone full of pictures from this week and I’ll go ahead and share my version.

Then play it again. Listen to this Texas poet and think about your own American dream.