#rooftop bees

REGIME CHANGE AT BOTTOM HIVE! 

The bees at Bottom Hive didn’t care for their queen. And not without reason, as we saw a while back, Bottom’s queen wasn’t exactly a champion layer. Though there were eggs and brood, her pace and pattern of laying was nothing like what we saw in the other hives. That meant there really weren’t enough bees for the hive to truly thrive.

So Bottom’s bees took matters into their own hands, so to speak. That peanut-shaped object up above is a queen cell. They built it to raise a new queen. And as we can see...

GONE TO THAT GREAT HIVE IN THE SKY

I’ve been putting of this post off for some time. But I can’t delay any longer. Here’s the news, and it’s not good:

We’ve had a complete dead-out. Every single hive. Peeking inside, it looks like an icy version of Pompeii. Few bees, but those are there, are frozen in midlife. Poor Swarm Hive was trying to raise new queens.

What happened? The honest answer is we’re not sure. Perhaps we were too late in treating for varroa. Perhaps, it was the bitter winter  —  the coldest in Philadelphia for several years. Or a combination of things. So we’ve gone from being “bee havers” (almost bee keepers) to “bee haders.” Such is life, or in this case death. Cue the requiem music.

OUR MITE SITUATION: HIGH IS LOW AND LOW IS HIGH

As summer winds down, our thoughts inevitably turn to mite counts. Though we’ve done sugar rolls over the summer (And yes, admittedly we could have done a few more.), Fall is when our concerns about mites grow mightily.

On our latest test, a couple days ago, we got 22 mites from Low Hive. (Probably a dead hive buzzing.) But High Hive had only 3 mites. (We both counted and re-counted, but it that was it.)

DEAD LOW  

Low Hive is dead. And “dead low” is certainly a good description of how we’re feeling after discovering it.

We know it’s an odd time of year for hive inspections. But a blast of freakishly warm (70˚F/22˚C) February weather this weekend in Philadelphia, gave us a rare window of opportunity and we opened our hives. We started with Low Hive — the problem child — and made the discovery no beekeeper wants to make: It was empty. Well... empty of bees. (It was full of honey and signs of varroa infestation!)

The other hives showed signs of life, like this flying squadron banking into Stryohive. But looks can be deceiving, so before we opened the other two, we ran downstairs for powered sugar and a Mason jar to do a sugar roll. 

As we feared, the results of the sugar roll were not great. Styrohive had 12 mites per half cup of bees. High hive had 16. So are these just “dead hives walking?” Was there anything we could do?  

Davey and I stood on the roof and talked it over. We had to do something. The only thing we had handy was a pack of Hopguard strips we’d bought almost by chance during the Philadelphia Bee Symposium. The directions say it can be applied “throughout the year.” 

So we put on latex gloves, tore open the foil pack and slid the oily strips into the brood nests of both hives. Will it make any difference? We surely don’t know. But we hope. 

 January 12 update: BEES FLEW. HUMANS HAD THE FLU.

Last week, in a miserable, flu-induced state of mind, I was restlessly roaming the house. For no particular reason, I climbed upstairs to the roof and peered out the window. Flying bees!

So I thought, “It must be warm!” (Well, warmish, as it turned out — about 57˚ F /14˚ C.)  So what did I do in my fever-addled condition? Naturally, I trotted out onto the roof in bare feet (and wearing only my sushi pajamas) to take a picture in what was a surprisingly brisk breeze. (I’ve discovered, I don’t make my best decisions with a fever.)

DAWN OF A NEW SEASON

We beegin, again. 

Last winter, the bees died, every last one of them. So this past weekend, we took another long drive deep into northwestern Pennsylvania and came home with three nucs which we installed in the empty hive boxes vacated by our late lamented bees. 

It didn’t take long for the new girls to make themselves at home. By the next morning we had traffic flying in and out of all three of our horizontal hive boxes: High, Low and Layens.  

We can stand across the street and see the bees taking off and landing. (If you life in the ‘hood, you can do it, too!) Davey says we have a much happier roof. 

One thing we’ve done differently this year is our placement of the Layens hive. We’ve moved it from the west side of the roof to the east, so it gets first sunlight. (Last year, Layens was always slow to stir we think because it took longer for the sun to reach it.) But its new location is a bit of a trade-off. Now, the Layens gets more sun, but it’s also in very close proximity to an air conditioning unit with big, bee-mutilating fans. We may have to re-evaluate once the hot weather arrives and the A/C kicks in. 

A STICKY BUSINESS

BEE GUANO IS NOT AN INTERNATIONAL POP STAR

Bee guano is a pretty fair description of what’s on everything in front of our house. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

Yesterday seemed like such a good day for painting! Dry and sunny with a slight breeze. Davey grabbed a paintbrush and applied a nice, smooth coat of high-gloss, white enamel to some shelves. To help them dry, he put them out on the pavement right in front of the house. So far, so good. 

But, of course, right in front of our house is also directly below (35 feet/ 11 meters below — but still directly below) the hives on the roof.

Have you guessed already? 

As the bees left the hive, they left their “calling cards”  — in abundance. And Davey’s pristine shelves were pristine, no more. It’s like they used them for target practice!