A bee-yootiful day

A swarm of bees on a wood rat's house

Homesteading adventures have been happening here on Foggy Mountain Farm.

Thursday dawned a beautiful sunny day, and was further enhanced by a breakfast of eggs and homemade raisin toast, before we headed off to work, by which I mean I sat down in front of the computer and logged in, while DH walked down to the house to continue installing the kitchen floor.

Raisin cinnamon bread

Released from my labors in the afternoon, I converted my office back into a domicile, collected my trusty terrier and skipped off to enjoy the hot weather.

Trusty terrier

After some puttering about, I decided to plant out lettuce, calendula and broccoli starts in the garden, and went to collect the flats from in front of the house.

Walking back up with a flat on each arm, I suddenly realized there were an inordinate number of insects flying around -- a massive cloud, in fact, whirling around in such numbers they made the meadow shimmer with movement -- and they were humming.

I carefully set my flats down and ran for the house. I didn't have the patience to take off my shoes, find my husband and resume shoes, so I clapped loudly and he appeared out of the bedroom/workshop, looking a trifle demonic in respirator and ear muffs. There was no talking to him through all that, so I jumped up and down and urgently waved at him to follow me (bees aren't the only ones who can communicate through interpretive dance!)

He followed me outside and I pointed to the whirling cloud. "Those are bees!" I told him. He squinted at them for a minute, and then comprehension dawned.

"It's a swarm! Follow them, and see where they go, while I get the camera," he said. A swarm, I should say here, is one of the great miracles of nature, and it is a sight to behold, and to hear. For awhile, I just stood watching in wonder.

All the tiny dots in this photo are bees

DH collected the camera, and returned the terrier to the trailer. That was the end of my gardening plans for the day. He wanted to hive them. Plan A was to use our old hive, which tragically died out during a hard winter, so we walked up to retrieve it from the upper meadow. Surprise! It was occupied, and crowded, since, unaware of the new tenants, we hadn't been adding boxes. DH thinks this is actually where the swarm came from; they were moving from that direction, west across the fields.

The swarm settled into a massive fir tree not far from the house, about 15 feet up, and conveniently located between the tree and a field of re-growing blackberry canes, directly above a wood rat's house.

Bee swarm in a tree

We located our second hive in the shed, and brought it down to set up not far from the swarm. Not far, at least, unless you're carrying a large mass of bees.

DH climbed up the tree with a saw, while I stood below equipped with a plastic box. He planned to cut the branch, which would tip the swarm down into my box.

Nothing went as planned.

When the branch was jarred, half the swarm tumbled off onto the wood rat's house. If you have never seen one of these impressive constructions, it is a very large dome built of woven-together sticks. I've seen them more than four feet tall, but this one isn't more than two or three feet tall.

DH cut the branch anyway, but it didn't cut all the way through. So he shook bees off it, and thousands of them rained down over my arms and hands. They're furry, and harder than you might think, and they go crawling all around.

I registered a verbal objection, but my loving spouse just shook the branch again, raining down thousands more.

It was an amazing experience, but, for the record, I'm not a great fan of having bees dropped on me, even if they are docile swarming bees. They didn't sting, though, or at least I thought they didn't. I did find one this morning, when it swelled and began itching.

We took the box of bees and shook it out over the hive. Walking back to reconnoiter the situation at the wood rat's nest, my husband looked at me and said, "I have never heard you squeal like a girl before."

"You've never dropped bees on me before," I said.

I am sorry to report that he was not finished dropping them on me. The third time he did it, I gave serious consideration to not telling him about the next swarm I run across.

Husband, shaking the swarm off their branch

We were unable to get all the bees because by this time they were becoming a trifle irate about all the rough handling. So half of them, including, we think, the queen, burrowed into the nest and spent the night there.

In the morning we went back, and DH used a spading fork to lift the mass of sticks and bees into the box. He carried it to the hive and poured it in.

DH, pouring bees into hive

By evening, they seemed to be settling in and their song sounded contented. We hope they will stay, and be happy.

We had three hive boxes, so we took one up and put it on the old hive to give them a bit more room. And, just like that, we have bees again! An astonishing adventure in homesteading.

Despite all the interruptions, DH finished installing the flooring in the kitchen and pantry. It's beautiful. Tomorrow -- chance willing -- we will begin on the living room.

Hive full of bees