Another glorious day settles in for night. In fall, when the sun starts dipping down, the temperature also dips quickly. The girls start making their way to their homes, to spend the night keeping warm until the next day brings back the light and warmth that will allow them to get back to their jobs.
Two treadmill sessions, 12.5 minutes each, and a bit over half a mile each. At that pace, I could walk a marathon in just under nine hours. Not that I would want to do that.
Quick check on the hives, and amazingly enough, hive #11, which has a super on it, has seven frames of almost fully capped honey. The benefit of a lengthy season and unseasonably warm weather. Hive #5, which contains the swarm I caught late in the season, does not have a lot of laying by the queen, and not a ton of bees in it. The plan is to move some capped brood over to it while the weather is still moderate – perhaps even wrap the hive to keep it warmer than the girls can do on their own – so they will have more bees to work with as we inch toward winter.
Fall at the ranch is much like spring: the temperatures are moderating, the humidity is not as stifling, and it is, overall, not a terrible time to work outside. What is not like spring is that there are not a huge number of things in bloom, and although the bees search far and wide, there generally is not enough nectar for them to collect as they would as the growing season ramps up. It can also be a time of ambivalence as far as Mother Nature is concerned. One day the thermometer may soar to near 90F and the next, a true fall-like day reveals itself, with a high of only 70F. Even some of the trees seem to be confused about what to do during the unsettled period which acts as the change of seasons for us.
Eventually, everything will settle into its proper place for our very short winter, and before too long we will once again be roaring into our short spring before heading right back into summer. For now, we work on the cleanup tasks like weeding and pruning in order to put the gardens into a brief slumber before gently shaking them awake to get their bearings to start all over again.
Good morning, peeps and rancherinos! Yes, we have pushed our way right into morning here at the ranch, and my apologies for not providing you with some kind of witty or snarky or funny commentary yesterday.
The soul-eating baby was on the premises yesterday morning, with her chauffeur. We had quite a blast: ate caramel bread french toast, played catch with the dogs, watched the bees fly around, found a teeny frog to pick up and look at, and watched a small spider make its way across the front porch to a location more suitable for peace and quiet than where we (and the dogs) congregated. I managed a few work-related things, but priorities are what they are.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and still around 80F or so, so the bees were quite happy. They got some fresh syrup, and a couple of hives got a quick check. Twice now, I’ve been unable to find the queen in the swarm/queenless hive combo. I know she was there, because I did see her, and there were fresh eggs and larvae in the box, but last time and this time, I could not find her and can’t see any evidence of new eggs – although there were more larvae. It’s a quandary with that hive: consider it’s gone queenless again, and combine it with another hive, or give it another check or two this coming week. Something to think about while I continue my quest to get everything weeded and the monstrous wisteria hacked back.
In the evening I took a drive to the airport to pick up the hurricane reentering the greater Jax area. I probably didn’t mention this when she first arrived, but on my way to pick her up when she was coming from Germany, it was rush hour, and on the ramp back to the expressway where we would normally exit to head to the ranch, there was a huge backup. A pickup truck, and the trailer attached to it, had obviously caught on fire, because they were both burned out. It was right at a chokepoint, and we wound up taking the long way around to return to the ranch.
On my way north last night, I saw an accident on the southbound side: a semi had not just overturned, but overturned off the road into a fairly steep embankment. Traffic southbound was once again backed up, as rescue crews worked to get the rig righted. Once again, we took a long way back to the ranch. So, I’m thinking that perhaps the hurricane on inbound flights is bad luck for southbound travelers. Luckily for them, there will only be one more airport trip for this visit, and that outbound. Breathe easy, travelers!
Whatever you did yesterday, and whatever you do today, I hope you’re enjoying life.
“With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.” – Eleanor Roosevelt
Good evening, peeps and rancherinos! A bit of a last hurrah from Mother Nature today of early summerlike weather as we start slinking into fall, every so slowly, like a child told to go it its room after being bad. It’s one of the better times to be working outside getting things prepped and off the list until the new season, which no doubt will be upon us before we expect or are ready for it.
It’s been a long day from an early trip to the airport to drop off departing passengers to getting to a doctor’s appointment a bit later to taking care of business and various things around the ranch, like checking the girls and getting them fed. One of them, alas, killed herself by stinging me in the shoulder right through my suit, which was rather a waste. But you can’t really tell them what to do with their lives most of the time, just as you can’t do the same with people.
A quiet day, all around. Not hectic, no truly unpleasant people to deal with, and a lot of driving to let the brain cells churn through storylines. And since the day is over, and we’re all still above ground instead of under it, a pretty decent day.
I hope your day went well, folks, and if not entirely well, then not entirely a disaster, either. Be well.
“The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” – Anna Quindlen
Good afternoon, peeps and rancherinos! Another fine, warm fall day at the ranch. The fog has lifted and the sun is shining. That makes the bees happy, which makes me happy, even as I know the number of things in bloom continues to dwindle as fall stalks us, creeping along and staying hidden in the tall grasses, waiting to pounce. There is a simple beauty in the short lifetime of the bee: they focus on their jobs as they move from nurse to guard to forager, only complaining when something disrupts their routine, like a beekeeper inspecting the health of the hive. Once that is complete, they are happy to return to their duties – almost all are happy. There are usually a couple of them clutching to the keeper, sorting out intent. A gentle push returns them to their day, to go about their business.
Earlier today, I popped something in my back, thanks to a rather nasty round of the chronic cough with which I now live (insert another hearty fuck you, cancer! here). I did the same about two weeks ago. It hurts like hell, and when the spasms start, either on their own as they usually do or because of the cough, it makes me pine for the fjords. Or at least something more heavy duty than slugs of the kiddie advil I have to take because I can’t swallow pills – and believe me, since I have to crush and drink all the other meds I have to take, I can state with certainty that advil (or any coated pill – nothing against you specifically, advil) crushed, mixed with water, and then swallowed, is like drinking tiny daggers. What’s the point of this? That the bees don’t really care how my back feels. They need to be fed because we are heading into the dearth, and because it has been so stunningly warm this deep into the season, they are eating through their stores because they do not understand – as everyone on Game of Thrones knows – that winter is coming. So, every day means a trip to the yard to replace or refill feeders, check activity on the landing boards, and just do a checkup on the girls, as we would do with any other livestock. If you refuse to do the jobs necessary related to something you have chosen, perhaps you should rethink your choices.
Such is life at the ranch: duty beckons, and you must answer.
Enjoy your weekend, folks. Make it a good one.
“How can you come to know yourself? Never by thinking, always by doing. Try to do your duty, and you’ll know right away what you amount to.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Good morning, peeps and rancherinos! It is Friday – not that any particular day of any particular week has any particular meaning for those of us who generally work every day of every week – but there is still something about reaching the end of another week on the calendar that is satisfying. A bit foggy this morning, but I’m sure it will lift, and the weather has been so warm that one of the single body bee hives I thought wouldn’t amount to much actually needs another brood box on it. I’m of two minds on this, as the temps are supposed to moderate, but I suppose if they don’t build up enough in the second box and don’t have enough bees to stay warm through our short winter, I can always reduce them back to a single box and then make sure they’re first on the list for spring expansion so they don’t get any nutty ideas about swarming.
The key in beekeeping, as in farming, is thinking of it as a game of chess. You’re attempting to stay several moves ahead that span several months, and that are dependent on a huge external factor: weather. Tonight – while watching whatever football I can find, of course – I’ll be starting on plans for spring, both bee-wise, and crop-wise. This past season’s crops were pretty much a lost season for various reasons (primarily extended sickness in the family) but next year is a new year, and thus a chance to begin again. It’s one of the better things about working in the soil: a crop may fail, either due to circumstance after some time, or by never growing in the first place, but you simply note what went wrong, learn a lesson from that wrongness, and endeavor to do better the next time around.
It’s much the same with the bees, of course, although a loss of bees is worse than the loss of a set of plants. They are living creatures, after all, and it’s more time consuming and more expensive to replace them than it is to replace plants or seed. So, it’s imperative to be the best caretaker possible, checking on them often enough to ensure their health, but not so often that they are constantly irritated by your presence. Balance: it is not just for gymnasts.
Whatever you’re up to today, folks, do it well, and do it safely.
“Henceforth I ask not good fortune. I myself am good fortune.” – Walt Whitman
So, do you want to hear the saga of hive number two? Of course!
As you might recall, a small, late season swarm emerged from that hive, and was subsequently captured. Why they swarmed will forever remain a mystery (that is, no infestation of mites or beetles, plenty of food, plenty of space, etc.). But the small size of the swarm, and the fact that I believe there were actually two (given all the fighting going) was a problem: with so few bees, it’s difficult for a colony to defend their home and keep other bees from launching incursions to take pollen and honey away as prizes back to their own hives. On the plus side, I was positive I had at least one queen in the captured group of bees, as I had spotted her the next morning when I checked on them.
Hive number five had gone queenless, and had not, after two tries I gave them, created a new queen. I combined small swarm from number two with number five, putting a couple of sheets of newspaper between the bodies so they could all get used to the new queen’s pheromones. This worked out nicely, the bees ate holes through the paper, and soon enough, both the queenless bees and the captured swarm with the queen were mingling without trying to kill one another. That gave number five a decent number of bees to work with, and the very warm weather gave the queen a chance to fly out and meet some drones for a booty call so she could get to laying.
Checking in and out on the hive, but not seeing any eggs, larvae, or capped brood was a tad disappointing. But, you have to allow time for that. In the meantime, hive number two, where the swarm had originated, also failed to make a queen, and there were not a lot of bees left. So, a handful of days ago, I put down some newspaper, and moved to combine them with number five as well – where the swarm they had tossed was now located. I’m sure the irony was lost on them. They are not, after all, great thinkers.
Today, while feeding the hives that needed feed, I checked in hive number five, and what did I find? All the bees from the three hive bodies on the stack were just fine. I also found (drum roll) capped brood, larvae, and eggs, and the queen roaming around safely.
From two different hives, one of which swarmed, I now have a single productive hive, with the swarmed hive reunited. That is a first on the ranch. For those keeping track, that means we have thirteen active hives from the fifteen we had at the height of summer, after starting with six in the spring: number one hive absconded completely, and number two hive – well, that is their story up there. I considered doing some late season splits, but next weekend the forecast looks like fall is actually arriving, and it’s too late now. Instead, we will hunker down for “winter”, and do early spring splits as soon as feasible, or as soon as the bees decide for as, as they did this year with a February swarm (that I caught).
Went out to the hive that swarmed anyway, without smoke, like a dumbass, to check it. Every single frame is empty, dry as a bone. No brood. A little pollen. Zero nectar/honey. I did find some open queen cells, but couldn’t spot a queen. There were quite a number of bees in the box, and they were mighty pissed off. I got two more stings out of it. I’m not sure if they were just in the to rob out any little bit they could or if they actually lived there. I’m hoping the latter, it would suck to have the entire hive abscond. At least I know my agenda for tomorrow morning: thorough hive inspections. With the smoker and a lot of fuel to make sure I can take my time.
Half the mowing done. When you can hear the thunder through your earplugs over the drone of the tractor, it’s time to stop for the time being and get back in the house. I did make it partially to the orchard/beeyard, and I think the swarmed hive may have actually been two swarms and completely absconded. The feeder I put on that hive this morning is empty, and I believe the other bees are robbing it out. That will take some investigation, which will have to wait a bit until this storm passes. Can’t do much good for the bees if you’re setting yourself out as a lightning target. I hope they’re not all gone. That would be a pity, although it would immediately free a box for a late season split. It isn’t like our winters are hideous around here, so they’d have plenty of time to make a queen, have her mate, and get going before the chill arrives. We shall see.