Flying solo

I have just started feeding the bees to keep them stocked for the winter, or rather, finished off what got started the other day. It's the first time I've dealt with the hives on my own. When we got them, at a too good to pass up bargain price, four years ago I was 'buzzy insect phobic'. Properly arms flapping, cold sweat, hating even the sound of the approach of a bee or wasp.

I can remember exactly what set it up. Thinking about it now, it must be my earliest memory. I was a toddler 'lift-up-able' by my mother at the time. So what, two, maybe? And something was going on in a kitchen. I remember it as the kitchen of the house where I later grew up but it can't have been, I was five/six by then and too old. So, she lifted me up and out of the way of something at floor level that was going on, turning at the same time to talk to my aunite. I twisted to see where I was going and saw something on the windowsill where I was headed. How I knew at that age what a bee was and what it would do, I don't know. Maybe there's something built in and primal about those danger stripes. Anyway, I knew alright and in the slow motion that passed I'd already started to make squeaks of protest. Mum was distracted by whatever was going on in the kitchen and sat me down. Right on the dead bee. It stung right at the top of my leg. I can hear myself screaming. And at that point thats all I remember. Must have been quite a year for them as I don't ever remember not having the association with the noise. I could always tell the noise of a wasp, could recognise the way they hang in the air when they're poised to attack.

The noise of buzzing round my ears still bothers me and being stung is a big thing for me, though oddly, now it doesn't hurt that much. I've learned to do everything in slow motion, breathe slowly, walk slowly, lift slowly, since for the bees, the worst thing is to sense someone's scared of them. We must give off some kind of pheromone. I still have to force myself not to run when they get cross (the buzzing changes, lowers, becomes more menacing). Force myself to breathe slow and focus on the task. I finish a session with them more exhausted than I should be for the work it entails, kind of a brief bee hangover. But I'm managing.

And somehow I've fallen for them. The idea of what they do, the simple boon of the honey. The fascination of watching them work a flower.

It's something I never expected.

Queens Log Beedate Tue 16 Aug:
Hive 1
- refilled feeder on top of super with more uncapped stores, about thirty drowned bees in bottom (gah! I hate feeders) - filled feeder with twigs to act as so many bee rafts and re lidded hive
Hive 2
- added super with crown-board and feeder to top (pre-filled with twigs this one, hopefully will save a few bee-lives)

Will now need to keep feeding over nice summer days to let them build stores back up.