To Bee or not to Bee (by Kat)

Okay, people keep asking me why I started up the beekeeping escapade. The trouble is, they usually have this look on their face and a tone in their voice that would better accompany the query of why I decided to become an elephant whisperer or a tightrope walker. People seem to think I'm nuts, and not in the usual "oh she's just nuts but in a kinda cute way." No, the typical reaction I'm seeing is a quick eye dart to the left, then to the right, a glance over my shoulder, and then, escape route decided upon, they'll look back at me.

Except for my dentist. She thinks it's cool, and she'll get the first jar of honey I harvest to give away. I like her.

So, bees. And why?

I definitely wasn't raised to do this. My mom actually asked me a few years ago "did we raise you to be this way or did you get this way yourself?" She was quite serious. She was upset that I was handling something (I don't recall what) in a manner decidedly different than she thought the situation (whatever it was) called for. So, we'll just let her and my dad off the hook right now. No, I was not raised in any type of manner that would seemingly lead to me keeping bees.

Uhm, I don't know anyone who keeps bees, either.

Uh, Little House in the Suburbs did it, so I can too?

No? Okay, ummmmm, I like bees?

Actually, we have about one buhzillion types of bees in our yard. Long ones short ones, fat ones skinny ones...

But with the population of honey bees at such risk worldwide, I wanted to do something to bee a part of the solution. I'm a put up or shut up kind of person, and don't feel you have a right to complain about a problem unless you're actively working to rectify it. So, I see all the bees and think that maybe they'd like a home, and I could give them that, and maybe that would entirely solve the world bee decline. Or at least help out a bit here.

So, a top bar hive, I figured, would house one local colony, and I'd get some honey in return, maybe.

Also, I never had an ant farm growing up. Somehow I convinced myself that a hive would be just the ticket to make up for that neglect....

But here's the thing. I ended up buying a hive of bees from another community and brought them here. This doesn't help out the little guys who were already here. The Lansgstroth hives are harder to get into, and not at all like an ant farm. So what am I doing, and why?

I. Don't. Know.

But I like it......

PS Hope my folks never find out I have a blog.... I most definitely wasn't raised to do this sort of thing.
PPS I know really need to stop making the bad bee puns, but I just can't help myself.

BEE(n) Shopping! (by Kat)

So, in order to support my new hobby, I've been shopping.

(There were two opportunities to make bad puns in that last sentence...I refrained in both instances. Aren't you happy?)

While I've read and researched everything I could find on top bar hives, I hadn't done much homework on Langstroth hives before the day I went to pick up my hive. So, when the 4th of July weekend found me over in Pugetopolis, I hit my favorite new/used bookstore, Third Place Books. I wasn't lucky enough to find any used bee books, but I picked up the "Beekeeping for Dummies" book and read it straight through on Friday so I'd be ready for my trip to the apiary supply store on Saturday.


I wasn't sure what to expect at the store, and my expectations were fairly low. Good thing. The owner was very set in his ways, and only carried the supplies/styles he preferred. When I told him I'd built my own top bar hive he looked at me as though I had a horn growing out my skull. In his words "if you've got access to a table saw, you don't have any reason to use a top bar." I told him that I'd used my table saw quite a bit to build my top bar hive, and he looked at me as if I now had a tail curling out my hind end. He reiterated his point that "there's no reason to build one of those if you live in the modern world."

I tried to move on, but he had to berate the entire world of top bars and their users for a while longer before he'd let the subject change. As he stood there, blabbing away like a southern baptist minister, and as my mind wandered away just as if he actually were a southern baptist minister, I realized that he had very little money to make off people who used top bars. It all clicked!

Anyway, I did buy quite a few pieces of equipment that day. My total, including the book from Third Place, was just about $150.00. Not cheap, probably not all necessary, but comforting for me to have at this point.

Here's an Italian style hive tool. It's less burly than the kind I wanted, and in fact I'd label it a doo-hickey as opposed to a tool, but what do I know? After all, I'm enamored with top bar hives! This end is for scraping burr comb and propolis off the places you don't want it. It is also supposed to be useful for prying the lid off the hive. I'm not sure this is burly enough for use as a prybar, but we'll see.

Here's the other end of the hive tool. The notch helps lift up frames. I could snap this tool in half with ease, even though it's metal. I'm just not in love with it at this point. But, you know, I haven't even sued it yet so I could be very wrong (who, me?)!


This is the frame grip. I wanted the French style, as was recommended by the guy from whom I bought the bees. The minister at the bee shop said he didn't like the "frenchy" kind, so he didn't carry them. So, I have this style instead. The French style has points where this style has flat grips. I can't see how this will give the positive grip the French style has, but the minister swore by it, so I'm giving it a shot.


Finally, I have goatskin gloves that reach up to my elbows and a bee veil to protect my head, face, and neck. The draw strings tighten around the collar of your shirt, making it very difficult, though not impossible, for any bees to enter the veil.

I didn't buy a beekeeper suit, as they are about $100 at the minimum. Jeans are fine, as is a white long-sleeve heavy shirt. I'll be hitting up the local thrift store here pretty soon to find the shirt. Honey bees are so docile that unless you are really bugging them a lot, or working around them day after day, you don't need special protective gear other than a veil and gloves.

In fact, the book I bought suggests that you don't even use gloves. I'm not that brave, though.

Although, after taking the photos to show you the equipment, I walked over to the hive to see how all my new little friends were doing.

Bare-handed...

And bare-footed!

Plan Bee (by Kat)

Plan A was to build a top bar bee hive, collect a wild swarm, and live happily ever after. Plan A was easy, was natural, was researched to within an inch of its poor life. Plan A was the golden child. Plan A was doable. Plan A and I were best friends. But there was a problem. Plan A was started too late in the season--past the time the bees are swarming, past the time that a new hive can build itself up to a sustainable level before winter sets in.

Simply put, Plan A didn't stand a chance.

Welcome to Plan B(ee)


Oh, I'm so sorry for that terrible pun, but you know I had to do it!

Plan B is a Langstroth hive full of bees. Plan B is in my backyard. Plan B has scared the living daylights out of me. Plan B and I are staring at each other from across the path. Plan B says "Hi, I'm here, I'm in your face."


Plan B knows what it's doing, but I don't.


But, like so many times in life, Plan B is the route before me and the signpost has my name on it. So, Plan Bee and me, we're gonna be best friends.

I hope...

(is it just me, or are they all sticking their butts out at me?)