Chapter Eight

After waving goodbye to Mr Hedges as he peddled off around the crescent, the super secured to the parcel rack on the back of his bicycle with bungee cord, William returned to the shed to complete all the housekeeping tasks associated with keeping bees.

Top of the list was cleaning all the brace comb off the queen excluder. As he set to with his hive tool, using the chamfered end to scrape the fragments of comb from the metal grill, and adding them to the growing supply in his storage box, William heard the back door open and close. He looked up to see Mummy standing in the shed doorway, dressed in her pyjamas, slippers and a thick, fluffy, winter dressing gown.

'Hello, sweetie,' she said.

William was immediately concerned.

'Are you alright, Mummy? Should you be out here in the cold?' he asked.

'I just fancied a bit of fresh air, darling,' she replied. 'And it's not too cold. The sun is quite warm, actually. And I wanted to see how the inspection went.'

'Well, let me get you a chair,' he insisted.

The cast iron chairs set around the table on the patio were much too heavy for William to move so he grabbed one of the folding picnic chairs that they kept in the shed, opened it up and placed it just inside the shed. Molly sat down, thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

He told her all about the inspection, especially the bit about seeing the new worker bee climbing out of her cell, and remembered to tell her that the bees were making good use of the crocus pollen.

'Well, that's excellent news,' Molly exclaimed. 'Let's hope our Summer planting is as successful.'

Their Summer planting included a variety of flowering shrubs, roses and perennial plants and a broad range of annuals that they would be growing from seed and planting out in the boarders and patio tubs – all part of their planting plan for year-round colour and interest in the garden. And, of course, to provide forage for the bees.

'So, what are you doing there?' Molly asked, prompting William to launch into a detailed explanation, while he worked. He was fascinated by wax - just one of several amazing substances produced by bees - and more than willing to share his passion with anyone who cared to listen.

'Only the young worker bees produce wax,' he explained, 'from glands on the underside of their abdomens, but they need a temperature of thirty-five degrees Celsius for wax production, so the workers huddle together in clusters and pass the wax scales that they've secreted into their mandibles and mould it into the cells of the honeycomb. And did you know that the bees don't actually set out to make the cells hexagonal? That just happens as a result of them all being joined together.'

Molly nodded her appreciation of the mini TED-talk, her heart filling with pride at William's comprehensive grasp of the subject matter and his enthusiasm for his hobby.

'The composition of bees' wax is very complex,' he continued, just getting into his stride, '– seventy percent esters, fifteen percent cerotic acid and twelve percent hydrocarbons, with traces of water, minerals, pigments and Fusel oil. And that remains pretty much the same, wherever in the world the particular bees might be. Its melting point does vary slightly, depending on the specific composition but, in general, it becomes malleable at between thirty-two and thirty-five degrees Celsius. And people use it to make lots of different things, like candles, furniture polish… but not wax dummies like the ones in Madame Tussaud's. The amount of wax you would need for one of those would be far too expensive to use bees wax. But you can paint it on cloth to make Batik designs. Some people even use it to coat cheeses to keep them fresh. But I'm not going to do any of those things. Not yet, anyway.'

'What are you going to use it for?' Molly asked.

'I want to make my own foundation frames,' William replied

He went on to explain that foundation was a thin sheet of wax, embossed with the hexagonal cell pattern and secured into the wooden frame by thin strips of wire. The frames were then put into a brood box or a super, for the bees to build on - hence 'foundation'.

'Of course, bees don't need foundation to build comb,' he declared. 'And they don't need frames, either. Wild honey bees build comb by suspending it from the roof of their nest cavity, in a hollow tree or a cave or even in somebody's chimney. But, for the convenience of beekeepers, foundation encourages the bees to build comb on the frames which can then be lifted out of the hive for inspection, or when we harvest the honey.'

Foundation could be bought, quite cheaply, from bee equipment stores but William really wanted to make his own.

'I'm saving up my pocket money to buy a foundation press,' he announced. 'They're quite expensive so it might take me a while but it'll be my Winter project, something to do when I can't open the hive.'

Molly wondered just how 'expensive' these foundation presses might be and whether she and Sherlock should consider getting one for William's birthday. She made a mental note to speak to Mr Hedges about it.

Despite the fluffy, warm dressing gown, she was beginning to feel chilled, so William helped her up out of the folding chair and she made her way back inside while he put the chair away and, having removed all the brace comb from the queen excluder, he followed Mummy into the Utility Room, carrying his tools caddy. Marie had kindly left him an old washing up bowl containing a warm solution of soda crystals in which to clean his gloves and tools. He wasn't allowed to mix the solution himself, as the soda crystals were caustic and would be dangerous if he got them in his eyes or on his skin. Even the solution was hazardous so, when cleaning his equipment, he always wore a pair of laboratory safety glasses like the ones Mummy used at work.

Molly had complete faith in William's ability to work safely so she left him to get on with his task and took herself off to the sitting room and the warm comfort of the sofa and the central heating.

After donning his safety glasses and pulling on his bee gloves, William submerged the bee brush in the soda solution and whisked it about before kneading the long, soft bristles between his fingers and noting that the water turned very pale yellow as the propolis stuck to the outer surface of his gloves dissolved. Satisfied the brush was clean, he took it out of the bowl, rinsed it under the cold water tap, gave it a few sharp shakes to dislodge as much water as possible then laid it on the draining board to begin to dry off. Next came the hive tool, which he also swished about in the solution before wiping it with a clean, damp cloth and drying it, thoroughly, to prevent rust. And, last of all, he cleaned his gloves. Mummy had taught him how to wash his hands – or rather the gloves on his hands – the way that surgeons did when preparing to perform an operation, so that every square millimetre was scrubbed completely clean.

As he worked, William mulled over the events of the day.

Today had been a very satisfactory day, bee-wise. The colony had survived the Winter and was building up its numbers and replenishing its stores. Things looked promising for the season ahead. But he was not complacent. Bees were, after all, wild animals and could be unpredictable. And the weather could be unpredictable too. That was part of what made bee-keeping such an interesting and exciting activity. The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, Mr Hedges was fond of saying. William knew that was a quote from a poem or something. One day, he would look it up. But he knew what it meant and last year had taught him just how true it could be.

This year, March had been cold, wet and windy – exactly as March should be – but last year had been completely different.

Spring had begun spectacularly well. With February and March being unseasonably warm, the bees became active very early in the year and while, on the one hand, TV weather people were encouraging everyone to 'get outside and enjoy the lovely weather', on the other hand, a Swedish school girl was inspiring thousands of other school children, all over the world, to go on strike in protest about the threat to Planet Earth of Climate Change. But William was oblivious to all of this. He was just thrilled that his bees were doing so well in his first season as an apiarist.

By mid-April, the colony had more than doubled in size and the first signs of swarming began to appear.

Mr Hedges had explained to William about swarming and why bees did it.

'Swarming is how a colony reproduces itself,' he began. 'Think of a colony not as a group of individual bees but as one organism. When the colony outgrows the space available in its hive, it starts to make plans to divide. The queen will leave the hive, taking half the colony with her, and find a new home somewhere else. The other half will stay behind and be taken over by a new queen, grown from a cell laid by the old queen before she left.'

William had a mental image of half his colony flying off and maybe setting up home in one of the neighbour's chimneys – or even under the dome of their gas barbecue! It was not an attractive prospect and he said so.

'No, you're right,' Mr Hedges agreed. 'So, we need to have a plan, in advance, of how we're going to manage your bees during the swarming season. You have a few options.'

The first – and most obvious – option was to add supers to the hive, to give the colony more space. By putting a queen excluder on top of the brood box, the queen would be confined to laying eggs in the brood box and the colony could use the supers to store honey.

'As each super is filled up, another can be added – up to three of four in total, always putting the new super on the bottom of the pile, so your bees know there's space available. But your queen might still decide to swarm,' Mr Hedges warned. 'Once they're set on swarming, it's nigh on impossible to change their minds.'

This lesson in bee husbandry was beginning to feel like William's worst nightmare. Despite all his best efforts, was he still about to lose half his bees?

'Oh, no, not necessarily,' Mr Hedges reassured him. 'You might need to trick your queen into thinking she's already swarmed.'

William was both relieved and intrigued.

'How can I do that?' he asked.

'Well, first of all, you need to be on the lookout for signs that your bees are preparing to swarm,' the old man replied, 'so, when we do our hive inspections, we need to check the brood box for queen cups. These look just like little acorn cups, like the ones you get on oak trees. All colonies produce them and, if they're not used, the workers dismantle them and reuse the wax to make brood cells. But, if the queen lays an egg in one, the colony will start to build up the sides to make a queen cell, which hangs downwards from the edge of the frame - usually the bottom of the frames - and look rather like a peanut shell. Eggs in queen cells means the colony's is getting ready to swarm.'

William nodded, solemnly. Knowing what clues to look for, as Daddy might say, was half the battle.

'The earlier you can spot a queen cell, the better,' Mr Hedges continued. 'And preferably before the queen egg has hatched but, even if you find queen cells that are well advanced, as long as they aren't sealed, you still have time to act. You can estimate the age of the larvae so you know when it's likely to be sealed and the swarm will leave. If you find queen cells that are sealed, chances are the swarm has already departed.'

The day had come when William spotted three queen cells at the bottom of one of the middle frames and, looking inside, he could see a small white egg in each one, laid no more than three days previously. The swarming season was upon them! In a normal year, this would begin in May or June but this was not a normal year. Here they were, in the middle of April, and William's colony was preparing to swarm, even though they had given it a super for extra space.

It was time for action.

'Go and fetch me the nucleus box, young fella,' Mr Hedges instructed and William scurried off up to the shed and returned, a few minutes later, carrying a large, rectangular cardboard box which was the same height and width as a brood box but only half as long. It had grills in the lid for ventilation and a small round entrance hole at one end which, for now, was plugged by a plastic stopper.

William placed the nucleus box on the ground beside the hive.

'Right, open it up and take all those foundation frames out,' said Mr Hedges. William did as instructed and removed all five frames, placing them on top of the upturned lid.

'Good. Now we need a frame of food from the brood box,' Mr H explained.

William levered one of the end frames out of the brood box. He could tell it was full of honey, just by the weight, as he drew it out but they both examined it and Mt H agreed that it fitted the bill.

'Now take that frame, with all the bees that are on it, and put it into the nucleus box. Push it right up against the side, yes, that's right, good lad,' said the old man as William performed the manoeuvre.

'Now we need to find our queen,' Mr H muttered and, handing the smoker to William, he began very quickly and deftly, with practiced hands, to lift frames out of the box and run his eye over them, searching for the elusive queen.

'There she is!' William piped up, as the third frame emerged from the brood box. Sure enough, there was the queen, just about to scuttle down to the underside of the frame because, except when mating or swarming, the queens never leave the hive but spend their whole lives in darkness so they do whatever they can to avoid the light whenever the hive is opened.

'Well spotted, young fella,' Mr Hedges chuckled, lifting the frame up in the air to examine it. 'See, there's a patch of brood cells there, so that will keep these workers busy, attending to the brood. Now we just need to check if there are any queen cells on this frame and if there are, we must destroy them.'

A brief inspection revealed two unsealed queen cells on the frame, each containing a two-day old larva in a bed of white Royal Jelly, the food of queens. Mr Hedges showed William how to destroy the queen cells by pinching them between his fingers and thumb. Then the old man took the frame with the queen and a good covering of attendant bees on it and put it into the nucleus box. Then William extracted another food frame and put it next to the brood frame, making three frames in the nucleus, in all.

'Right, we need some more bees in this artificial swarm,' Mr H observed and he instructed William to extract two more frames from the original hive, brush off the bees into the nucleus box and return the frames to the hive. All that was left to do now was to fill up the nucleus box with foundation frames – but no extra bees – and put the lid on, making sure that the entrance hole was still securely blocked with the stopper.

'If we don't block up the entrance to the nucleus,' Mr H explained, 'the flying bees will just return to the hive and our queen will be left with only the nursemaids and no-one to do any foraging.'

Turning back to the hive, William and his mentor conducted a thorough inspection of the rest of the brood box, to make sure there were no queen cells in it that were well developed and about to be sealed. They wanted only ones with eggs or very young larvae. Fortunately, there were none of the wrong kind and just a couple of the right kind. These they left where they were. One of them was destined to become the new queen of this colony. Which one it was would depend on what they found when they checked on the colony in a week's time.

'Right, let's fill up the gaps in this hive,' said Mr H, pushing all the frames in the brood box together with his hive tool. William dropped the spare foundation frames from the nucleus box into the empty space so the brood box had a full complement of ten frames, once again. Job done, they replaced the queen excluder and the super. They would not open the hive again for a week, to give the queen cells time to develop.

Meanwhile, the old queen and her 'swarm' needed a new home. And Mr Hedges had exactly the right solution.

They had decided – in consultation with Mummy and Daddy – that, in his first year as a novice apiarist, one hive would be enough for William to contend with so Mr Hedges would be taking the nucleus box back to his apiary and starting a new colony there. That was the plan, anyway.

But, the best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley…

ooOoo