We've experienced another beekeeping first on on the farm. We lost our first hive. Honestly, it has taken me some time to process. I've gone through all kinds of emotions... shock, sadness, frustration, confusion, and finally acceptance. I haven't had the words to really write about it because before I arrived at "acceptance," I felt like sharing the news meant I had a beekeeping fail. Silly I know.
Here's the thing... I always knew that all beekeepers lose bees at some point. I knew that the rates of hive losses are high across the nation. The problem is I am a perfectionist and a major competitor. What do you mean one hive of our bees left? I love them! They can't leave!
After grappling with the variety of emotions I've felt since we discovered one of our hives left, I started reflecting more on the weeks leading up to our discovery. Did I see bees activity at the entry of the hive? YES. I thought for sure the high activity in February meant that the girls had survived the winter and that they were busy taking cleansing flights and preparing for the new foraging season. Did I stop to check for pollen going into the hive? NO. There wasn't anything blooming at that point of the year, so I wasn't concerned about that. Pollen going into the hive can be an indicator that there are babies to feed in the hive. February is pretty early for any major activity with the queen and new brood. Did I take time to inspect frames to see if the queen was laying and that honey supplies were enough to make it through to foraging season? The weather didn't lend itself to a warm enough, wind free day to inspect. Did the hive have a funny smell to it? NO. HMMMMM....
Eric and I did a full inspection on the hive during the first few weeks in March. We announced ourselves to the ladies buzzing about and began looking at frames. Right away we noticed lots of honey remained. Good news... the girls didn't need all that we left and there might be some for us to harvest. We kept going across the frames...empty frame, empty frame, empty frame. Where were they? I quickly opened the screened bottom board on our hive and there weren't any bees there. During a normal inspection there are a few dead bees on the bottom board. There weren't any. Where were they? Eric and I just looked at each other. Who were these bees flying around us?
The reality hit me like a freight train. These weren't my girls buzzing my head as we inspected. These were ROBBER BEES. Our hive was being robbed and our very first rescue swarm had picked up and left. When did they go? Why did they go?
More reflecting, more considering. No bees on the bottom board, no bees inside. Evidence of varroa mites, but not lots of evidence. No varroa mites to count on my mite board. Plently of left over honey, so starvation wasn't an option. What happened?
We removed the remaining capped honey frames and sealed up the hive. As we were preparing to leave and my confusion was mounting, I decided to look on the bottom side of our hive. As I leaned over, I felt a combination of shock and "ah-ha!" As you know, we use a long bodied style hive coined a Valhalla hive. It allows me to work with the bees with my back limitations. No heavy lifting, easy to inspect, bee friendly, and so very beautiful. As I looked at the bottom of the hive, I could see that the bottom slider drawers had not been completely closed and were not flush with the back wall. The poor bees had robbers with complete free reign to their hive and honey stores! They couldn't protect themselves because of the large opening I had inadvertently left! Was that why they left?
We brought the hive into the shop and Eric made a few modifications to the drawers to prevent that from happening again. We cleaned off the built up propolis (bee glue) that the bees had covered the drawer slides with. In the future I will be very intentional to keep excess propolis off the drawers. A once thriving, busy, strong hive was now reduced to an empty cavity. Did my bees abscond? Was this colony collapse?
I've been doing some reading online since all of this happened, and I have read countless stories about beekeepers losing their bees. As my beekeeping friend says, "you want to bee a bee keeper, not a bee buyer!" So many new beekeepers try their hand at beekeeping, purchase a bee package, and end up losing their bees for one reason or another. If you try again, you truly have to call yourself a bee buyer rather than a beekeeper. The honesty of that statement just makes me giggle.
I haven't ever planned to purchase bees for many reasons and I don't plan on purchasing one to replace our empty hive. Not only is it late in the season to find a honey bee supplier, I want to have bees adept to living in Central Oregon. I don't want exhausted and unhealthy bees from a supplier out of state. That means honey bees native to our area. Honey bees aren't actually native at all, but I want to keep bees that have adapted to our climate, winters, and weather patterns. For me, I can get these type of bees two ways: capturing a swarm, or splitting one of my other hives. I am secretly hoping to do both this year!
Like I mentioned before, I've experienced all sorts of emotions related to losing our first hive. The biggest emotion honestly has been feeling sad. I've decided to consider this a true learning experience rather than focus on the sad aspects. I choose to believe that maybe some lucky beekeeper in Central Oregon discovered a swarm a month or so ago and Flora has settled into a new hive with good caretakers. I also choose to be humbled by the reality felt by so many beekeepers who lose hives. Remembering that nature is always ultimately in control sits much better in my heart. Honey bees are a creature worthy of our utmost respect and no matter how much we believe we can offer them and tame them, they go as they choose. I won't ever know for sure why they chose to leave, but I continue to appreciate the beauty of our precious honey bees.