Hive removal doesn't always go the way we would like it to. When you've been working in the heat for hours, you're exhausted, probably somewhat dehydrated, and running out of light sometimes your judgement fails you. Mistakes sometimes compound and if you avoid catastrophe (depending on perspective), physical harm, and are able to walk away with your tail between your legs, sometimes that's the best we get. Especially as a novice beekeeper.
I try to educate myself as much as possible before a new venture but nothing can substitute experience and life knowledge. I try to prepare for eventualities, the unexpected, and otherwise prevent Mr. Murphy from besting me. Most of the time I succeed. This is a story of my ignorance, lack of experience, and Murphy slapping me upside the back of the head teaching me.
I've never been the type of person to shy away from a challenge. More often than not I've succeeded in whatever crazy venture I set out to do. So when I had researched a lot and been beekeeping for a few months I wasn't afraid of trying challenging things. Like a hive removal from a tree.
Some friends knew I'd started beekeeping and had an acquaintance mention wanting to remove bees from a tree at a rental house they were fixing up. Given my name they contacted me, I went over to look at it, and thought to myself "Sure, I'll get it done. How hard could it be right?" Since I didn't have any experience I asked them just pay me $50 to cover my fuel and a few odds and ends, a free hive of bees was payment enough. Deal struck.
I loaded up my gear, dropped the kids off with the grandparents, took my wife (we all need witnesses of our genius afterall), and after church soon thereafter on a toasty August afternoon. I'd even built myself a nice beevac. I didn't bring a suit, who needs it?
The tree was an older maple tree, plenty of scaly bark with lots of texture. The hive entrance 9' up at the location of a knothole from a limb that had disappeared sometime in the last century. There was some concern about another area about 10 feet higher where another limb had broken off, maybe another entrance. I set up my ladder, made the climb and it was clear, no entrance.
I wanted to determine the approximate size of the cavity the hive was in so I drilled a sequence of a couple holes spaced about 12 inches above the knothole. 12" up hollow with comb, 24" up solid wood. Good start.
Repeated the sequence below the knothole finding solid wood approximately 30" down. The wood was solid for 6-8" at each hole before reaching the cavity. I never tried it from the other side of the tree nor did I try to drill all the way through.
Vacuum set up? Check
Ladder in place? Check
Smoker lit? Shoot. Light smoker...
Wife ready to document amazing events of the day? Check and double check
I started by stuffing some cardboard in the drilled holes leaving the bottom one open. We don't want bees pouring out on us when we start smoking do we? Vacuum running I began smoking into the bottom hole until I had bees running out of the entrance and puffs of smoke floating out. Set the smoker down, vacuum bees. Smoke and vacuum, smoke and vacuum. There was no end of the bees they kept coming and coming. Foragers were also returning only to be vacuumed up with their sisters.
The afternoon wore on, ears full of the whine of the vacuum. Wife was no longer so enthusiastic to have accompanied me (have I mentioned it was August and there was not much shade from the afternoon sun?). Sweat running down my back, I wondered "why did I wear cowboy boots with no support instead of my good work boots?"
I smoked and vacuumed while watching for the queen to come dancing out the entrance. She declined to make an appearance. Or perhaps I had missed seeing her and vacuumed her up I thought to myself. I'd been at it for about 5 hours nowand the sun was getting low. Looking down I notice a cloud of bees around the exhaust of my vacuum, good sign I think. But I'm not convinced, I'd been watching very closely this whole time with a queen clip handy.
With dark fast approaching it was time to call it a day. But I was pretty sure I didn't have the queen. Not good. This is where it all starts falling apart. I decide I didn't have her in my box and I'm convinced I didn't have her to this day, I'm positive she never came out. But what do I do now? I had a hive with eggs and brood at home I could give them and seal up the tree. It wasn't an appealing thought so I did what any inexperienced, exhausted, dehydrated person would do. Build a trapout screen and strap the bee box from the vacuum to the tree and come back tomorrow to finish. This seemed reasonable at the time. With box securely hung, trapout cone set and stapled to the tree I open the vacuum port knowing the bees would come out and come out they did.
Monday afternoon I go back with my gear to finish what I started (good work boots on today) and find that in my exhaustion I had built a very poor trapout cone that wouldn't stop any bees at all. Bees were running around, though, and under so many gaps in my cone it might as well have not been there. Remember how i said the bark had lots of texture? Inside my shoulders slumped, outside in pretty sure they slumped as well. Inside i screamed, I'm pretty sure i didn't scream on the outside though. Time to start over I think. This time I'd decided that I would get a many bees as possible by dark then seal up the tree. Plan firmly in mind I set about it.
Again the queen refused to make an appearance. I think she felt I was being rude or maybe I'm just not her type. Regardless no queen again. Time to pack up. This time I pack everything up taking a very full box of bees with me. Taking with me also the sense of regret that I was dealing up a tree with bees inside that were going to die and the sense that I'd failed to help save them.
To make matters worse I get home well after dark, again exhausted from my efforts. I place my box of loudly buzzing bees in a stand and make the worst decision I could. It's August, they have no comb, no water, they're not happy. My other hive 10 feet away is quietly minding their own business. I don't want to disturb them but I need a couple frames of resources and brood for the newcomers. I decide to wait till morning to not inside on my established hive, nor did I want to face their wrath for opening their hive at night.
I said before I was concerned about the new bees not having water. I didn't want them overheating. So I open the vacuum port and tell the bees I'll be back in the morning. I was true to my word, I was there the following morning. They however had decided not to wait for me and had left other than a few stragglers buzzing or walking around. My first removal had ended in failure, I had killed a colony while trying to save it. With the best of intentions, an optimistic outlook, and with ignorance tempered with inexperience I had failed the bees.
No I didn't fall off the ladder in the processs. My pride however took a good tumble down a long flight of stairs. I'm writing all this for myself as well as for anyone else that can learn from my mistakes. If you've read this long hopefully you've been extremely patient and I thank you.
Aaron
I'll be adding some pictures of the event soon also once I can upload them
Topic: Pride comes before... well at least I didn't fall (Read 5444 times)