It’s looking like I might have a banner year as far as surviving colonies goes, even with the polar vortex we just had. I won’t have as much equipment to devote to swarm traps, so I’m making a bunch of fiber pot traps. I already know they work really well, but the ones available in the catalogs are pretty expensive.
A great blog post about my favorite plants.
https://wp.me/paz1Pv-6n
Every morning that I have off from work, I walk around the yard and check the entrances of all of my colonies. This is what I like to see. These little piles of dead bees tell me that my colonies are still alive. I use a twig to swipe them all away while trying not to get chased away. Some call this hygienic behavior, but it isn’t. This is basic housekeeping which all bees should do. If I don’t see these little piles, there might be a problem. So far though, I have live bees in all of my twenty-something hives. It seems that my decision to requeen (almost) all of my colonies with daughters of my survivors, and heavy late-season feeding has paid off thus far.
What does it mean to be a successful beekeeper? People have many opinions of what determines success to them. To some, if you do not keep a certain number of colonies, make a certain amount of money, or achieve an outdated survival rate, you are just playing around (unsuccessfully). Here are some of the questions I ask myself.
Do you keep bees every season and have an absolute ball doing it? Yes.
Do you lay out a large amount of money every year to keep bees? No. Practically no money, except for equipment (which everyone needs).
Do you contribute negatively to the overall gene pool of honeybees by propping up unfit colonies? No.
Do you earn some income from your bees? I do. Not much, but enough to cover most of my equipment.
Are you constantly learning more each season by studying your bees? Yes. And by learning from other people.
Am I off base with this? Are there any other questions I should be asking myself? I may not meet the criteria others set to be considered successful, but if all the fun I have messing with bees is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.
You can’t.
Well, we’re gonna find out, won’t we? I’m attempting to overwinter a colony in a “flower pot” style swarm trap. They moved in some time in June, but I kept putting off hiving them until it was too late. I brought them home and leaned them against my barn, then I covered the whole thing with a tarp and logs to protect it from wind, rain and snow. It weighs about 80 pounds, so I know they won’t starve. They also chewed a few additional entrances in the back and sides of the trap, so they have plenty of ventilation. Their genetics are sound. They most likely have an overwintered queen from my buddy’s treatment-free apiary where I had the trap. We just got clobbered by snow today, about 8 inches, so I took the picture below.
They are bone-dry under there, and usually you can see the cluster, but not today.
My spool colony is going into another winter. They swarmed a few times, and I raised some queens off of the mother queen to head a bunch of other colonies. I can’t wait to see how they pan out. All of my colonies are as heavy as wet cement, so I’m feeling good about this winter.
My long lang is under a lean-to, but somehow still got covered in snow. This thing is the “Cadillac” of beehives. 2 inches thick all the way around, and insulated on top. We’ll see how they do. I didn’t requeen the swarm I put in there because I retrieved them in a very undeveloped area. They could possibly be feral bees, so I will see what they have.
Many people stress about their bees during winter. I look forward to it for my bees, even though I hate the cold. Only the best will rise to the occasion and be around when the crocuses start blooming.
It all started two seasons ago with one quarter-sized piece of sunchoke tuber planted in my dad’s little backyard in the city. That little tuber grew into a 15ft tall, 10ft wide plant with hundreds of yellow flowers covered in bees. I uprooted it at the end of the season and my jaw dropped at the sight of over 100 tubers much larger than the one I originally planted. After giving most of them away, I was left with about thirty tubers that I planted on my beeyard this spring, out in the country. I’m very glad I did, because they bloomed during a dearth here and provided tons of pollen for my bees.
My only problem now is what to do with literally thousands of tubers that will each produce a monstrous plant if not thinned out before spring. Good news: they’re edible! And as it turns out: they’re delicious! I’ve heard alot of stories about how they cause all kinds of intestinal discomfort when eaten, but I found those stories highly exaggerated. I roasted them with just salt, pepper, and olive oil, and they were great. I wish I had made more.
Below is a picture of a patch I planted along the road. Heavy winds knocked them over but they still thrived and flowered like crazy.
If anyone is interested in some tubers, let me know. $5 per pound + shipping. Next fall, you will have tubers coming out of your ears too.
