Beekeeping as a beginner

Fulfilling a life long ambition, Bill Clark tells the story of how he became a beekeeper at Wandlebury

Beekeper with open hive and comb. photo pxhere

Extract from the podcast of beginning beekeeping by Bill Clark, former Warden at Wandlebury. Full  podcast here: https://archive.org/download/beginners-beekeeping/Ch9a-beekeeping.mp3

...On the following Wednesday, I happened to see some boys pushing over four hives in a nearby field. I arrived to find live bees in one, and a sheet of paper with the name and phone number of the beekeeper, among the debris of one of the three containing only dead bees. I dashed home and phoned him with the news, he said that he was sorry, but dare not go near!

I ‘hurrumphed’, saying, ‘There is only one live colony to deal with.’ – I was already thinking that they had not been left with enough stores to see them through the winter, and my opinion of him, was getting lower by the second. He then explained that during the previous autumn, he had been stung and had an anaphylactic shock. ‘If my wife had not seen me fall, I would have died. Whilst I was in hospital, she arranged for someone to remove them, and I have promised her I will sell them.’

I remarked that I understood his wife’s concern, mine too, was apprehensive about my recent start in beekeeping. His voice went up an octave. ‘Do you mean to say you are keeping bees on Wandlebury? Oh Mr Clark it would make me so happy to know my bees are in your care, please take them, as a gift!’

I installed the colony on new combs and fed them with some sugar-syrup – with the intention of cleaning and sterilising the other three hives as and when I had the time. A couple of days later, the phone rang as I arrived for my midday meal. Lifting the receiver, I could only hear sobbing. ‘Who is there?’ I asked, in some alarm. A lady’s quavering voice, asked, ‘Are you Mr Clark, the Warden at Wandlebury?’ My heart sank – she has been assaulted. Assuring her I was the Warden, brought further tears. Trying to calm her down, I said, ‘I am sure it is not as bad as you believe.’ ‘But it is, it is,’ she sobbed. ‘You should have called the police,’ I said. The sobs died down. ‘I did, they were useless; they told me to phone the City Council.’ ‘And what on earth did they say?’ I asked. ‘They just gave me the number for South Cambridgeshire Council, who told me to phone Rentokill, and theirs is only an answer-phone, please help me,’ she wailed. The penny dropped! ‘Have you got a swarm of bees?’ Louder sobs issued, ‘My kitchen is full – thousands of them.’

This was quite exciting, and they were less than a mile away! Dinner was put on hold, and I arrived within minutes. A lace curtain twitched at a window and a hand beckoned me down the path. A finger pointed to the left. Around the corner, the hand waved me on from another window, and upon turning the next corner of the L shaped building, I could see a half glazed door, partly opened inward, with bees on both the inside of that and the closed windows either side. On a flowering currant bush, a couple of steps in front, hung a small swarm; which I shook into my special collecting box, put the lid on and waited a few moments for them to settle down. Next I opened the small bottom entrance, and out some streamed – if the queen was inside they would start to fan their pheromones at the entrance to guide the others in.

All indications were that the queen was in the box, so I fully opened the kitchen door and windows, and fanned the bees from behind the glass, satisfied to see the box getting ever more covered in bees as the kitchen emptied. Finally closing up a bee-free kitchen, I walked round to the front door. It was opened a crack, and I explained, that in order to take away every last bee I must leave the box in position until dusk.

That evening, after closing the entrance, I carried the box to my car, returning to inform the lady. As I lifted my fist to knock, the door swung wide open and a pair of arms encircled me whilst my face was covered with kisses! She pulled back, still gripping my arm. ‘Oh thank you, thank you. You are my Knight in Shining Armour,’ then letting go. ‘What am I thinking of, keeping you like this, when you have had such a busy day.’ And giving a cheery wave, she closed the door, and I dizzily walked to my car...

Readings continue on A young helper and Wendy's suspect pot plants https://routeandbranch.blogspot.com/2020/06/a-young-helper-and-wendys-suspect-pot.html